Having earned three bachelor's degrees and three PHDs Reid knew all about hard work but nothing he had ever done compared to the next forty-eight hours of his life. Truthly, he hadn't realised just how addicted he had become until he tried to stop. Four hours after his confession to Gideon, his mother called ranting about conspiracies amongst the doctors, "they are trying to poison me, they want me to take tablets but I know they'll kill me" and although on the surface he remained calm and rational, "Mum, no one wants to kill you, have you been taking your medication regularly?", inside he felt anxious and honestly rather frustrated. The needle called to him. Two hours after that and he was feeling sick to his stomach and a throbbing headache had developed. Within hours, he felt as if he was suffering from a severe case of flu. He was sweating, vomiting, and had terrible stomach cramps. He tried to stop his shaking hand, recognising all the withdrawal symptoms off Dilaudid and feeling thankful that he was home alone so no one would see the result of his harmful addiction. "Withdrawal symptoms of Dilaudid begin hours after stopping the drug. They peak at 14 hours" he kept repeating it to himself until it became almost like mantra. Holding a hot water bottle against his stomach to ease the cramping he tried to force himself to sleep. "Peak at 14 hours". If he could sleep now, by the time he woke up he could be over the worst of it. The needle called to him louder than ever. That's when he saw one, lying on his bed side table already prepared. All he had to do was inject it. He couldn't stop himself. It was as if it was no longer him in control of his body as it moved automatically; he tied his band around his arm to find a vein and reached for the needle. Calmness descended on him as he imagined the relief it would bring. Tobias' voice echoed in his head, "Tell me it doesn't make it better". It did. It would. Then another, unwanted, voice spoke, "You will come out of the other side" and with it Gideon's concerned face. With a frustrated growl, Reid threw the needle away from him and began to sob. He knew that up to 90% of drug addicts relapsed during recovery, he didn't want to be a statistic yet he had an overwhelming desire to inject. Angry yet scared sobs burst from him until his eyes were red, his throat was sore, and he fell into a fitful sleep.
He was convulsing on the floor once more. His limbs moving out of his control and fear inhabiting every part of his body and mind.
"That's the devil vacating your body." Hankle calmly and coldly stated as red smoke started rising from Reid's body.
His eyes shot open. Pain was coursing through him; his whole body was trembling and his clothes were drenched in sweat. He stood up, catching his bed side table to stop himself falling, and blearily made his way to the bathroom, thinking a warm bath might soothe him physically and emotionally. As he passed the mirror he caught sight of his reflection; he looked awful, pale, and sickly with huge dark shadows beneath his eyes. At this rate, he might have to call in sick tomorrow he mused; he could not let the others see him like this. Then just as he was turning away, something red caught his eye. Smoke. Red smoke. He spun around. No smoke was there. Nervously he studied the mirror again. Still nothing. Obviously, he was still half asleep. He turned on the cold water tap and let it run for a few seconds before splashing it onto his face. It had the desired affect and feeling less groggy, he started to fill the bath. He stared absently at his reflection in the water. Looking at the man before him. It wasn't him or at least it wasn't who he wanted to be. He could beat this. Couldn't he? He swept the reflection away as he encouraged the cold water to spread out equally, but as his face disappeared smoke appeared yet again. Unnerved, Reid jumped back away from the bathtub. Yet the smoke didn't disappear, it was following him. No, it wasn't following him; it was coming from him. Red smoke was billowing out from his chest. "NO!" he shouted. He vigorously splashed water on his face repeatedly until the front of his hair was soaking and his eyes stung. "Wake up. Wake up!" He ordered himself as more smoke appeared and began forming itself before him. He pinched himself leaving small marks all over his arms. Eyes had now appeared in the smoke. Black, empty eyes. "Wake up!" He screamed once more. But he didn't. This nightmare was real.
