Disclaimer: See last chapter
~ "A pill to drain the shame." ~
Morgan stared down at the pill in his hand, wondering how such a small thing could bring him so much comfort. His head shook as he thought about it, his eyes closing a little as he tried his best to resist that sweet surrender.
His hand shook a little as he set the pill down on the table in front of him, leaning back on his couch, his eyes closed as he tried his best to forget about it. The whole thing was messed up, he wasn't supposed to be like this. He bit down on his lip, tapping the arm of the couch as he tried to think of ways to distract himself from that minor addiction.
M I N O R; his hands weren't shaking, his mind wasn't just on that pill, his heart wasn't thumping and his palms weren't sweating. He did n o t need that pill, he didn't need any of them – at least, he didn't think he did.
He wasn't addicted, it was nothing more than a habit that he could kick at any given time, right? He nodded his head in agreement with his own thoughts, he was strong enough to resist.... but just o n e more time, just the one pill.
His hands reached out for them, grabbing more than one pill – may as well go all out if it's your last time, surely? He bit down on his lip before gulping them down all at once, smiling when the shaking seemed to ease off quickly.
He closed his eyes, smiling this time as he lay his head back on the couch. He was stressed. That was his favourite excuse to use; he needed the pills to stop himself from breaking down every night after everything he has seen when on a case.
In all truth, he takes the pills to stop himself from thinking about his childhood. He takes those pills to stop himself from thinking about it happening to others. He takes those pills to tell himself that it will all be okay because he is strong. The pills help him; until he shoots back down from them. They make it all so much worse.
He can feel that peace rushing through his body once more; he finally feels like something is right. But of course; he is not a d d I c t e d, of course not. He shakes his head, laughing a little at the thought – he was not an addict to the need; he didn't need any of this. He just wanted it.
He gulped a little as he felt himself reaching out for more, worried that maybe his want could turn into a need and then where would he be? Where he is right now?
He looked around his empty apartment, the darkness adding to his mood as he popped some more pills into his mouth.Those pills just keep pouring in. He wonders what defines an addiction, laughing loudly suddenly when he thinks about Reid – he would be able to tell him exactly what an addiction is; how you would see the signs. Everything,
He shook his head when the laughter died; an addictions an addiction, it all hurts the same. And he was hurting – he was hurting all the time, even though he never would show it outside those four walls. He was supposed to be strong; he was going to keep up that image for as long as possible.