Disclaimer - I wish I owned House, but y'know, like just about everyone, I don't :(.
First fan-fic, please be nice.
9:00am
It hurt. It had been hurting for nine years. Nine years since his surgery, nine years since he had been able to walk. Properly.
Gregory House was lying in his bed, sprawled over the width of it. Some days he just didn't feel like getting up.
His hand moved to his right thigh, tracing the scar that spread the length, wishing it would go away, but it didn't. House reached for his bedside
table. The pills were there, the pills that kept him out of pain, most of the time, but in misery.
Do I want to take them? he thought. Yes.
As his arm went up to get the orange pill container a spasm went up his leg and his face screwed up in pain. His arm flicked out and knocked the pills off the ledge, but he didn't notice. He was curled up on the bed, in agony.
I'm not going into work today, I just can't.
Three Hours Later
"House! House!"
Wilson was at the door, knocking on it.
"HOUSE! It's a weekday! Get into work, even if your high or hungover! HOUSE!"
House didn't answer. He was lying on his bed, eyes rolled up in his head. Wilson inserted a key into the door and opened the lock.
"House?" He said tentatively.
He looked around and went into the kitchen. No breakfast, and then back into the living room and took a closer look. The closet was open, and all House's clothes were still in there, as well as his current favorite shoes.
"House...?" Wilson was starting to get doubts as he went into the bedroom and saw House lying near the edge of the bed.
"House!" He ran towards him and turned him over, onto his back.
House looked at him with groggy eyes, barely conscious, and then leaned over the side of the bed and threw up.
"What did you do this time!?"
Wilson looked down and saw the spilled pill container and shook his head.
"I'm not helping you again House" he said "Not this time"
He pushed House down and started to leave, as he caught sight of House's eyes. They looked at him pleadingly, as if begging him for something.
"Wasn't - the - pills" he whispered "Leg"
"What? It can't hurt that much?!"
But even as Wilson said it House fainted. Wilson pulled the sheets off him and saw both of his hands over his thigh.
"Oh Sh--" Wilson murmured. He hated seeing House like this...on bad days. "Hold on a sec there House."
Wilson walked back out through the bedroom door to the living room, where he looked for what was needed. Up there - on top of the bookshelf. How the hell does he get up there? He wondered. There was a step ladder, but even so...
Wilson grabbed the step-ladder and pulled him-self up onto it, grabbed the heavy tin box and jumped back down with it in his hands, landing heavily. "Jeez House, way to make things difficult."
He opened the box and pulled out a syringe, and a bottle of clear liquid - Morphine. Cuddy always said it was extreme. But House was in extreme pain...right? He filled the syringe and tested it. No bubbles. Then he quickly moved back into Houses' bedroom. He was still lying there. unconscious.
"Here we go..." said Wilson as he stuck the needle into Houses' spine. As House felt the prick of the needle he suddenly regained consciousness.
"Wh-what was that?" He murmured.
"Morphine, for your leg" Wilson answered shortly.
A smile played upon Houses' face and he got up off the bed, no longer in pain because of the Morphine now surging through his body.
"Ha, fooled you." He said as he stood up, but as he stood the room swirled.
"You know House, some people might find it stupid to movie around after you've just had a large dose of Morphine."
"And some people might find it stupid to give your friend, a known drug addict Morphine because he says it hurts."
"You're not seriously saying that-"
"Seriously...how long have you known me Wilson?" House said and took a step towards the bedroom door. His leg, even though not painful right now crumpled underneath the weight.
"Damn." He swore. Wilson stepped forward to help. "I don't need your help! I never did. Ever!"
"Okay House, I'll leave now." Wilson said and left the flat.
"God Wilson's' annoying!" muttered House. And I can't be screwed to get up...I'll just lie here till the Morphine wears off. Unfortunately.
A/N - I haven't written Chapter Two yet, but If this gets recieved well I'll start :)
First fan-fic, please be nice.
9:00am
It hurt. It had been hurting for nine years. Nine years since his surgery, nine years since he had been able to walk. Properly.
Gregory House was lying in his bed, sprawled over the width of it. Some days he just didn't feel like getting up.
His hand moved to his right thigh, tracing the scar that spread the length, wishing it would go away, but it didn't. House reached for his bedside
table. The pills were there, the pills that kept him out of pain, most of the time, but in misery.
Do I want to take them? he thought. Yes.
As his arm went up to get the orange pill container a spasm went up his leg and his face screwed up in pain. His arm flicked out and knocked the pills off the ledge, but he didn't notice. He was curled up on the bed, in agony.
I'm not going into work today, I just can't.
Three Hours Later
"House! House!"
Wilson was at the door, knocking on it.
"HOUSE! It's a weekday! Get into work, even if your high or hungover! HOUSE!"
House didn't answer. He was lying on his bed, eyes rolled up in his head. Wilson inserted a key into the door and opened the lock.
"House?" He said tentatively.
He looked around and went into the kitchen. No breakfast, and then back into the living room and took a closer look. The closet was open, and all House's clothes were still in there, as well as his current favorite shoes.
"House...?" Wilson was starting to get doubts as he went into the bedroom and saw House lying near the edge of the bed.
"House!" He ran towards him and turned him over, onto his back.
House looked at him with groggy eyes, barely conscious, and then leaned over the side of the bed and threw up.
"What did you do this time!?"
Wilson looked down and saw the spilled pill container and shook his head.
"I'm not helping you again House" he said "Not this time"
He pushed House down and started to leave, as he caught sight of House's eyes. They looked at him pleadingly, as if begging him for something.
"Wasn't - the - pills" he whispered "Leg"
"What? It can't hurt that much?!"
But even as Wilson said it House fainted. Wilson pulled the sheets off him and saw both of his hands over his thigh.
"Oh Sh--" Wilson murmured. He hated seeing House like this...on bad days. "Hold on a sec there House."
Wilson walked back out through the bedroom door to the living room, where he looked for what was needed. Up there - on top of the bookshelf. How the hell does he get up there? He wondered. There was a step ladder, but even so...
Wilson grabbed the step-ladder and pulled him-self up onto it, grabbed the heavy tin box and jumped back down with it in his hands, landing heavily. "Jeez House, way to make things difficult."
He opened the box and pulled out a syringe, and a bottle of clear liquid - Morphine. Cuddy always said it was extreme. But House was in extreme pain...right? He filled the syringe and tested it. No bubbles. Then he quickly moved back into Houses' bedroom. He was still lying there. unconscious.
"Here we go..." said Wilson as he stuck the needle into Houses' spine. As House felt the prick of the needle he suddenly regained consciousness.
"Wh-what was that?" He murmured.
"Morphine, for your leg" Wilson answered shortly.
A smile played upon Houses' face and he got up off the bed, no longer in pain because of the Morphine now surging through his body.
"Ha, fooled you." He said as he stood up, but as he stood the room swirled.
"You know House, some people might find it stupid to movie around after you've just had a large dose of Morphine."
"And some people might find it stupid to give your friend, a known drug addict Morphine because he says it hurts."
"You're not seriously saying that-"
"Seriously...how long have you known me Wilson?" House said and took a step towards the bedroom door. His leg, even though not painful right now crumpled underneath the weight.
"Damn." He swore. Wilson stepped forward to help. "I don't need your help! I never did. Ever!"
"Okay House, I'll leave now." Wilson said and left the flat.
"God Wilson's' annoying!" muttered House. And I can't be screwed to get up...I'll just lie here till the Morphine wears off. Unfortunately.
A/N - I haven't written Chapter Two yet, but If this gets recieved well I'll start :)
I hide myself from the world,
building up walls to keep people out,
I try to keep them up, but instead,
you just knock them right back down.
Why do you really care if I'm happy?
Is it just you caring or is it love?
I want to ask you so many questions,
but it's rather hard to do,
because there is so much I want to confess to you.
About how my love grows for you deeper and deeper everyday,
and how everytime I see you, I could fade away.
Though I'd never protest my love to you,
in the way I'm saying it now.
But, I promise one day, I'll show it,
some way, some how.
--------------------
Sorry guys if it's not really good,
it's my first poem.:/
building up walls to keep people out,
I try to keep them up, but instead,
you just knock them right back down.
Why do you really care if I'm happy?
Is it just you caring or is it love?
I want to ask you so many questions,
but it's rather hard to do,
because there is so much I want to confess to you.
About how my love grows for you deeper and deeper everyday,
and how everytime I see you, I could fade away.
Though I'd never protest my love to you,
in the way I'm saying it now.
But, I promise one day, I'll show it,
some way, some how.
--------------------
Sorry guys if it's not really good,
it's my first poem.:/
A poem I wrote while I was bored. It's about House and his pain. How his pain keeps him from dealing with his problems.
Pain: A House poem.
Pain, It distracts me,
It keeps me from being angry,
It blocks out problems I don’t want to face
Scars vanish without a trace
Pain, It makes me forget
All of my regrets
About those I pushed away
When I really wanted them to stay
Pain, It takes away my fears
Like, if I will be alone the rest of my years
Left here to drown
In all of my secret tears
On pain I am now dependant,
Though it is my assailant
I am as addicted to the pain
As I am to drugs I use to make it no longer remain
Thanks for reading!!! Plz comment!!!
Pain: A House poem.
Pain, It distracts me,
It keeps me from being angry,
It blocks out problems I don’t want to face
Scars vanish without a trace
Pain, It makes me forget
All of my regrets
About those I pushed away
When I really wanted them to stay
Pain, It takes away my fears
Like, if I will be alone the rest of my years
Left here to drown
In all of my secret tears
On pain I am now dependant,
Though it is my assailant
I am as addicted to the pain
As I am to drugs I use to make it no longer remain
Thanks for reading!!! Plz comment!!!