Long Night (pg)
It’s getting late, and his leg has been bordering on the unbearable for the past two days. He lay on the couch rubbing and rubbing his mangled thigh and alternating heat and ice for as much as he can tolerate it. He checked the time to see if he could take some more Vicodin and decided unless he wanted to go into acute liver failure, he needed to wait a little longer.
He grabbed the remote off the coffee table and flicked around the channels trying to find something to occupy his mind and to keep it off the locked metal box on the top of the bookshelf. He settled on Paris Hilton is my new BFF in hopes of there being some hot chicks, but even that couldn’t deviate his attention from the agonizing pain he was experiencing.
He debated calling Wilson but he really didn’t want him knowing how much pain he was experiencing right now. Wilson would ingrain himself and insist on an MRI or admitting him and blood tests and he was just too tired to deal with that kind of caring.
House wiped the sweat off his brow and put the ice pack back on his leg. He picked up his very light bottle of Vicodin and counted the remaining pills and sighed. It looked like he was going to have to talk to Wilson either way. But not tonight. He tossed back three pills and swallowed, shutting his eyes and waited for the pain to be bearable enough for him to move to the bedroom to lie awake, alternating counting the cracks in the ceiling and the beating of his heart in his ears.
He grabbed the remote off the coffee table and flicked around the channels trying to find something to occupy his mind and to keep it off the locked metal box on the top of the bookshelf. He settled on Paris Hilton is my new BFF in hopes of there being some hot chicks, but even that couldn’t deviate his attention from the agonizing pain he was experiencing.
He debated calling Wilson but he really didn’t want him knowing how much pain he was experiencing right now. Wilson would ingrain himself and insist on an MRI or admitting him and blood tests and he was just too tired to deal with that kind of caring.
House wiped the sweat off his brow and put the ice pack back on his leg. He picked up his very light bottle of Vicodin and counted the remaining pills and sighed. It looked like he was going to have to talk to Wilson either way. But not tonight. He tossed back three pills and swallowed, shutting his eyes and waited for the pain to be bearable enough for him to move to the bedroom to lie awake, alternating counting the cracks in the ceiling and the beating of his heart in his ears.