House let out a breath and pulled his head up. He looked down to the empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. He couldn't believe it went down so smooth and so fast. He hated that bastard cop. All of this just because he stuck a thermometer up his ass? Pfft, he did that all the time.
He couldn't help but laugh at himself… How could this be happening?…To him of all people? He wanted to take the deal. He knew he had to, but now… the opportunity was wasted all because he needed those damn pills.
He looked down to his leg. He had been drinking for hours; so long that he didn't even feel the pain anymore. That's all he ever wanted. Just… not to feel that pain. No one would ever know how it felt to be in constant, never ending, and merciless agony.
Cuddy didn't know, Wilson didn't know… none of them did and deep within his soul, he couldn't help but hate them for it.
He dropped the glass bottle at the side of the couch and forced himself to sit up at least a little bit. The bottle of Vicadin was sitting right there on the table. It could be so damned easy to just take them all and get it over with. He knew that he wouldn't be able to survive a day in a jail cell.
He closed his eyes as they welled up with tears. There was this growing ache in his stomach. He didn't know if it was from all the alcohol or if it was from what he knew was coming. That fucker would drive him crazy placing charge after charge after charge on him. He wouldn't be able to work; he wouldn't be able to live.
He knew now that he wouldn't take the apology. It was way passed that now.
After a few moments, he found himself staring at that orange bottle, full of pills that he had yet to swallow. He hadn't taken one. Not a single god damn pill.
He reached up, but grabbed the phone, dialing Wilson's number. The bland tone of that ring made him twitch a little. What would he say to him? What could he say to him? He was the one that betrayed him -- no…. He thought. I, was the one that betrayed them.
He clenched his teeth as he heard Wilson's voice.
"Hello?" Wilson was so naïve. Did he really think that when he did want to take the deal, that they'd let him. "Hello? …House is that yo--"
"Wilson," he interrupted. His voice was weak and coarse. He found that it was hard to say anything to him. He found that it was hard to even speak.
"House, I really don--"
"I…" House cleared his throat, trying to keep himself together. "I can't take the deal."
"House, you need to take the deal. You're killing yourself. We're all worried about you, Cuddy is--"
"No," he swallowed hard. "You don't get it, you dumb ass! He won't let me! I was going to take the deal! I don't want to go to jail, damn it! I told him I'd take it, but he said… He said it was too late." His voice cracked.
Wilson's eyes widened. "What?" He sat down, putting his hand to his forehead. House was going to jail? It was because of him. He knew it, but… He had to. House would have killed himself, right? He kept on telling himself that he did it just for that reason, but…
"I'm sorry," House said, biting his lip to keep himself from breaking.
Wilson breathed. "I… am too."
"No, Wilson…" House closed his eyes, tears rolling down his red cheeks. "I'm sorry for this. I was stupid and stubborn for not listening to you and Cuddy. I'm sorry. I knew I had a problem I just didn't want to admit it. But you don't know how bad the pain is. You could never understand. You'll never understand."
Wilson couldn't believe it. House was actually crying. He knew it was bad now.
"I don't know if I -- I can't take it anymore." He swallowed hard. Thoughts were racing through his head. Thoughts he had before; thoughts he never thought he'd have again.
"Don't talk like that, House. You'll be fine. You're not even sure if you'll have to go to jail. The judge may be lenient. You're one of the good guys, remember?"
"Yeah right, Wilson. I doubt it." House reached out for the pills and held the bottle tightly in his hands. "I'm fucked whichever way you want to put it."
"Stop talking like that, I know you'll--"
"I… Will you please tell Cuddy that I'm sorry… and the rest of them. I don't think I'll ever… see them again." He opened the bottle of pills and dumped one of them out into his hand. He paused for a moment, looking over the smooth surface of the pill he used to carry so much comfort in. It was so small, but it was so big at the same time.
He was so captivated with it. He bit his lip. What would happen if he took all of them? He only took 4 that one night Wilson came in to find him on the floor laying in his own vomit. What if he took… thirty six? He knew what would happen.
Would that be better than going to jail? He closed his eyes and clenched his fist around the pill.
"…Don't talk like that, House. Please, you're worrying me…" House was sure he'd been talking for a while but he just wasn't paying attention.
"Wilson, shut up. You know what's going to happen, and you know what's going to happen if I go to jail. I'll die… Might as well now. When I have the chance to do it on my own."
"Don't, House…" Wilson stood, grabbing his keys and his coat. He'd go over there if he had to. The way he was talking, he needed to get there fast.
"Everyone has to die, Wilson. Some people just choose the fun way… Just… make sure, you tell them I'm sorry. Please?"
Wilson was driving off from his house, towards his. "Don't hang up, House. I'll kill you myself if you do."
"Sorry, Wilson…" He threw the phone to the floor and opened his fist, staring at the vicadin. It would be too easy… Way too easy.
I might continue this... if I get enough reviews. Or, I just might leave it the way it is. I'm not sure if House would really try suicide or not... even if he WAS drunk. But, yeah... Oh, and... I always forget that cops name, what is it again? o. o I forgotted. Lol. TELL MEH!!! Well please review? PLEASE? ...Thankies :)