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T-Shot troubles. | @vicodinvindication
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It was quite embarrassing. Pathetic, really.
Heâd been repeating the same steps of taking his t-shots once a week for years, yet there were just some momentsâespecially during depressive episodesâwhere he didnât exactly feel the best. This made it ten times harder to get the motivation for this grueling routine.
Like for example, right now.
âââââââââââââââ-
4:30 AM.
Wilson yawned, rubbing at his tired eyes as he sluggishly made his way down the hallway towards the bathroom. Switching the lights on, he closed the doorâleaving it halfway.
He took a few seconds to look at himself in the mirror. Exhausted eyes, ruffled up hair, lips chapped, the usualâhowever it gave him a sudden pang of insecurity. He hated looking like a mess, but before he was able to get readyâhe needed to start his weekly t-shot. He usually does it every Mondayâbut now that itâs Tuesdayâthere wasnât a later time to do it other than now.
Wilson let out a deep sigh, finger-brushing his hair a-little before opening up the mirror to look into the small compartment behind it. He took ahold of a small, rectangular, blue plastic box and placed it on the edge of the sink before closing the mirror back up.
Once thoroughly sanitizing his hands, he sat on the closed toilet lid and took the box into his lap; opening it up, he started to prep the needle for injectionâbegrudgingly.
While he usually heard House up by this time, Wilson mustâve been so worked up by the needle-induced anxiety that he didnât hear the tapping of the mans caneâand before he could process and call outâthe door was swiftly pushed open.
He sat up slightly to look over at the door, tensing up with a needle in one hand and the other pinching at an area of skin on his stomach.
















