![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
OOM: Room 75
Oct. 20th, 2005 04:43 pmWellard sits on the edge of his bed, elbows on knees, face in his hands.
The bottle sat on the table across the room.
He was not even looking at it. He already had the dose for today, and
not enough- too much
no more. As much as it hurt, he had kept himself to the carefully measured and rationed doses. But the bottle was still there, and he did not think he had enough strength or energy to drag himself down to the bar room today. Or ever again.
But this had to stop sometime, right?
The bottle sat on the table across the room.
He was not even looking at it. He already had the dose for today, and
not enough- too much
no more. As much as it hurt, he had kept himself to the carefully measured and rationed doses. But the bottle was still there, and he did not think he had enough strength or energy to drag himself down to the bar room today. Or ever again.
But this had to stop sometime, right?
