25th October, 9am. Prison cell.
Oct. 25th, 2012 11:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
therealpm*Peter's head feels groggy. He's been taking the new painkillers for three days now, and has spent much of his time in a supine haze, unable to feel any pain. At first he was able to concentrate enough to hold conversations with The Machine when John was out of the room, but as time progressed he became steadily more detached- floating free in his own imagination.
Today, though, John is late with the painkillers and the opiate fog is beginning to wear off. The pain in his veins and accompanying feeling of being nibbled from the inside out has died down since the beginning of treatment- Peter supposes that either he has become accustomed to it, or his wolf form has mostly died and there is little left for the mixture to attack. What is new is a feeling of dampness under his shoulders, sacrum and heels, that sticks and stings when he tries to move. He turns his head and sniffs. The sheets smell appalling and he can just see a spreading sickly yellow stain out of the corner of his eye. He gags, and tries to call for someone, but his mouth is dry. Rattling the restraints does little beyond reminding him of the bruising on his wrists and ankles. He tries to shift from the dampness slightly, and resigns himelf to waiting.*
Today, though, John is late with the painkillers and the opiate fog is beginning to wear off. The pain in his veins and accompanying feeling of being nibbled from the inside out has died down since the beginning of treatment- Peter supposes that either he has become accustomed to it, or his wolf form has mostly died and there is little left for the mixture to attack. What is new is a feeling of dampness under his shoulders, sacrum and heels, that sticks and stings when he tries to move. He turns his head and sniffs. The sheets smell appalling and he can just see a spreading sickly yellow stain out of the corner of his eye. He gags, and tries to call for someone, but his mouth is dry. Rattling the restraints does little beyond reminding him of the bruising on his wrists and ankles. He tries to shift from the dampness slightly, and resigns himelf to waiting.*
