Work Text:
“Hold still, Elliot, it’s for your own good.” his mother spoke softly, holding down his thin arms. He tried to thrash against her, but she was a lot stronger than him. His cheeks were wet with tears, and his nose runny. “Quit squirming, it’s going to hurt if you do.”
“S-stop! Mom, please don’t please please please!” younger Elliot sobbed, his chest heaving up and down. His mom brought the needle closer to his skin, almost pricking the marked flesh on his arm. His entire body tensed as his mother stuck the needle into his arm, a whine escaping his lips.
“Keep count Elliot, if you mess up, we'll have to start all over.” Elliot shook his head no, he didn’t want to keep count, he just wanted this to be over. His mother would know if he messed up the count though, she always did. He didn’t want it to continue. Please be over please just end -
“One,” He cried.
“That’s good, only fourteen more.”
Elliot stared at the needle on the table. He shivered involuntarily. Shayla offered him morphine in that form before but he had always passed on it, preferring pills or powder. When she asked why, he just said that he didn’t really like needles. Never had, though he doesn’t know why.