❗️ON GOING❗️FIRST CHAPTERS UNDERGOING *MINOR* EDITING ❗️
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Brett Talbot imagines! YEY! Making more Brett Talbot imagines because there's still a lot to be written :D Message me here or on tumblr and...
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And here we are again :) Hope you guys enjoy this! Don't forget to read first the part 1 of this request so as to either refresh your memories or so won't get confused by the storyline.
Warning: abuse? gore? idk, it's teen wolf
Also, I need to lessen myself from writing hard angsty(is it considered as?) imagines because it's literally draining all my thoughts lol. I'm going to try and lay off of it for awhile first and try to write lighthearted ones so that I can up the mood of my writing again.
Again, if any mistakes sorry! not sure if I need to remind that English is not really my first language :(
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You laid still on the table while the dirty musky scent of the all too familiar room filled your lungs, Theo standing at the far corner of it away from you with his back leaning against the wall. Your hand unconsciously reached out for your older brother, giving a silent plea for help as tears rolled down your cheeks. He only looked away, pretending that he didn't see you as you felt the stinging pain in your neck by the large needle that routinely injected you with a poison that fought off the deterioration of your health.
You were already starting to feel tired, your throat dry and rough from all the screaming you did just hours ago when they took you in for the nth time. Your eyes couldn't focus on anything as you looked up, shadowy figures and a bright light in the center of it all was all you could register. You felt the icy metal fingers of the scientists tightened the straps that held you down against the cold metal table, the static noise they made as they conversed was what was lulling you to close your eyes.
With a heavy sigh, your eyes gave up on you and eventually your muddled brain went with it.
It didn't take too long for you to wake up and just like always, you found yourself in bed with limbs that felt so heavy that you couldn't move from the soreness of it all. You still felt drowsy but you fought it off and attempted to sit up.
"Theo," you called out, looking around your room to see any sign of him.
You wanted to tell him that it was enough, that you've had enough of it and you didn't want to do it again; didn't want to endure every sting of a needle they jabbed in you and every hit they sent your way. You were tired and you were getting weaker despite not showing it physically – but the doctors already knew that but Theo didn't.
