Things are turning rather bleak, aren't they?

One moment, Will is sitting in his car with a handful of aspirin ready to be taken and in the next, he's on the floor of his bathroom, glasses askew and his eyes bleary with tears begging to be shed.

Every now and again, one of the dogs comes to lick his hand, paw his leg before they saunter away to rest in front of the fireplace yet he doesn't move a single inch from where he lays.

Hours have been taken from him, hours have been robbed from him like his mind is a bank, his memories the currency. Hours taken and this body that's supposed to be his feels like a vessel that he has stolen for his own selfish need.Nothing is his anymore, nothing at all.

Will exhales softly at the sound of the front door opening then closing, his brain urging him to see who it is yet he doesn't move. He merely looks over at the familiar pair of legs walking into view, his blue eyes struggling to keep open.

"Who?" He manages to ask, his foot twitching a tad. "What are you...?" Doing here?