Will was left alone in silence, and he wrapped his arms over his head and pulled himself into a ball, rocking back and forth with a soft whine. He wasn't going to fuck up again. He wasn't. Not again. A few minutes later, the instructions started up again, and he cried silently behind his arms.
The hours dragged. That waft of coffee scent was long gone, but Will craved it terribly. He also craved the Vicodin, but there was nothing of that either.
Every person is responsible for their own actions.