This has been bouncing around in my head for a while now, and here it is. I don't usually write chapter stories, but with this one I'm willing to give it the ol' college try! I always wondered what it would be like if Thirteen had a sister who had Huntington's like her and how she would interact with her and her family if she had to face them. This story is taking place around season five when Foreman and Thirteen were still together. In this story Thirteen is about 26 and her little sister is 15, which would mean that Thirteen's mom was pregnant when she went away. Milly is somewhat based off a combination of Thirteen and my's personalities, so she has the additude of Thirteen and the interests of me! Read and review! I update sooner if I know that other people like it!
Disclaimer: I don't own House M.D. or the characters...except Milly Hadley
High school sucks major shit. That was the only thought that I could even muster as I stomped into the house and slammed the front door shut behind me. My brain was mush in my skull as I went over all the homework my teachers had to assign us; finals were closing in and it seemed that every teacher was trying to cram in as many last minute lessons that our little minds would allow before our brains simply exploded. My muscles ached as I stomped into the kitchen for comfort food. Our director had given us another brutal rehearsal, claiming that even though finals were coming didn't mean that we couldn't give one hundred and ten percent into our singing, dancing, and acting and my body was hurting right down to the bones. I opened the freezer and brought out a carton of chocolate ice cream that was sure to be able to wash my exhaustion away. I walked over to the drawer to look for a spoon when my hand shook violently and the ice cream fell with a loud thud to the floor. Silently cursing everyone and their second cousin, I bent down and picked up the empty carton. Huffing an angry sigh, I grabbed the dish rag from the sink and went to clean up the sticky mess that now covered most of the floor. Apparently when ice cream falls it doesn't just fall, it explodes.
My dad came walking into the kitchen mumbling something about "slamming things around" just as I was bending down to wipe up the mess. He saw the puddle of chocolate and bent down to help clean it up but when he tried to take the rag from me I swatted his hands away. He gave up trying and settled for rinsing out the carton and setting it next to the stove where it would wait to be put into the recycling. My dad hated recycling, but I insisted on keeping the green tubs with one ultimatum; I put them out every Monday morning. Sure getting up extra early sucked, but it's better than having landfills in every blank space of land. Dad pulled out one of the wicker chairs that we kept at a small table in the kitchen mostly for show, the scraping of the chair legs across the vinyl floor itched behind my eyes and I fought against the desire to cover my ears to block out the nauseating sound.
"So the ice cream wouldn't scoop and you decided to throw it on the floor?" I heard the joke in my dad's voice, but I still glared at the floor. He sighed in exhaustion and I knew that he was running his hands through his gray balding hair, a tick that I had discovered he used when he was frustrated or nervous. He tried again, "you were angry at the world and decided to take it out on the defenseless frozen milk?" I nodded to myself.
"More or less," I smirked despite my anger. Finally the floor was clear of any stickiness and the rag in my hand was now a strange brown/blue hybrid color from the melted ice cream and was starting to drip onto my clean floor. I rushed to the sink and rinsed out the cloth before throwing it down the stairs to get washed in the laundry. Still not meeting my father's eyes, I inched to the hallway where my room waited. After confirming that I didn't want to talk about my day, dad heaved himself up and slowly walked out of the kitchen and into the living room where the stairs lead to the upstairs part of our house where his office was. Dad often was working in his office away from home as a lawyer, but occasionally he would bring his work home so he could be home when school let out. Even though he wasn't working during some nights, we often went our separate ways until dinner time when my brother would come over and we all would sit down for a nice "family" dinner…his words not mine. Even though my older sister had been invited many times, she had yet to show for dinner besides on holidays. She didn't keep in contact with us much and I honestly couldn't blame her; if I had the choice, I would run away from this family too.
I know that my father enjoyed having time with his children, but I also know that it pained him to be around us. We were a constant reminder of our mom who had died early in my life. I never knew my mother, but I had seen pictures and heard stories about her. I knew enough that my sister and I looked almost identical to her and my brother had her hair. Benny had inherited her curly dark brown hair and our father's light brown eyes where my sister and I had gotten the opposite. We both had our father's light brown hair that has a slight wave in it, although mine is too short to, so to say, "catch the wave". We both also inherited our mother's eyes, a cool aquamarine that people always seemed to notice. I knew that every time my father looked at us, he felt the pang of sadness that had consumed him when my mother died, wondering which of us is next.
From the stories, I also had learned that my mother died from a long term disease called Huntington's. I looked up the disease and learned that my sister, my brother, and I all had a fifty-fifty chance of contracting the disease. After looking up the symptoms online I had been watching them for signs that I had the disease. Of course it was ridiculous to assume that they would show when I was still a teenager, but paranoia had gotten to me and I found myself watching my every move very carefully. Occasionally I would have a tremor in my hand and that would get me extra paranoid. Obviously these tremors were simply my imagination acting up; I was watching for the disease, so I saw the disease. However, what happened today was not my imagination. Never had my hand trembled that bad, mostly it was just a little shaking in it, but this time it had jerked violently, unpredictably, and most importantly, out of my control.
I shook my head at my morbid thoughts and plopped myself onto my bed. I felt my body relax slowly and the tension leave my shoulders. Soon enough, I was drifting in and out of consciousness like a dead man in limbo; never fully anywhere, yet still everywhere at once.
Loud knocking on the front door jerked me awake from my peaceful sleep. I walked slowly out of my room, through the living room, and into our small entry area. As I walked, I tried to catch the silky wisps of the dream I had, but they were already drifting away into my subconscious where they would be logged and remembered. I opened the door and smiled up at my older brother who stood at a tall five foot ten inches. He looked healthy for being twenty nine, all those morning runs and gym sessions had paid off. He strode through the threshold and ruffled my hair in one swift movement. I shot a death glare at him as I ran my fingers through my cropped hair, trying desperately to untangle the knots that had appeared there during my nap as if by magic. I followed Benny's retreating footsteps as he made his way into the clean living room. I pushed past him when he stopped by the bookshelf and, ignoring his complaints, snatched up the remote and plopped myself on the couch. Our flat screen clicked on with a cheerful beeping sound, opening up to a scene from my favorite T.V. show The Office. The corners of my mouth turned up as the characters began bickering over who they would get for secret Santa and for a minute I almost forgot to be mad at the world, however, that quickly went away when Benny flopped down next to me, looking very much out of place on our white couch with his fancy suit and tie. Sure our family had money, but after Benny and my sister moved out my dad and I moved into a smaller house on the outskirts of New Jersey that was nice and elegant, yet still had a comfortable feel to it. I loved our house; it didn't feel like we were flaunting our money even if we had more than most.
I heard the door to dad's study open from upstairs and he loudly stomped down the steps. When he got to the bottom he stopped for a second at the sight of us, surprised to see both of us sitting on the couch…probably more so surprised that we weren't fighting. Even though Benny was about fourteen years older than me, he still sometimes acted like he was a teenager. Dad smiled widely and Benny stood up to shake his hand. I rolled my eyes sarcastically; they acted like we never saw each other. Dad sat down in the chair next to Benny's side of the couch, still smiling widely. I wanted so desperately to tell him that he had something in his teeth, just to make him check but I stayed silent.
"So Benny how have you been, did you win that big contract with Sattax?" Benny nodded, with a smile to match my father's.
"We beat Brinley to the punch."
"That's my boy," Dad clapped Benny on the shoulder and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes again. I almost did when Benny asked the stupidest question that he possibly could. "So is Remy not coming again?" Dad's smile wavered a bit, but if Benny noticed he didn't say anything.
"No, Remy has a case at the hospital that needs her attention, she sends her apologies." This time I did roll my eyes in, what I hoped, was a discreet way, but I saw Benny shoot me a glare from the corner of my eye. I chose to ignore it, Remy hadn't shown up for a dinner all year, and I didn't expect her to jump the gun now. I didn't know why she hated us so much, just that the few times she had called this past year her and dad had talked for only about fifteen minutes and that she never asked to talk to me. Personally, I was fine with that. I didn't need another older sibling in my life, Benny was enough. When we were kids, Remy never really hung out with me either…I guess that's the price I have to pay when she's eleven years older than me.
Dad and Benny both stood up quickly and started heading for the kitchen, figuring that it was time to start dinner, I followed them slowly, not at all interested in their conversations about business deals and tax credits. While Benny and dad cooked dinner, I sat at the small table, helping out now and then when they needed it. I hated the fact that I had to sit down and watch them cook. Usually, I'm the one ordering them around the kitchen. I love to cook and bake, but I was afraid that I would drop something in front of them and they would get worried. So, instead of cooking, I sat at the small table. I lifted my hands slowly, as if testing their control. Both of them were shaking slightly and I clenched them into fists and slid lower down in my chair.
When dinner was nearly done, I set the table nice and neatly; if that was going to be the only thing I could do that night, then I was going to do it perfectly. I sat down at my place and Benny and dad carried out the chicken, mashed potatoes, and fresh corn. After a quick prayer, we all dug into the food. After I loaded my plate with potatoes, I grabbed the gravy boat. I felt the muscles tense up in my arm and, before I could even think of stopping it, my hand jerked harshly, sending the gravy boat crashing to the table, most of the gravy landing in Benny's lap. I felt my eyes widen in horror and my hands automatically went to my face. I stammered my apologies as Benny dabbed at his suit.
"Benny, I'm sorry I didn't mean to. It was an accident, I'm so sorry." Benny held up a hand to stop me.
"Milly, it's okay. I know that you would never throw hot gravy on me on purpose." He chuckled lightly at his joke, seeming unfazed. However, I was growing more and more embarrassed by the minute. Tears swam in my vision and I stood up before they could spill over.
"Excuse me," as I ran out of the dining room, I heard Benny exclaim,
"Come on Mill, it was a joke!" I ran down the hall and into my room where I fell onto my bed and sobbed into my pillow. A knock at my door brought my head up. I grabbed a tissue and blew my nose as I yelled at the door.
"Go away!"
"Come on Milly, let me in, I was only kidding I know you didn't mean to do it." I ignored my brother's request.
"Go away!" Before I could shout some more, I heard Benny retreat down the hallway and I felt a grim satisfaction. I laid my head back down on my pillow and felt exhausted despite my earlier nap. I didn't dare to go back out there, or I would be harassed with questions and accusations. So instead, I laid on my bed and tried to pretend like my life was normal. That I didn't possibly have a disease that my mother gave me that would kill me around middle age. That I didn't have a suckish relationship with my dad, brother, and sister. That I was a normal teenager with normal problems like what I would wear to the next dance when, in reality, I had never been to our school's dances.
I don't know how long I laid there, but if I hadn't heard the front door slam shut, then I would have never known that the dinner fiasco was over. I listened for more sounds in the quiet house, and heard the door to my father's study slam shut. I quietly slipped out of my room and tiptoed down the hallway like a kid trying to raid the cookie jar. I walked quickly through the family room and up the stairs where I stopped at the door to dad's office. I held my breath as I listened outside the door. He sounded like he was talking on the phone to someone.
"Hello, Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital? Yes, I would like to speak to Doctor Remy Hadley if she's available. Yes, I can wait." There was a long stretch of silence and I felt my feet grow asleep as I stayed crouched outside of the door. When he spoke up again it nearly made me jump. "Hello, Remy? Yes it's your dad. Honey, I have something to tell you." Silence again as my sister responded. "I think your sister has the disease."