A/N: I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack. I was going through some of my old files on my laptop and found something I'd written in addition to the other stories and figured I'd post it. It's more of an in depth look at some of the main character's thoughts throughout all three stories - which you should read if you haven't read them yet, or you'll probably not understand any of this. It's also written in second person, a definite change from my previous style. Let me know what you think! Yes, I know the title is tacky central, but I haven't changed any of it since I wrote it way back then.
The Roads that Lead You Home
ALLIE
You wonder as you sit here alone, if the fight you've been putting up was even worth it? You don't even know if anybody has figured out where you are or if they even care anymore. You've already put them through hell, so why would they?
You never told anybody, but you liked to watch them long after they thought you'd gone to bed. You always hear people talking about them, saying "opposites attract" and that it wouldn't last long, but you know the real truth. You remember how he would put on some music, grab her hand and dance in the middle of the living room floor. You remember how she would place her head on his shoulder and stay that way for what seemed like hours. He saw you once, but said nothing as you peeked around the corner, you stuffed animal trailing to the floor. You never mention anything to them, only crawl back to bed with a smile on your face.
You'll never forget the look she gave you as the shots echoed through the warehouse. It was like one of those gangster movies your dad is so fond of - the loud fire of the gun and the slow motion descent to the floor, only this time not behind the protection of a television screen. You wonder why she smiled at you as she fell to the ground, her blood splattering you in the process. You know that smile will haunt you for the rest of your life.
People are swarming around you, but you hardly notice, nor do you care. The last thing you see as you are taken from the warehouse is your father, cradling your mother in his arms in a pool of red on the floor. You don't really comprehend what is going on, but you know things will never be the same again. You don't really know if you want to find this out.
All you want, is to just go home.
HOUSE
You remember the first time you met her. You remember that smug smile and the strength as she reached across the desk to shake your hand. Somehow you knew she'd be the one - the one to keep you in line, queen of the do-gooders. You told her she'd just be something nice to look at, but you hide behind your façade and play it off as nothing special. She catches you staring at her as she leaves your office and you quickly look away, though you can't help but wonder if she's thinking the same thing. You have been waiting for someone like her to come along.
You remember that you lost your voice from whining the night your daughter was born. You realized early on that you were not father material and your kid would end up needing a shrink, just like everyone has been saying you do. It changes though, as Allison puts her into your arms and she immediately stops crying. As her tiny eyes look up into yours, you realize you've finally gotten something right. You look down and promise to protect her from anything and everything. You didn't realize you'd fail to keep your promise.
She reached out with her tiny arms stretched towards yours, trying to reach out to you as he ran through the hospital lobby. Tears streaked down her face as she wailed your name. You threw down your cane, ignoring the pain as you ran forward to her outstretched arms. For your efforts, you receive a face full of glass and the realization that life as you knew it, was pretty much over. Her six year old face haunts your memory all day long as people tell you everything will be okay. You barely listen, you only sit there with Allison's hand in yours, saying nothing at all. You know every story doesn't always have a happy ending and you've never been much of an optimist.
Most of the time, you just want to go home and pretend this was all one long nightmare.
ALLISON
You know for the sake of your health and those around you that you should try and pull yourself together. The sadness is overwhelming and it's simply easier to admit defeat. You hate the pity you see in his eyes as he goes to work every morning - how does he do it? You assume he might just be the cold hearted jerk everyone once told you he was. He's given up and you can't help but hate him for it. You fail to realize it's been 8 years and giving up is the one thing that holds you back.
You stare at the white pills in your hand and laugh as you realize he'll wonder where his pills have gone before he even asks about you. That's the way he operates and you should have known better. You wake up hours later in a hospital bed with him by your side and you refuse to meet his worrying eyes. You knew it was the cowards way out but you couldn't help but wonder if it might have worked. You wanted a way out. You didn't want to see the helpless blue eyes of your little girl from the lifeless photos on your desk anymore. You wanted to hold her in your arms, but it's been eight years and you know deep down that you'll probably never have that again.
He convinces you that you need to let it go, and put her to rest. Your therapist agrees with him and you can't help but think they're taking sides. The medicine that they give you barely takes the edge off the deep emotional hell you've been dwelling in for the past eight years, but nevertheless you adopt the "I'm fine" face that you know all too well. A mass of balloons sail up into the sky, representing your daughter leaving you. Latex and plastic with an empty core - it's what your heart has turned into. You don't know if you love him anymore, and you know you've lost the love for yourself as well. You were her mother and you were suppose to protect her. You are a failure.
Things were suppose to be different when you realized she was indeed alive. You begin to think your smile is genuine as you see her rise from death in her hospital bed, talking to everyone and assuring them that she is okay. You've got what you wanted back, but you quickly realize that she doesn't need you anymore. She is not the six year old little girl that you knew, and she resents you for treating her like she is. You see them together and you wonder how she can get along so well with him after all these years? He is after all, the one that failed to save you! You silence yourself and quietly scold yourself for even having those thoughts.
You wish for the ability to turn back time, and are ashamed at yourself for wondering if things would have turned out better had she never left the William's home at all.
MARIE
You never really meant to go along with your husband when he told you what would happen. You were never the kind of person who thought marrying him would make you a criminal. You lay eyes on this scared little girl and you instantly think of the daughter that left you years ago because of him. You tell your husband that you'll go along with it, but you promise yourself then and there that you will take care of her. You see her family and their worrying eyes on the television screen and the guilt flows through every pore on your skin. You decide then and there that you'll try and make things the best you can for her while she's here.
You give her everything that she asks for without hesitation. She's got more than most teenagers her age, but she is definitely not one of the normal ones. For the past eight years she's been kept in this house, not allowed past the gate that surrounds the many acres of your property. You try your hardest to protect her from his rage, and for the most part you succeed. There are many times that leave her black and blue on the floor, but you take the blows for her most of the time. As you meet her in her room the next morning to tutor her in her studies, you can't overlook the sympathy that spills from her blue eyes. You cried the day she placed her hand on yours and said that you were both prisoners.
It was you that left the door unlocked that morning. You were not an idiot, you knew that she was waiting for the chance to get away. You just decided it had gone on for too long and that you would help her. You'd grown close to this child in the past eight years and deep down, you can't help but consider her like your own daughter. She tells you things about her family, and what she left behind but you don't say much. She tells you it would be so easy for both of them to just up and leave, and that her family would help her get away from him. You turn away when she says this and leave her in her bedroom. He's home and you don't want him to overhear.
You know she's listening as you "accidentally" forget to lock her door that night. You turn to say goodnight to her and she surprises you as she hugs you to her, tears in her eyes. You know this will equal your death, but you couldn't live any longer, knowing you were keeping her from a real life. As the alarm sounds in the house early that morning, you curse yourself for realizing you forget to deactivate it. He looks at you with that fierce look in his eyes and you know it's pointless to escape. You can only hope that she's gotten a good head start. Twenty minutes later, as he presses the end of the cold metal gun to your temple, you smile because you know she succeeded.
You hope she makes it home alive.
You're still in a bit of shock that so many people would line up to buy your book that's finally been published. Your dad beams at you as he steps through the crowd of news reporters with his copy in his hands. You take a black pen to the dedication page and sign your name with a flourish. One of the reporters enquires about the odd dedication on second page of the 500 page memoir. You realize it's a little bit odd to many, why you would dedicate the book to the wife of the man who stole you away that day so many years ago. It doesn't seem odd to you though, because without her, you would have been dead long ago.
You love that you see so much of yourself in her. You remember back to the time when you thought you'd be an awful father, and that you'd screw her up big time and those thoughts make you laugh now. Allison has been dead for two years now, but you realize as you catch your daughter making fun of Chase, that she didn't turn out so bad after all. You're proud to call her yours and smile and can't help but think Allison would be proud too.
You don't know if you can call where you are heaven, but you're just glad that you can watch them as often as you like. You're happy to see that both of them have faired well in the years following your death. It's the little things that make you smile, as you see House and your daughter watching gory movies with Wilson, making him turn green with gruesome remarks - or the little moments they share as they talk about you. He's a better parent that you ever could have been, and you're so proud of him. You catch him staring at your photo sometimes, and you know he knows it too.
You never told anybody that you grabbed the gun from him. It was assumed that he shot you, then killed himself. They were not there to see him stagger to the car with a gunshot wound to his head, still alive, but fading fast. You told him this was for everything, for her, and pulled the trigger. You walked upstairs to the sound of approaching sirens and grabbed the second gun you knew he kept in his nightstand and walked into what had been her room. You wrote her a letter, explaining everything and apologized countless times. You raised the gun to your head and pulled the trigger. They found your body in the home later that morning, the letter by your side. You had no idea that years down the line, that would be one of the things that she cherished the most. You can't help but be happy that through this all, at least you've done something right.