It eats away at me
The blood, caked on her face
The pole jutting out of her leg
Her scared, little child's eyes
She's cold
Wilson's eyes, browning, his face slackening
The throttle of the bus as it flipped,
Knocking her head into the stairwell
House's and her hands barely meeting
The lines under her eyes as she stared at him on the bus
It is bright, the bus is right side up
Wilson's hands, relaxing as House blinks, heart beginning to bloom
No one knows what he is thinking
But muttered words from a dry mouth
Thirsting for oxygen
"Amber… Amber" and Wilson is hit head on
He hasn't talked to her yet that evening
His jaw trembles, his throat constricts
And now he wants to be sick, violently
House's eyelids are pink and empty
There is to be no peace between them tonight
Maybe the hated waterbed with its gold sheets
Will finally be, only Wilson's