She was a masterpiece
She was a masterpiece. Like some sick artist's version of desolation. She was miserable, but in her misery she was beautiful. A certain beauty possessed her, the beauty that only shows in a break.
It was hard to believe that just two years ago she had been the naïve, innocent, persuasive, young Allison Cameron.
Thinking back on it, he never quite knew why he hired her. Sure, she was beautiful, but that wasn't the real reason. Maybe it was the air of mystery that surrounded her. She wasn't like most women who applied. She was strong. Shoulders back, head up, blue-green eyes focused directly on House's cerulean ones. She answered the questions straightforwardly, with assurance. She looked nice. And yet, there was that faint hint of uncertainly, shyness, which showed ever so discreetly. She kept him hooked, a trait that would continue to betray him during her entire fellowship (and even beyond that).
Now she sits, shoulders hunched. A murderer. Three years have changed her, he thinks, bitterly. He hates change. He studies her, wanting to say something, anything, but he cannot. Three words would be so easy to say right now, but he couldn't do that. That would just break her more. And she is already so torn apart.
"I'm proud of you."
She is already torn apart. And he is proud of that? Proud that she took a life? Tearing herself apart in the process? House turns and walks away. There is no more need for him here.
She was a masterpiece. Like some sick artist's version of desolation. She was miserable, but in her misery she was beautiful. A certain beauty possessed her, the beauty that only shows in a break.
She was beautiful.
Author's Note: Thank you for taking time to read this. This was again, a short drabble, from the mind of an author at three AM. I'd really appriciate it if you would review, I'd love to hear your thoughts. No flames, please. Also, I am in the 'market' for a beta. Anyone interested? Please at least look at some of my other stories before anyone answers. Thanks!