You walk around in a daze for the rest of the day after you get the news of your father's death. After work you go home, get drunk and pass out on your living room floor at around three in the morning. You're late to work as a result, something which House takes great pleasure in – along with your obvious hangover – and he sends you to do his clinic hours as punishment. You're fairly sure your head's going to explode after the fifth screaming child you're forced to see but you resolutely finish the hours before sneaking House's 'secret' bottle of whiskey from his office.
You take it up to the roof and you've drunk half of it before House finds you. You don't bother wondering how he knew you were there as you numbly listen to him shouting at you – he mostly seems pissed about the fact that you stole his alcohol, not that you're drunk at work. You watch him steadily as you chug down about half of what's left in the bottle and he narrows his eyes at you.
"You're replacing that," he informs you, before turning around and leaving.
Wilson comes up five minutes later and you're not sure if it's coincidence or if House sent him, but it doesn't make a difference as your boss' friend hauls you back to his office. He lectures you along the way but you're really not listening and you don't even wince as he sticks you with a needle and starts a banana bag IV. You watch the liquid dripping down, listening to the sound of Wilson's pen scratching on paper and before long you're asleep on his sofa.
The next day you don't bother turning up for work at all but House comes all the way to your apartment, forces you into some clothes and drives you to the hospital. Kayla dies later that day and you realise with a sick fascination that you care more about her death than your father's. You go home and drink yourself into oblivion.
You spend a large part of the next morning vomiting and after a while give up any hope of getting out of the bathroom. House comes to find you again and rolls his eyes when he sees the mess you're in.
"You're pathetic," he tells you. "You lost a patient – it happens, to all of us. Get up off your ass, take a shower and go to work."
"Go away," you mumble before your stomach churns again at the reminder of what happened.
"I'd have thought you'd be more careful about drinking after what happened to Mommy."
"Fuck you," you utter quietly, but the words cut through the quiet bathroom.
He leaves after that and you sink back down beside the toilet, lying on the cool floor and trying to remember the last time you washed it.
You force yourself to go to work the next day but you're not able to focus on anything and you're unbelievably thankful when you can leave. You change into normal clothes at the hospital and go straight to the nearest club, scope out a drug dealer and buy some acid. As soon as you're home you take it and you spend the rest of the evening talking to the big, white cat that won't stop following you around.
You wake up curled up under your bed and vow never to take LSD – or any other hallucinogenic drug – ever again. It takes another four days of you abusing your liver and fucking with your head before House figures out what's happened. You can't even summon up the strength to be pissed that he knew your dad was dying and didn't tell you. He sends you to talk to Wilson (did everyone know except you?) and somehow you end up sobbing into his shirt as he wraps his arms around you, but as you fall asleep on his sofa – again – you feel better than you have done in over a week.