A/N: I'm really addicted to writing at the moment so I hope you enjoy reading as much as I do writing. This is just a short oneshot set immediately after Cameron leaves in series 6. hope you enjoy
Oh and I don't own house.
A car door jolted me out of my reverie and I jumped up from the sofa. My eyes stung from tears that had stopped flowing a long time ago; just another thing in my life that had ended. My muscles screamed as they moved for the first time in hours, awakened from their sleep. My tired eyes searched for the clock. 11:00. 3 hours since she left, since she'd swept the broken shards of our marriage out of the door along with her suitcase. Now it finally dawned on me: I was alone. The melancholy daze I'd been sitting in for the past 3 hours slowly vanished and I realised how irrevocably alone I was. I stood, not quite sure what to do with myself, not sure what I was supposed to do in this situation. I stumbled dazedly towards our bedroom. My bedroom. The overwhelming sensation that I was drowning washed over me. I went to gasp for air but swallowed water and started choking instead. The picture Emma Sloan had taken of her all those years ago- those years when everything was simple- sat on our bed. My bed. She'd obviously found it when packing her things. A half empty bottle of her perfume lay on the dresser smothering the room in her scent. I collapsed onto the bed too dejected to move properly and curled up in a ball. I was a 15 year old boy again: disappointed, disillusioned and deserted. I hadn't moved on at all since that night my father had left. I was in the same position and the same state of mind
DEPRESSED.