Chapter 21

House awoke around 8AM; surprisingly early considering how little sleep he had had the night before. He was grateful that Issy was at the hospital and he had some time to himself. He needed to process everything that she had told him.

After wandering to the bathroom for elimination purposes, he then headed to the kitchen. Despite the highly emotionally charged night and the minute amount of sleep, Issy still had his coffee and his breakfast sandwich waiting for him. He poured a mug of coffee, added two spoons of sugar and carried the mug and the sandwich out to the couch.

He thought as he dined. The lack of family photos and other mementos made sense now that he knew her haste for leaving home. He understood now why she had a photo of just her father and not both parents, and why she only had the one. At least he had gotten a few answers to the questions that had plagued him.

But the biggest question of all was why had her dad left? Certainly men abandoned their families all the time, but Issy had painted him as such a devoted father that it seemed out of character for him to do so. Had he really been that devoted, or was it just a child's wishful thinking? Especially when you considered the horrors that she lived through after he left. Naturally her real dad would be a saint compared to Frank.

Where had he gone and why had he never contacted Issy again? Had he tried and his letters and phone calls had been intercepted by her mother? Had he met with an accident? House didn't know, but he had to find out. This wasn't the same as a medical mystery, but it was almost as intriguing.

He had long ago discovered the cigar box that she kept in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. He found her little envelope system of banking amusing and had wondered at the time if she had ever had a bank account. Probably not, since most of her income had been off the books.

He ignored the envelopes today and went right to the stack of papers at the bottom of the box. Her car title, insurance papers, college transcripts and other important papers were there. At the very bottom was the paper he sought.

Her birth certificate revealed her father's name: John William Walker, a relatively common name which would make him more difficult to locate. Unfortunately it did not list his Social Security number. His occupation was listed as a machinist at Goodyear Tire and he was 28 years old at the time of his daughter's birth. Unfortunately it didn't give his exact birthdate, but at least it fixed the year as either 1953 or 1954. John Walker had been born in Ohio, but no city was listed. House grumbled about crappy birth certificates.

Her dad had disappeared when Issy was 8 and it was during the school year because she had said specifically that she had come home from school and he was gone. House decided to allow for some leeway as perhaps it had happened right before she turned eight. And since she turned eight in May of 1990, his disappearance could have been 1990 or 1991.

The list of facts that he had written on the scrap of paper was pathetically small. John William Walker, born in Ohio, in 1953 or '54, worked as a machinist at Goodyear Tire and disappeared in 1990 or '91 on a school day and was never heard from again.

He reached into the milk crate for her copy of 'The Phantom Tollbooth' and removed the photo. House wondered briefly if having a photo from 1986 would help find the man but it was all he had. He thought about running to a photo shop to make a copy, but then remembered that his printer also functioned as a scanner so he took the photo into the living room and scanned it onto his computer. He saved it in a password-protected file and he also e-mailed it to himself. Then he stuck the photo back into the book. He has pulled it out so quickly that he didn't remember the exact spot where it had been and he could only hope that Issy wouldn't notice.

After quickly showering and dressing, House sat on the couch with his cell phone and called a bookie that he knew. His guy knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a P.I. and he gave House the guy's name and number.

Lucas Douglas, P.I. agreed to meet House at a nearby coffee shop. The guy seemed a bit flaky, but he had come recommended by Nicky the Nose, so House decided to hire him. He gave Lucas all the information that he had, which admittedly wasn't much. The P.I. didn't seem concerned with the sparseness of the information; he just named his fee and expenses and said he'd do what he could. When House got back to his office, he e-mailed Lucas the only known photo of John Walker and his daughter.

House decided that he wasn't going to tell Issy what he was doing. He didn't know what he himself would do with the information, if anything turned up. If her Dad was found, should he tell her? Should he take a little trip and see the guy, let him try to explain his absence and let him know just what his absence had done to his daughter? House didn't know what he would do if John Walker was found, but he decided to put that decision off until later.

HOUSEMDHOUSEMDHOUSEMD

He had no patient so he sent the team off to the ER to scan the charts for something interesting, while he powered up his computer. He had slept his way through his med school psych classes, believing most of that to be hooey, but after hearing her story, he wanted to learn more about what the 'experts' had to say about the effects of long-term child sexual abuse. What had all those years of abuse done to her? He was sickened and angry that some pervert had forced her to perform sexual acts at such a young age, and that her worthless, alcoholic mother had not protected her. Issy the child had had no one to turn to, no one to rescue her from the abuse, finally having to take matters into her own hands by running away. For Issy, living on the streets had been a better life than living in a house with that pervert. His hand curled into a fist. If Lucas ever tracked down her dad, House would make sure that the guy got the full message of just what his abandonment had done to his daughter.

House didn't like that fact that he was the first person that Issy had ever told her secrets to. He wondered what would be the repercussions on their relationship. Would she be turned off to sex now? And how did he feel, knowing that she had been sexually violated at such a young age? Obviously, he knew that she had been with other men before he met her, but this was different. Is that bastard the reason why Issy gave such a great blowjob? Was he the one who taught her how to do that? Did he train her to always lick his cock clean after sex? House shook his head in anger. Could he even have sex with her again without those images popping into his brain? This was killing his 'girlfriend' fantasy and he wanted that back.

Not that last night had been all about his favorite fantasy. He had vented his anger about his parents on her and he had been an animal to her. Hell, if he was being honest with himself, he had basically raped her. She hadn't wanted sex like that and had tried to dissuade him from taking that particular route for his pleasure. But he was in too much of a state to be dissuaded and had plowed ahead, physically hurting her and setting off an anxiety attack. Even after treating her so badly, she was afraid that revealing her past to him would cause him to end their arrangement. He shook his head; could anyone have lower self-esteem than that?

He spent the rest of the morning on his computer, searching for and reading articles on the psychological effect of long-term childhood sexual abuse. While a lot of it was psychological mumbo-jumbo, he also found some grains of truth.

Article after article described intrusive symptoms like flashbacks, nightmares, exaggerated startle responses and bothersome intrusive thoughts. Now that House knew what had happened to her in the bathtub, it made sense that she was extremely jumpy if he walked in on her in the shower. Some victims reenacted situations reminiscent of the trauma, seemingly in a feeble attempt to 'control' the event. Sex workers had a high incident of childhood sexual abuse. Were they reenacting their abuse over and over again? Was that what Issy had been doing or was she just trying to survive the only way she could? She had had a traumatic exposure to sexual behavior at such a young age, yet she seemed to enjoy sex with him. He knew she wasn't faking her orgasms. How was she able to get past the abuse and enjoy sex as much as she did?

Articles also described numbing responses to abuse like emotional constriction, social isolation, retreat from family obligations and a sense of estrangement. He recognized some of those symptoms in Issy's behavior, she had no friends, certainly she was socially isolated and removed from any family obligations, but more disturbingly, House recognized some of those symptoms in himself. Were these characteristics his response to his own childhood physical abuse? He shoved those thoughts back into their box and locked the lid. This was not the time to focus on his issues; he needed to deal with Issy.

Random sentences and phrases got stuck in his brain. 'Home is no longer a place of safety and refuge, but a site of high stress'. Great. Did that mean that she'd no longer feel safe living with him, constantly wondering if he was ever going to snap again? Another article mentioned: 'Victims never know when the abuse will happen again, what the abuse will entail, or what will happen if others find out. There is inappropriate guilt over the feeling of responsibility about what happened'.

House knew that Issy blamed herself for what had happened. She had been a lonely child in need of love and affection after her father left, and that bastard had swooped right in. From what he could read, this was a common pattern with pedophiles. Find a lonely child; bribe her with gifts and small tokens of affection that slowly become more and more sexual. House knew from Issy's comments and body language that she felt intensely guilty over what had happened. She kept saying that she was stupid because she had allowed it to happen. House knew she was far from stupid; she was actually pretty damn smart, but even a smart child is sexually innocent and no match for a devious perverted adult.

House had to admit to himself that he really admired her. She had literally dragged herself out of the gutter and aspired to be something more. Granted, being a nurse wasn't the best job in the world, but it was a helluva lot better than being a sex worker. She had a lot of guts. He knew that many sex workers ended up as drug addicts and alcoholics; Issy had managed to avoid that trap. She drank some, sure, but she definitely was not an alcoholic and she claimed that she'd never done any illegal drug stronger than pot. To her, a book was a much better escape than any type of drug.

He glanced at his watch; it was almost lunchtime. Today he didn't feel like mooching off of Wilson who would probably want to rehash the events of last night's dinner. He'd probably pick up on House's mood and ask endless questions. House didn't want to be psychoanalyzed, not today, not ever. He wandered out to the balcony and looked down. There she was, sitting alone on the middle bench, eating her peanut butter sandwich, as usual. Issy had isolated herself from her classmates too, desperately afraid that they would find out her secret. He tried to scrutinize the look on her face, but she was too far away to see the details that he needed. He wondered how she would be when he got home. Would she stutter, a physical manifestation of her anxiety? Would her hands tremble, or would she manage to stuff her feelings down inside of her and try to carry on as if nothing had happened, in the hopes that he would allow her to stay?

He didn't want her to move out. He wanted to go back in time, before his parents showed up. He wanted a re-do for yesterday, but that was not possible. Should he just act like nothing happened? Carry on as normal? He watched her stuff her sandwich wrappings back into her bag and walk back to the hospital's entrance. Were her shoulders slumped more than usual? He wasn't sure from this angle. He desperately tried not to care, reminding himself that this was just a business arrangement. Sure he had hurt her; but now that he knew her past, he wouldn't do anything like that again. He didn't really like anal sex anyway; he had just wanted to hurt something and she had been the closest target. He would have more self-control in the future, and also do everything in his power to keep his parents out of New Jersey.

He wondered if he should talk to someone with more knowledge on this subject. The problem with that idea was that he was universally disliked by most of the hospital's psychiatric staff, having had run-ins with most of them. He doubted that any of them would speak with him on this matter. The only one who was possibly approachable was currently stationed at the South Pole, running a psychological study on how people deal with long-term isolation. If worse came to worse, he'd find a way to contact her. In the meantime, he'd play it by ear when he got home. If Issy was OK with carrying on like nothing had happened, so was he.

HOUSEMDHOUSEMDHOUSEMD

Cuddy cornered him in the early afternoon and marched him down to the clinic. Since he needed to complete his clinic duty for the week anyway, he figured that this might be a good way to get his mind off of the articles that he had been reading. He signed in and Nurse Brenda handed him two charts, directing him to Exam Room Four. He grabbed a handful of lollipops and shoved them in his pocket as he headed towards the door.

Two charts for one room? Maybe he was getting lucky and behind Door Number Four would be the Barbi twins. Naw, they hadn't been around since the nineties. Wonder if Hefner had a new set of twins living at the Playboy Mansion? When he opened the door, he was mildly disappointed to find there were no shapely blonde twenty-year-old twins, not that he really expected it. Instead he found two pre-teens and an older woman that he assumed was their Mom. The older girl was playing with her Gameboy while the younger girl had her nose in a book. To House's horror, he saw the title was 'The Phantom Tollbooth'.

He hooked the rolling stool with his cane and pulled it to him. Dropping onto it, he said: "I'm Dr. House."

Before he could say anything more, the Mom jumped in. "I think my girls have mono."

The older girl rolled her eyes but kept playing. "Mom, I told you. I don't have mono. I haven't kissed anybody. You get that by kissing someone with it."

House smirked. Ah, the wisdom of youth. "Well, that's not the only way you can get it, but thanks for ruling that out for me."

He quickly reviewed the charts and then addressed the mom: "Both girls have the same complaints? Headache, cough, slight fever?"

As if on cue, the younger girl coughed. She covered her face with the book which House was glad to see was not a library book. The germs would not be spread to the next patron.

Mom nodded. "Yes, Emily's been complaining about a headache for two days. I gave her some Tylenol, but it didn't seem to do help that much. She said she felt worse this morning so I took her temperature and it was 100. Amanda's was 100.5, so I thought I'd better bring them in."

"Amanda didn't complain of a headache?"

"Amanda never complains. She's just been coughing, but when I asked her, she confirmed having a headache for two days."

The younger girl was completely absorbed into her book, ignoring the conversation flowing around her.

House gently tapped the back of the book with his cane. "Come over here, kid. Hop up on the table."

The child carefully marked her place, set the book down and climbed up on the exam table.

"You have a headache?"

She nodded.

"Tilt your head forward, like you are going to touch your chin to your chest."

She did as he asked.

"Does that make the headache worse?"

She finally spoke. "A little bit."

"Look up at me."

The child had brown curly hair and big blue eyes. Her appearance, combined with the book she was reading, made him think of Issy. The chart said this kid was ten. That's how old Issy had been when Chester the Molester started on her. He gave his head a slight shake to refocus on his patient. When he pressed on her sinuses, the child confirmed that they felt sore. He pulled out an otoscope and looked in the child's ears and up her nose.

"Does your throat feel sore?"

"A little."

He placed a tongue depressor in her mouth. "Say AH for me."

"AHHHHH."

"Bigger."

"AHHHHHHHHHHH."

"Good."

He felt the lymph nodes in her neck and then he pulled out his stethoscope. As he held the bell against his hand to warm it, he said: "I need you to take off your sweater so I can listen to your chest."

The child pulled the sweater off over her head and tossed it to her Mom. Underneath she was wearing just a thin undershirt, thin enough that he didn't need to ask her to remove that too. As he moved the stethoscope around on her chest and asked her to take deep breaths, he couldn't help noticing her lack of physical development. Not that he expected any, since she was only ten, but again he thought of Issy. She had been the age of this child when her stepfather started touching her. There was not anything remotely sexual about this child because she was a child. His anger surged again, and he had to force it down.

"OK, you can put your sweater back on while I get the thermometer."

He waited while the Mom helped her with her sweater and then stuck the thermometer into her mouth. When it beeped, he pulled it out.

"Her temp's 100. Her nasal membranes are red and there is a yellowish discharge. The post-nasal drip is causing the cough and the sinus pressure is causing the headache. Her throat is a little red, but not too bad. It's not mono; she has a sinus infection. I'll examine your older daughter, but she most likely has the same thing. Ten days of antibiotics will get rid of it. Are your girls allergic to anything?"

Mom stated that they had no allergies and House motioned for the younger girl to get down.

"Hey, gamer, your turn for the table."

The older girl put the game on pause and climbed up on the table. House noted that the younger girl immediately picked up her book and started reading again. He gave her sister the identical exam. The one difference was when House asked her to take off her thick sweater. The girl looked at her Mom and whined: "Do I have to?"

She shrugged: "The doctor needs to listen to your chest."

"But I'm not wearing a shirt underneath, only my bra!"

The last word was said in a stage whisper and the Mom looked helplessly at House. He rolled his eyes and walked over to the cabinet. He retrieved a gown and tossed it to the child. "Take off your sweater and put this on, the opening to the back. Let me know when you're ready."

He turned his back on her and tried to think of something other than what Issy had told him last night. He needed to get out of this room and away from these two pre-pubescent girls.

"Ready!"

He turned around and hastened to listen to her chest. The gown was thin enough in the front for him to listen over it. She may have been wearing a bra, but she barely needed it. Through the thin fabric of the gown, he could tell that she was just starting to bud. Christ! She's twelve. Issy was getting raped at this age.

Again he had to force his anger down. He quickly completed the exam and instructed her to dress while he turned his back and filled out the prescriptions. Once the child was dressed and playing her game again, House turned back around. He handed the Mom prescriptions for Augmentin and instructions to take the antibiotics for ten days. He also told her to give the girls Sudafed for the congestion and guaifenesin to help break up the mucus. He warned her that if they weren't showing significant signs of improvement after five days to bring them back, as it might be a sign that they needed a stronger antibiotic. He offered the girls a lollipop, but only the younger girl took one. The Mom thanked House profusely and hustled the girls out of the room.

Seeing those young girls had disturbed House more than he wanted to admit. After a moment's pause to steady his nerves, House limped back to the desk. Tossing the girls' charts on the finished pile, he said to Nurse Brenda: "Gimme another one, only no kids this time."