Nekozombie, Steven Hanawa, The Second Guest, and who knows how many more. I cannot, will not, leave them behind.

Twilight kept the door closed and locked at all times. Occasionally, a passing guest would see the door to room 236 slam shut she the lavender alicorn darted inside, having returned from a ration run. Those who were able to catch of glimpse of the inside of her room would say that you couldn't even see the floor or walls, as every inch of the room was covered with an ever growing web of papers.
Diagrams, floor plans, spread sheets, and theories, Twilight was analyzing everything that is, was, or ever would be Gregory House. She had documents on every single guest that had ever stayed in the House, as well as a record of all those who escape, and those who died before the House could claim their soul.
Everyday, Twilight looked at the pictured she'd drawn of her friends and read the explanation of who they were. She knew she would see them again one day. She didn't know why she had to read it everyday, but it kept her spirits up.
Night after night of planning. It seems like it will never end. Twilight thought one night as she drew up a map of Gregory House. When she finished, she couldn't help her sense of déjà vu as she looked over the map. Hadn't she made one already? Yes, now she remembered, she made a map with Nekozombie a few Nights ago.
When was the last time she spoke with Nekozombie? She couldn't remember. He was must still be upset about her almost leaving him she though, he'd surely come around when he saw how much work she'd done to get them all out.
By the end of the night, she thought she had it. But after another look over, she saw the flaws in her escape plan. It would get her, Salary Man, and Second Guest out, but no one else. She scrapped it, she needed to make a plan that saved everyone; they would all make it, or none of them would.
Twilight noticed that she was having trouble with time; it seemed that she barely made it out of bed and to the work desk when it was time to go to sleep. She was certain that she'd gone two or three nights at a time without sleep, more than once; though she wasn't certain when. It wasn't anything to worry about, Twilight had never really been able to tell time in Gregory House, so it was no big deal she thought.
Twilight didn't see much of Gregory himself anymore, she'd mapped out his routes and learned how to avoid them some time ago. Whenever she did cross paths with the old rat, he just grinned at her, greeted her politely, and walked away with a chuckle.
At some point, Twilight saw herself in a mirror as she passed and noticed that her flank seemed to have grayed out. She took a closer look and, to her surprise, her cutie mark had taken the shape of a flaming Equestrian flag wrapped around a grave stone. Twilight was frantic at first, but decided that it was a problem for another night, when her escape plan was finished.
One night Twilight finished writing her bio on Judgment Boy Gold when she realized that her writing was completely illegible. She remembered writing clearly and neatly, but there the paper lay, covered with nonsensical chicken scratch symbols.
Twilight didn't let the looks from the other guests bother her. The stares as she passed, filled with pity; as though they thought Twilight had already lost the fight. Lost? Ha! I have not yet begun to fight! Twilight told herself, a wide, cracked grin spreading across her face as she returned to her room.

Many nights later

Gregory led the new guest away from the crazy mare who had warned him to trust none in the House. "I am so sorry about that. She hasn't been herself in quite awhile. She seems to think that she's still fighting the good fight, still battling something, but her fight ended long ago. Pity really," Gregory turned to the guest and grinned, "I wonder how your battle will turn out. Only time will tell." And with that, Gregory left the guest to his own devices, chuckling as he went away.