-9-
Alone in the hallway lobby, Christine sat and tried to calm herself. She never thought she would see her best friend die, not at that moment. She could no longer take the pain of looking through the glass to see Amy get a needle with a pain killer in it, so she quickly went downstairs to the lobby. She was fortunate that no one was around, since she looked horrible with her red face and tearful eyes. She had her face buried in her face, trying to wake up from the nightmare she thought she was in.
Christine heard a pair of clicks and another pair of normal footsteps come towards her. She looked up and saw that it was House and Cuddy; she quickly turned her face away from them, not wanting to be with anyone. "Please, don't say anything to me." She muttered to the two doctors.
Cuddy stopped where she was, but House limped until he was inches away from Chrisitne. There was silence between the three in the barren lobby, making the atmosphere feel different than ever (Cuddy didn't know Christine well, so she was just there with House). "Everyone has gone through with a friend or a loved one dying." House said, trying to assure him, which was a shock for Cuddy to hear.
"Like I've never heard that before." Christine sighed, turning her head away from them.
"So we know that it's hard to close someone so close." Cuddy said, trying to help House.
"Don't even bother trying. I've lost enough people, I don't want to hear the typical, sympathetical words that I have heard for many years." Christine replied with annoyance. She then got up, still not looking at them, and started walking out of the hospital. "And don't worry. I can walk to my apartment." She said, knowing that House would say something about how she was going to get back to her home.
Before Christine could place her hand on the door, she felt someone grab her arm. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that it was House who had stopped her. She gulped, holding back tears.
"Amy was your sister." House said to her.
Christine's eyes grew slightly, turning to face him, his hand still having a good grip on her arm. She looked up at him with confusion, somewhat doubting what he had said. "B-But, how could-"
"I took a DNA sample from a strand of your hair, and her's." House muttered to her, not wanting Cuddy to know what he had done. He looked Christine in the eyes and continued, "She was adopted. Who knows how long ago, but obviously it was a time when you couldn't remember."
Now discovering something about who she thought was her friend, she felt more upset; she felt empty inside, and she didn't want to deal with anything else. She looked at House back, before pulling her arm away, and walking out of the hospital.
As she walked in the dark cloudy atmosphere, she looked around her surroundings and saw no one; usually she would see people out and about shopping, talking to one another, or other things. Even in her darkest hour, everywhere she looked, she was alone; this feeling was very uncomfortable for her, even though she had experienced her parents dying.
It felt like forever when Christine was soon back at the apartment. She heard thunder and looked up to see dark clouds coming into the Princeton area. She felt something land on her forehead. Realizing that it was rain, she started walking towards the door of the building. As she got in, she saw it down-pouring.
Christine got into her apartment room and saw Rose, who was sitting on the eating table. She walked over to her kitten, and pet her softly from her head and down to her back. She did that for a bit, but then walked away and went into her bathroom.
She looked in the mirror, seeing her face all red and wet. Her eyes were just like earlier, only worse. She hoped she would never go through this kind of pain for a long time, after her parents' death.
Christine had remembered that day, when she was called by her doctor and was informed of her parents being taken to Hospice. Unfortunately, she was not there in time for her to say a last goodbye to her loving parents, for they were suffering from cancer. Her father was a smoker, so he was diagnosted with lung cancer, while her mom had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Christine would never forget that day.
She sighed and suddenly sat on her bathroom floor, leaning her back against the small wall between her bathtub and her toilet. Being alone, she was able to let out a tearful sob. She buried her face in her knees, which had been wrapped by her arms.
It had been over 24 hours since the last time Christine ate. She soon felt light-headed and didn't feel too well. She gulped, yet she knew she wasn't going to be concious for long; she got up slowly and went to her sink, turned the fosset on, and splashed some cold water on her face. Not only was she feeling mental pain, but now possibly physical.
This has not turned into a good day for poor Christine Palmer.
It was nine in the evening and House was walking out of the hospital. He had this feeling inside him that he hadn't felt in a long time; worry. He kept on thinking about Christine and how she felt when her sister died. He wasn't sure of what Christine's whole life-story was, but he knew that today had petrified her.
As House was thinking of all this, Wilson saw him walking towards the exit, so he got up and followed his good friend. "House. You haven't harrassed me at all today, nor did you bother to see Cuddy and make perverted jokes at her."
"Your point being?" House questioned, opening the door out of the building and walked out into the cold night.
"Is… everything alright with you? I know what happened to Christine earlier, and I-" Wilson stopped in his path, realizing what was going on with House. House didn't hear footsteps behind him and turned to see Wilson in his state of mind. Wilson looked at House with an expression that he always had when he figured out something. "You're worried about her, aren't you?"
House raised an eyebrow at him. "No, I'm worried about my vicodin getting stolen." He said sarcastically. He then remembered that he hadn't taken any in a couple hours, so he went through his jacket to grab it, but his expression changed completely. He remembered leaving his bottle of pain killers in his jacket, but as he searched both pockets, they were empty; someone took his vicodin.
