A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this new chapter up. I need to thank JaeW for all of her hard work on this chapter. She did a lot of rewriting and editing on it. Awesome. And, This chapter contains at least one graphic scene that is possibly triggering. Take extreme care while reading. Enjoy. Apologies again to all who don't wish Cameron to be tortured...

Thud Thud Thud

Cameron's shoes sounded as she hit the treadmill. Sweat poured down her face and onto her jogging outfit. She was dressed in grey sweatpants and a thick black sweatshirt.

"One more mile. I will prove I deserve the perfection. I am strong enough. One more mile. Gotta get it all off gotta run." She thought as she ran.

The song "Fighter" by Christina Augilera filled the air:

"Makes me that much stronger Makes me work a little bit harder Makes me that much wiser So thanks for making me a fighter Made me learn a little bit faster Made my skin a little bit thicker Makes me that much smarter So thanks for making me a fighter"

This song had become her motivation. Whenever she needed to draw extra strength from inside herself, she would put this song on repeat, and run a few miles on her treadmill. This was how she calmed down; it was how she felt in control and at peace. It was her serenity and sanctuary from everything in the real world. This was her escape.

Her escapes hadn't always been this serene growing up.

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Sixteen year old Allison Cameron lie quietly on her bed. Her room was dark and the blinds were close; there were tears at the corners of her eyes. Only two days before, her mother had passed away. It had been a long and painful fight with cancer. Allison remembered sitting with her mother in those last weeks holding her hand and telling her everything would be fine. It was a working routine. Young Allison would come home from school and enter her mother's room. It had always been the same dialogue:

"How was your day Ali?" her mom would ask.

"It was good mom" and allison would launch into details of her day while her mother listened intenly. It had been so nice making her mother feel good again even just for a little while. A thin smile would come accross her mother's face as she tried to not show the pain that was filling her body.

As Allison recalled all the good times tears ran silently down her face. What was she to do now? The whole time that her mother's health was declining, Allison's father had been sinking further and further into the bottle. He had said that he just couldn't take it all; He just didn't have the strength to support a dying wife and a teenage daughter. So it had been Allison driving her mom to and from the hospital and making her comfortable, all the while keeping horrific secrets from her. Allison figured it was the least she could do to make her mother's last days comfortable. Explaining to her all that she was hiding would only hurt her and make her give in to the cancer quicker.

"It was better to keep the secret" Allison tried to convince herself that night while she lied in bed sobbing for the loss of her mother.

Though her mother had just passed, Allison's survival instincts kicked in. If her father continued at the pace he was going of drinking and gambling, they will burn through their savings in under a month. He had no intentions of getting a job or taking care of his daughter. Those things didn't matter to him. All that mattered was drowning the pain that his wife's death had inflicted upon him.

Allison turned out her light that night with the knowladge that the next day she would look for work...someone had to support the family. It was comforting to know she had a plan. Of course they couldn't live off whatever meagre minimum wage job she got, but just maybe it would make it a little easier.

By the clock on her night table, Allison knew it had been 2 hours since she had drifted off to sleep. She had awoken to her father clumsily letting himself into the house.

Huddled under her blankets barely allowing herself to breathe Allison begged God "Please, please. Don't let him find me. Just once, please? Tonight...just let him pass out? Please...do not let him find me."

As she heard her door open and smelled the whiskey on him, Allison knew there was no God. No one was going to save her tonight just like no one had saved her all the other nights. She was on her own.

Her father took a look aroudn the room and called out "Ali? Allison?"

He pulled the covers from her bed and found his young daughter huddled in fear. When he got closer to her, Allison wanted to puke from the stench of his alcohol and cigarettes. on him.

"Control!" her brain screamed, "Control!" Quickly Allison tried to think thought of anything she could do. in this situation. What She knew from previous encounters, such as this was that all she could do, would be to control were her tears. Each time, she chose not to cry. He would not see her weak. He would not get the better of her. Allison stifled a scream as he penetrated her against her will. She continued to control the only thing she could, her body, her tears. In these times, her mind allowed her to slip away. Her mind carried her to places where she was safe. She didn't have to be there being violated in such horrid ways. Inside her mind, she was miles away remembering the good times with her mom. She recalled the trips to the park before her mother fell ill.

Allison lay there with a blank look on her face and a blank feeling in her soul. When he had finished raping her, he shook his withered member, zipped it back into his jeans and wiped his hands on her bed-sheet. He looked as if he had just finished a routine task such as washing the dishes.

"Nice meat on those bones Allison. I always liked my women thick." he said with a sneer as he stumbled out of her room.

Once he was gone, she allowed herself to let the tears flow from her eyes. She felt so dirty, so bad for allowing this to happen.

"You are bad. You are dirty. You're a bad person. Horrible." she thought "Horrible must be punished. This is my fault. I must have led him on. I'm cheap. I'm fat."

She continued to mentally berate herself while she reached underneath her bed for a small wooden box. Opening the box revealed a stack of razor blades, a towel that had a few blood stains on it, and some gauze and bandaids. This was how she paid for the guilt; this was how she controlled what he did to her. Allison took the pain out on her body so that she would look as hideous on the outside as she felt on the inside.

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Allison shook herself from her flashback. She was still running on the treadmill. The read out said she had gone 5 miles. There was a hollow knock at the door. She was familiar with this sound. He had used this same knock when he came to beg her to come back to work. Cameron knew House was out there knocking with his cane. What she didn't know is what he could possibly want from her right now...unless Cuddy had told him why she was sent home.

Cameron grabbed her towel off the treadmill dried her face and turned off her stereo. If she could just hide long enough he would go away. She stood holding her breath for a moment while he knocked again.

"Come on Cameron! I know you're in there. I heard your...music. I know you're home. Let me in?"

Cameron weighed her options. If she let him in he'd command her to eat and threaten to fire her and cause all sorts of problems. If she didn't let him in, he would stand at the door all night banging on it trying to get her to pay attention to him. Either way it was a loss. She opened the door to reveal a rather irritated House.

"You actually let your neighbors hear you playing that crap?" He asked remarking on her music tastes.

"I'm sure you've got worse." She said thinking of his James Blunt collection. "What do you want House?"

"Well, Cuddy told me I had a sick duckling. Being a doctor...I figured I could help"

"You can't. It's just the flu. I should be better tomorow."

"Of course you will." he said stealing a glance at her hands.

Cameron caught his glance and tucked her hands in her sweatshirt pockets. She wouldnt' allow him to see the damage the purging hand done to her hands; she was too strong for him to see that sign of weakness.

"I'll see you tomorow Dr. House" Cameron said as she tried to close the door. Of course, his can was there and she couldn't. "House, what do you want? This time be specific. I'm tired and I need to rest so I can get better."

"I want to cook you dinner. Special chicken soup it'll fix you right up." He stared intently into her eyes searching for a reaction.

"Sorry, but as sick as I am, it'd probably just come right back up."

"You just need to get a little meat on your bones and you won't get so sick so often." He said innocently.

"What did you say?" rage was now evident in her eyes.

"What? I said you need a little meat on your bones." House looked truly confused.

"You son of a bitch! Get the fuck out of my apartment!" she shoved his cane from the door jam and slammed the door in his face.

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House stood in Cameron's hall way utterly mystified. What had set off his female duckling? He was missing more than a few pieces to this puzzle. But, how long would it take him to find them all, and in what condition would she be when he figured it all out?

"Why do I even care so much what happens to her? If Chase was vanishing before my eyes would I offer him chicken soup?" He thought on his drive home "I suppose I would. I need him healthy so I can torture him. But why do I need cameron? She's a damned good immunoligist, that's for sure. So that's it. I just need a healthy immunoligist."

How many more attempts would he have to make to convince himself of that? When he layed down in bed that night the vicodin and the day's events took their toll and he was soon fast asleep.

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