A break from my House novel...call this one...Interlude 1
In Allison Cameron's dreams, there was a man. A man like a broken shadow who would talk into her ear in sly, deft and wanton tones. His breath would tingle her insides and cause her to clench. He saw that she clenched in the muscles of her chin and neck and he liked it...even though he would tell her to stop it. She didn't remember his name in the dream. Just the impression of warmth, just the feeling of intimacy that brought her so near a thunderous climax, and him never even touching her. Just telling her again and again the same words.
"Stop me. Stop me from talking into your ear. Stop me from keeping you clenched inside. Stop me from taking you."
She couldn't stop him. Could she? She tried stopping him in the hallways. She tried stopping him when he would wind himself into a ball. She tried stopping him when he wanted to walk away. She used words, she used glances, she even grabbed him, but she couldn't stop him. No, she couldn't stop him. She couldn't stop him because she couldn't stop herself. She couldn't stop any of it.
"You're pathetic. You're pathetic Cameron," she heard him say. His face would come into light for only a moment. Sometimes it was Chase's face. Sometimes it was even her face. But on bad nights, it was House's face. Tonight, it was Gregory House's face taunting her in the middle of a bout of sleeplessness bordering on insomnia. Her actions were frozen. His confrontation undeniable. It haunted her. The decision and enigma he was and was not to her. And the only closure she had for such dreams was a pulverizing yawp which would creep up the back of her neck. "NO!" she would scream. "No! I'm not pathetic."
But instead, tonight in her dreams, she tried manipulating the manipulator. It was technique she had read about in one of her medical books in school. You could control your dreams. After all, you were the one producing the dream. It was all very logical and scientific.
And so in the dream she tried turning to face her accusor. As she turned him around in her head, his face was frightened. His eyes sad and wanting for attention. She could see every imperfection in his naked face. And she knew, her accusor was easily dissolved. It would take nothing simpler than a flourish of her hand. The substance of his body was but grains of sand patched together. She blew at the cloud of sand castle that was Gregory House in her dreams. But instead of being blown away, he spoke through the sand..."Cameron, I love you."
And she grabbed for the man who was sand and he fell as dust into her hands. She clawed through the dust whimpering in a devastation.
Cameron woke up crying. How many more nights would go on this way?
Then, she heard a knock at her front door that came off like a few bangs...like a stick being hit against a wall. Her crying disappeared and she knew it would be House bothering her again... and she was glad.
"Stop me. Stop me from talking into your ear. Stop me from keeping you clenched inside. Stop me from taking you."
She couldn't stop him. Could she? She tried stopping him in the hallways. She tried stopping him when he would wind himself into a ball. She tried stopping him when he wanted to walk away. She used words, she used glances, she even grabbed him, but she couldn't stop him. No, she couldn't stop him. She couldn't stop him because she couldn't stop herself. She couldn't stop any of it.
"You're pathetic. You're pathetic Cameron," she heard him say. His face would come into light for only a moment. Sometimes it was Chase's face. Sometimes it was even her face. But on bad nights, it was House's face. Tonight, it was Gregory House's face taunting her in the middle of a bout of sleeplessness bordering on insomnia. Her actions were frozen. His confrontation undeniable. It haunted her. The decision and enigma he was and was not to her. And the only closure she had for such dreams was a pulverizing yawp which would creep up the back of her neck. "NO!" she would scream. "No! I'm not pathetic."
But instead, tonight in her dreams, she tried manipulating the manipulator. It was technique she had read about in one of her medical books in school. You could control your dreams. After all, you were the one producing the dream. It was all very logical and scientific.
And so in the dream she tried turning to face her accusor. As she turned him around in her head, his face was frightened. His eyes sad and wanting for attention. She could see every imperfection in his naked face. And she knew, her accusor was easily dissolved. It would take nothing simpler than a flourish of her hand. The substance of his body was but grains of sand patched together. She blew at the cloud of sand castle that was Gregory House in her dreams. But instead of being blown away, he spoke through the sand..."Cameron, I love you."
And she grabbed for the man who was sand and he fell as dust into her hands. She clawed through the dust whimpering in a devastation.
Cameron woke up crying. How many more nights would go on this way?
Then, she heard a knock at her front door that came off like a few bangs...like a stick being hit against a wall. Her crying disappeared and she knew it would be House bothering her again... and she was glad.