'I don't understand a lot of things. I don't understand why terrible things happen to people who don't deserve it. I don't understand why people thrive off of the pain of others. Sometimes, I wish I could change the world into what it should be. People should be able to sit down and realize that they're happy without power or material things.

We should be able to live comfortably without things that tie us down. These rusted anchors are the reason so many people are unhappy. In fact, that's why I'm not happy. That's all I want, you know. To be happy, I mean.

I want to be able to wake up every morning and just smile because I deserve to. I don't feel like I do, you know? I don't feel like I deserve any of it. The happiness, the contentment; it's too foreign of a subject for me to be able to grasp. People sit there and complain about not having enough money, whilst they get everything handed to them. People sit there and cry about being alone when they're surrounded by others that fall to their knees; they give up their own chance at feeling okay just to make sure you are. I'm one of those people.

I fall to my knees and give up every single shred of possible happiness to make others smile, yet I get nothing in return. I feel like that's not fair. I feel like not being able to smile and be happy the way I am is fair to me. Yet, the only person who even remotely hinders this is me. I hate it.

I hate being ungrateful of all I have. I hate hating myself. It's just not right, not fair to be this miserable. I need someone to sit down and say, 'It's all alright, things will get better.' No one does, though and it sucks.

It sucks so, so much. I just want to be okay, I guess. I don't even really know if there is a possibility that something as theoretical as 'okay' exists. I just kind of wish, you know? I just need to scream, cry, and just. I don't know. I'm so angry, I'm always so, so angry. Why do I have to feel this way? Why do I have to feel this way? Why do things-'

"Remy!"

Blue-green eyes opened out of their reverie to dim sunlight shinning through a dusty, unfamiliar window. Her confusion only held for a fraction of a second. She knew, she was now in her new home in Princeton, New Jersey. Today was the marking of another town, another school, another chance at a new beginning. Her father was calling her, she knew this as well.

She had lost her mother years ago after watching her deteriorate before her eyes. Huntington's was not something easy on the eyes, or the mind for that matter. Why things happened the way they did, she didn't understand. She didn't think she ever would. Squeezing her eyes shut, she let the darkness engulf her for another moment.

Throwing her legs from under the ratty quilt she'd been using for how many years now-? She didn't know, to the floor. Her feet touched the chilly wood of her small room. White walls, white ceiling, a small desk, a dresser, and various boxes littered all along the floor. Her tiny nightstand held a cheap plastic alarm clock that would break soon enough. It was flimsy enough to shatter with a little too much force, probably brought by either her hand or her fathers.

Her morning frustration would probably be the more probable cause. She was a logical girl; it's all she could rely on at this point in her life. She was 17 years old, she had been supporting herself a good 13 of them. Even now, everything led back to her mother. Her father's behavior, even her own was based solely on a past she wished she could escape but she knew she couldn't.

Some things you had to live with and this was one of them. It made her, well… her. Glancing at her alarm, she realized why her dad was screaming for her. It's was 7:27 a.m., and her new school was waiting for her.

"I'm up, Dad!" She called back through the little apartment.

She didn't mind the size, she never had. It was always this way. Little place, smaller mess to clean up when they had to leave again. She was used to it, and so was he. Walking towards her dresser, she picked out comfortable clothes from one of the boxes she had neglected to pick up. Making her way to the bathroom while simultaneously getting her bearings straight, she passed her father who was looking messy as usual.

He had been drunk last night, and the night before, and the night before the last so it didn't surprise her that he looked to disheveled. She showered quickly and brushed her teeth leaving her hair to dry. It would be fine by the time she made it to school, she reasoned with herself. Throwing on black skinny jeans and a loose tan button up she made her way back to her bedroom. Pulling her high top Chuck Taylors on her feet quickly, she grabbed her leather sling over bag and black jacket she made her way towards the front door.

Not even sparing her father a second glance, she walked out of the building. She took a deep breath to mentally prepare herself for the Hell she knew was about to ensue, she walked left towards her new school. It wasn't impossibly far away, 3 miles wasn't too far especially if she chain smoked all the way over. It wasn't a habit she was proud of; it just helped ease the emptiness she couldn't make herself escape. Losing herself in her own thoughts, she looked up a while later and recoiled in surprise.

She was there.

Butting her fourth cigarette of the walk, she proceeded to the doors. Students-her peers- were milling around like mindless ants. It bothered her, to be totally honest. The way people wouldn't mind their surroundings and just do what they pleased, it made her almost scream to them; tell them all to look with actually seeing. Almost running into a student jolted her out of her thoughts. Looking in front of her, she was a head of blonde hair hurriedly run past her, calling what seemed to be an empty apology in her direction. Her piercing eyes followed the figure until she got lost in the crowd.

Vanilla.

That's all she smelled, it was vanilla and what she assumed an expensive perfume. Shaking her head furiously, she walked in the front doors and right into a situation that would indefinitely change her perspective on not only herself, but on everything she believed to be true.

Meeting Gregory House was inevitably the key to the beginning of these events.


Sitting in the administration's office, she was waiting in one of those uncomfortable chairs. Upon entry into the office, she was handed a ticket. She was unlucky number thirteen. She smirked to herself, how fitting. Taking in her surroundings, she noticed people were frantically running around trying to print things out and get to as many students served as possible. It was only a week into the semester so frightened freshman and irritated seniors were trying to get everything in order on their schedules. Her eyes fell upon a head of blonde hair and she found herself craning her neck in order to see what face belonged to it. She was slightly disappointed to find it was just a short boy with absolutely no curved that hopefully didn't smell like vanilla but of cheap cologne. She found herself dumbstruck as to why she was even searching for the girl she had nearly bumped into the morning. Maybe she was hoping for a real apology, maybe she was looking to chew her out for almost running into her. She wasn't really sure and that's what bothered her most. As she was gathering her thoughts, a voiced called out into the dimly lit area.

"Number Thirteen!"

Quickly grabbing her bag, she stood and walked towards the councilor that was beckoning her. An older looking boy with a scruffy face limped out with a mischievous grin on his face. He leered at her and said,

"Have fun in there, Thirteen. She's a real gem. She's totally not anal or anything." He pointed back at the woman who was rubbing her temples in apparent agony of his presence. She rolled her eyes in irritation and let an amused and smirking Remy inside of her rather large office. Looking around, Remy found herself looking at the photos the lined this lady's office. Two kids, a husband, basically, the perfect nuclear family. The photos made everything seem homey and warm, calming almost. Dark reds and browns colored the walls in an interesting smear pattern. Remy's eye caught a degree hanging above her desk.

'Cindy DiBucci, PhD in Psychology,' it read.

She was the schools therapist.

Sitting down in a far more comfortable chair, Remy began to relax a little. It was hard not to in a place like this. It made her feel safe, the walls weren't closing in on her, and it didn't smell like medication or mildew. It was… nice. That was the only thing she could call it, nice. Hearing the door shut she looked up and saw the woman walking toward her. She was in her early forties, she wasn't the most attractive woman in the world, but the kindness that radiated off of her seemed to help her out a lot. Remy knew she would trust this woman eventually. Sitting down in her own chair, the woman pulled up what she guessed to be her file. She fiddled around for a moment longer then turned her attention to Remy.

Smiling sweetly, she addressed Remy directly.

"Hi, I'm Ms. DiBucci. I'll be your academic councilor this year. I'm also the resident guidance councilor as well. If you need any assistance in either of those areas, my door is always open." Nodding slightly, Remy introduced herself.

"I'm Remy. Hadley. I'm Remy Hadley."

Ms. DiBucci gave her a genuine welcoming smile which partially threw Remy off guard. She wasn't used to that. Genuine people, people who cared. They were foreign to her. Printing off Remy's schedule, the councilor gave her not only a map of the school, but her locker number, combination lock, as well as her books. She got a quick once over of her classes, where they were, how the AP level needed to be addressed, SAT prep forms, and other things she didn't care too much about. Finally gathering all of the things she needed to navigate through the jungle that proved to be Princeton-Plainsboro High School. Thanking the woman before her, she headed out of the door but was stopped by someone. Looking up, she found the same boy as before staring at her intently.

"Thirteen," He said somewhat sarcastically. "Let me see your schedule."

Remy looked at him with a bewildered expression on her face. Handing over the document, his eyes scanned it quickly. Handing it back to her slightly crinkled, he motioned for her to follow him.

"It has come to my attention that we share the same classes. So, my little duckling, I'm going to take you under Momma Swan's wing. Come with me." Following him out, still slightly confused as to who he was and why exactly he was limping. He turned to her and grinned.

"I'm House. You can call me House, H-Dog, or Stevie Nicks. Whatever floats your boat, Thirteen." Remy just nodded her head, even more confused than before. He limped ahead of her and she increased her strides to catch up with him.

"Uh… Hi? I'm-"

"I know who you are, you're Thirteen." He cut her off, insistently. She just opted to shrug. He didn't seem like the type you wanted to argue with. He was too much a smart ass for her to even try. It was her first day, after all. She should accept whatever form of help she could get, even if it was from a crazy ass hole that really needed to shave his face and lay off the snarky attitude. He turned to her and gave her another sarcastic grin and let out a content sigh.

"Welcome home, my little duckling!" Pushing open the doors to the main hallway, he stepped in and Thirteen followed. Little did she know, that was the moment that was make all the difference.