Thinking of the misuse of ice wine bottles

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?

Robert Burns

Yes!
By all means!
It should.
At least some of them.

Old acquaintances who live in noble houses with English lawn and well-kept front gardens.
Old acquaintances who wear expensive suits, shiny shoes and sugary nice smiles.
Old acquaintances who pretended to be nice for such a long time until they had you exactly where they wanted you to be.
Old acquaintances who puzzle your parents 'cause you suddenly scream your soul out when you meet them.

You never expect such people to live in your neighborhood. Next to your own house, inviting you for lemonade and tea and biding for the perfect moment.
Not in Belgravia.
Not in these noble and decent streets.
Not in this perfect little universe.
But then most people don't expect such felons and perverts in their own families - and that's where this whole crap happens mostly.
Okay, not in my case.
I lived in London - Belgravia - with my parents when I was five or six years old.

Yes, you got that right, I lived in England. My father served as a Marine Corps pilot, and moved bases during much of my childhood. This earned me my affinity for languages, I think, and my interest for archeology and treasure-hunting.
But I run off the topic.
Well...do I want to write about this?
I'm not quite sure. Maybe I just want to run off the topic.
But I always finish what I started, so why not now?

Okay. Well, we lived in London.
I was about five or six years old as I already told you. And believe me or not, my mother told me I was a really sweet child although I already had the tendency to alienate people.
Our neighbor was a certain Adrian Mole, in his early thirties, really nice as it seemed, educated, wearing said expensive suits and shiny shoes, friendly and helpful. He had a bunch of interesting books and stories to tell as he travelled the whole world being a photographer and author. Perfect for a nosy little boy eager for knowledge.
My parents were quite thankful that I was able to spend so many afternoons in the man's sitting-room when they did not have the time to care for me.
Mr. Mole was from Australia, blonde, blue-green eyed and could have been Chase's twin brother. And I always liked to be with him until one day around Christmas.
My parents were busy preparing the holidays, buying gifts and so on and asked Mr. Mole if he could take care of me for a few hours.
Of course he could.
And he did.
After that very afternoon I was scared to death when I saw him and screamed my soul out when he came near me. My parents were unable to make head or tail of my behavior, Mr. Mole kept up his sugary smile and I didn't say a word.
I soon chose to forget about what he did to me, that he made me do things I hated, hit me with his belt and hurt me, and we moved to India a few weeks later.

I buried all that somewhere in the back of my head and that's where Chase dug it out that evening at Hemingway's when he was totally drunk and told me about the things he wanted to do with me. (Yes, I know he didn't mean business, but he dug it out nevertheless.) Things that would have rung in an interesting evening if it would have been James who uttered them.
But it was Chase who did.
Chase from Australia.
Chase with his accent.
Chase with his blonde hair.
Chase with his blue-green eyes.
Chase who could have been Mole's twin.
Chase who followed me up the stairs, grabbed my cane and told me I wasn't to escape him that easily.
And that's what made it. I felt the same fear, disgust, anger and helplessness like so many years ago.

I didn't really remember what happened at Belgravia but from that evening on I have to admit I was scared of Chase and unable to behave normally when he was near me.
He was used to having a hard time, but that was different and I really should apologize to him some day.

It was Friday, I think...yes, it was Friday. Cuddy compelled me to clinic duty and it was around 3 pm.
An old man who broke his arm was waiting in exam room 5. I didn't really look at him and examined his arm when he spoke to me.
"Gregory House..that name sounds familiar."
An Australian accent. Maybe a relative of Chase?
"Does it?", I mumbled disinterested and began to treat his arm.
"Yes", the man insisted. "Did you live in London as a child?"
I froze and looked up into blue-green eyes. This could have been Chase as an old man and I felt a shiver run down my spine. I felt paralyzed and couldn't tell why for some seconds.
He slowly nodded. "It's you. I recognize your eyes."
He then pointed at my cane. "What a pity I'm not a bit younger. It wouldn't be easy for you to escape me."
Now I knew.
Everything was there again - before my inner eye.
The memories rushed over me like a tsunami, I stumbled to my feet, limped out of the room as fast as I could and fled from clinic.

I nearly ran into James on my way out and just came to a stop when I heard his "HEY!" and he grabbed my arm.
I blinked and recognized him. "Oh...James. I..I didn't see you."
He raised an eyebrow. "What am I? Some kind of ghost?"
Foreman was at his side and looked at me with a puzzled expression. I must have been an odd sight.
I didn't reply and just said "Let's get outta here!" and hobbled on making my way to my office. Jim and Foreman followed me.
"So you are ready?"
I nodded disregarding th fact I still had one hour of clinic duty left. "Outta here!", I repeated and took my coat and my bag.
"Are you on the lam?!", Jim asked and raised his hands.
I didn't reply to that, too, and headed for the car park. "Get your things and let's leave here!"
Foreman and Jim shrugged, got their things (Foreman was invited to spend the evening with us as he was alone this Friday night - Chase was out with Dr. Marks) and followed me.
I was monosyllabic and must have behaved fairly odd. I was asked several times what was up and why I was shivering. James even thought I was on detox...

Hours later I told them. And they could guess what Mole did to me when I was a child 'cause I said I whished to shove my cracked and splinted cane deep into his ass "to make him feel what he did to me".
James was shivering with anger, fury and disbelief and suddenly said "Well...why not?"
Foreman nodded eagerly. "Yes! Why not?!"
I gawked at them. They'd accompany me when I wished to do such things?
They would!
Believe me - it was weird, odd and...unbelievable. We prepared with black clothes and I decided to use a broken ice wine bottle instead of my broken cane.
Well...and we spotted some very interesting things in Foreman's trunk...
We really made our way to the place Mole spent his holidays here and I began to feel undecicive.
I was so close to payback but suddenly knew I couldn't do that. I didn't want to get Jim and Foreman into trouble and I was sure I really couldn't do that.
Yes, he did horrible things to me.
Yes, he hurt me and yes, he spoilt me somehow.
But I wouldn't be an inch better if I now shoved a broken bottle into his ass and he died.
Both of them were relieved when I told them and I still don't know how to ever thank them for accompanying me.
And now I met him again, remembered the whole crap...I somehow feel better.
And I'm not scared of Chase anymore.

Sorry, Chase.
And sorry, Jim and Foreman for this weird and spoilt evening.