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He thought that he'd gotten rid of her.
The countless weeks of torture, trying every method imaginable to get that woman out of his head only for her to reappear for another round of 'fun'. She was like a bad omen, creeping up on him whenever he least expected it and driving him crazy with fear and confusion until he managed to get her to vanish again. He would never tell anyone that he was scared, infact on the outside it would've looked like he was rather annoyed, but the knowledge that he was finally losing it filled him with a unique sense of dread.
"You know, no one would miss you if you killed yourself." A soft voice whispered into his ear, breath warm on his face. He froze, clutching the arm of his chair so hard his knuckles turned white.
"At least, that's what you tell yourself isn't it?" She teased, backing away from him. House didn't want to look at her, though he could sense every movement she made. He huffed, rolling his eyes at the ghostly figure in mock annoyance.
"You know you wouldn't kill yourself. You're too afraid." Hands came to rest on his shoulders, fingernails digging into the flesh so hard it would've probably bled had she been real. House grimaced, shrugging her off with a noise of discontent.
"You're not real." He scowled, biting the inside of his cheek. The fake Amber merely laughed, her wheezing jeers sounding much akin to a death rattle. God, he needed to sleep.
Laying back on his chair, propping his legs up on his desk and closing his eyes, he attempted to rest. For a moment, the room fell into a blissful silence. House sighed, sinking further into the thin cushion of his chair.
He felt ghostly fingers card through his hair, getting caught in the tangled mess of curls before violently tugging on his scalp. This was going to be a long night.