You walked in, and went right to work making yourself at home. You set up everything on your desk at your cubical, including a picture of you and your parents. It's gotten easier to look at the pictures without crying. Your therapist helped you channel your emotions into work instead of anger or sobbing. Sure, you still cry every now and then, especially holidays. But it's better than all day every day.
The day they died seems like a blurred dream looking back. You remember hearing their muffled screams from your hiding place in the closet. You remember looking through the cracks and seeing your mother crying helplessly tied to a chair. You saw your father tied up and thrown on the ground with cuts all over him. You heard his cries as the killer slowly tortured him with the kitchen knife your mother was just using to make dinner. You closed your eyes, scared and crying, hiding among the coats in the closet. All you could do was cry helplessly. You heard the gunshots. Two of them. Then the sirens came. Why weren't they just a few seconds earlier? A few minutes could have saved your parents. Saved you. Saved everything. After the event, you went into a downward spiral of depression, anxiety attacks, self-harm, and social anxiety. Social anxiety was far worse than just being a shy kid. You couldn't speak to anyone. Not even your aunt who took you in when your parents died. You couldn't speak. You couldn't look at people. Things were horrible. Things started getting better when your aunt put you into therapy. And things had gotten altogether better now that you're an adult and perusing your dream. You could look at and talk to anyone. You carried your medicine and inhaler in case of anxiety attacks, but you hadn't touched them in months. Life seemed a little brighter.
You quickly tried to push that thought to the back of your mind so you would be well alert on your first day. You pulled out your first file as your boss, Aaron Hotchner, walked out of his office. "Everyone to the round table. We have a case," He announced very authoritatively. Just as you stood and turn to walk up the stairs, you ran into something. Well, someone. Someone much taller than you, but not very big. A boney, almost awkward body structure. Your face looked straight to his chest at the height difference. You raised your head to look into the eyes of this man. But you realized something- you couldn't look him in the eyes. No amount of therapy has prepared you for that moment....
YOU ARE READING
Saving Lives
FanfictionYou joined the BAU expecting to save other people's lives. You never expected that one person would save yours, in more ways than you would imagine.
