As It Was [Emily Prentiss]

Three

Unknown

I was vaguely aware of someone in the distance. Their shrill banshee screams piercing the darkness that held me, ripping through my skull like a drill, pulling me out of the quiet that cradled me like a child in its arms. My eyes were open, but unseeing, like coming out of a thick fog.

As my vision began to unfurl like a blossom opening its petals for the first time, I became aware that the banshee was me. There were people yelling over me, words I couldn't comprehend being shouted as people came and went from my view. I tried to claw at the obscured faces to escape. I felt an odd warm, whoosh sensation in my veins, and it flooded my body, and I felt my muscles relax. The angel stood over me, his fingers wrapped around my wrists, gentle now that I'd calmed down. His eyes were dark and honest. I watched his mouth move while he repeated himself over and over again, like a mantra.

You're safe, baby girl. You are safe.

There was a sudden movement at my side and I tried to look, to turn my head, but could only see white walls; the fluorescent bulbs above me were too bright. I could smell the antiseptic. Something clattered, jarring me and my anxiety skyrocketed once more. My vision began to narrow once again, darkness pressing in on me. I was gasping, terror seizing me in its grasp. Suddenly, the angel was back in view, his eyes focused on me.

Don't look over there. Focus on me. Focus on my words. You're safe, Rita.

I felt myself echoing his words back like a question, at first, and then like a prayer as he continued to whisper it with me, nodding his head with a soft, encouraging smile. That's right. You're safe now. You're safe.

His face was the last thing I saw before my eyes, heavy and wet, closed and sleep fell over me once again.

*~*

June 15th, 1991

It had been exactly three years since I'd learned of Emily's abrupt departure. Despite putting one foot in front of the other every day since, I hadn't fully recovered from her absence. I did my best to move on, to forget about her, sometimes toeing the line between acceptable and reckless, but at the end of each day, she was still the last thing to cross my mind and possessing my dreams like a demon- a beautiful demon but a demon nonetheless- that I couldn't exorcise, no matter how much alcohol I drank, or who I invited in my bed.

I missed her, but I had no idea how much until I drove into town for the first time since I'd left for college. There was a reason I never came home to visit. I did everything I could to avoid it, but then my father had his stroke, and I knew I couldn't avoid going home anymore. My parents needed me, and, though, they'd never say as much, I knew they needed help. My mother's memory was failing, early on-set dementia, and my father was a prideful man, who simply couldn't do it on his own anymore.

I couldn't tell my parents why I never came to visit, always saying I couldn't get the time off (I was working at a small cafe-slash-bookstore within walking distance of my dorm), because being in my hometown was excruciating; so many places I'd been to with Emily, holding hands where no one could see and sharing kisses when no one was around. We had painted this town together and it hurt to see the familiar landmarks, knowing I'd never have that again. I could almost see us, phantom teenagers in love, walking home from school and stopping in at the local library, sharing kisses in the stacks and picking at each other's choices in literature.