The True Story of Emily Lockwood / g. karim

𝔼𝕏𝕋ℝ𝔸: episode one

A request, from the wonderful @crxy24 <33 thank you for reading! 

 Prompt: "Maybe a fluff scene, George notices how shaken she is after the possession so he pulls her into his room to talk"

❀

"Honey, hold me" ~ Morningsiders (this song reminds me of them)

"Emily," someone called the girl's name distantly. The girl realized the was sitting on the staircase leading up to the attic. She couldn't really remember how she'd come to be sitting - the last thing she remembered was treading from the kitchen sleepily, still reeling from the events of that night. 

Sometimes, she hated her gift. 

Like being rolled by a rogue ocean wave, held under until you finally though you were going to come up for air - only to be rolled again by another rush. It was dizzying in the worst of ways, not like getting kiss-drunk or laughing until your lungs hurt. 

No, this was so much worse. 

"Emily," the voice said again, much closer. She opened her eyes, and everything came back into focus. George was kneeling on the ground in front of her, one of his hands on her knee. "are you okay?" 

She pulled on a smile, stretching her muscles in her face away from the slack frown they were in previously. The worried crease in George's forehead only got deeper as she tried to form some semblance of joy on her features. 

"Just peachy," she managed to say, and she pushed her hair out of her face, behind her ears. 

"You're lying," he said, looking very unimpressed. Emily sighed, and stood - somewhat shakily. 

"I'm doing my best, alright?" she said, wincing at how rude her voice sounded. She knew deep down, that she shouldn't treat someone she cared for like that. Just because her mind was muddled and felt like a fever dream, didn't mean she had to take it out on poor Georgie. 

"Let me help you," he offered, but Emily began up the stairs towards the attic, hesitating in front of the locked door. 

"It's fine, George," she said distractedly, a hand lingering on the smooth wooden doorframe. Images in high colors flooded her senses and her mind, Lucy grabbing Anthony, everyone's panic, the small warmth that spread from Anthony's heart, and Annabel's rage. 

It was all very tiring. 

Suddenly, George was grabbing her hand, shaking her from her trancelike state, and the images disappeared, leaving her mind blissfully empty. 

"Come on," he coaxed gently, and she finally let him. Her throat burned as he held her so gently, helping her down the stairs and past his door - into her former room. 

In the back of her mind, she smiled at the the sign that hung there - bearing George's name in his familiar, scrawling handwriting. It was such a small, mundane, detail, but she adored it. 

"Let's just take a moment," he said, closing the door behind him - although she saw he left it a ajar by a few inches. It was then, she realized, he was leaving it open so she felt like she could leave whenever she wanted. He was giving her a way out, but she knew she wouldn't take it. 

If she were alone in her room, she'd be dealing with it alone - and slowly losing herself to the grips of her ability. She flushed with shame, thinking of how weakly she handled herself. 

"I'm sorry," she choked out, sitting on his bed and burying her face into her slender hands. The mattress sagged beside her, and he took a deep breath.