"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed."
~Carl Jung
Tw: mention of sh, death
Jean
The brunette's eyes wouldn't rip themselves off the fresh cuts at first and next the scars. After a moment of playing deer in the headlights, I finally pulled down my sweater. The fabric now covering the very top of my thighs, I managed to swallow.
"Emily, you have to understand—" I stuttered, the heat flushing my cheeks a vibrant pink and stomach clenching.
Her dark eyes suddenly stared at me from way closer. Hot breath hit my chin, before she pushed me into the lockers behind her. The cold metal earning me to hiss.
"What is that on your leg?" She stared me into the ground and I hoped it would swallow me whole, before I'd break down.
All I saw was that disturbed look on her face. The reaction people have to such things. I didn't blame her. How could I?
"I only do it when— when I can't stop thinking. When it's too loud. I promise, please." I whined and realized a single drop of water sliding down my cheek. The shock of both hit me like a truck.
It seemed she realized something, since she suddenly softened at once. Her eyes grew into those mugs of hot chocolate, with foam. The type, you wanted to bathe in. The hands around my wrists loosened completely their tension.
"For how long have you been doing it?" She asked, voice honey and nothing like before.
"Emily, I don't want this." My jaw quivered. "Don't make me." Through a somewhat blurry view, I glimpsed at the woman opposite to me. "I'm begging you, okay? Please. Emily, please." And I shed yet another tear. "Shit." I brushed the back of my hand against my wet cheeks. "I'm sorry." I sniffed.
"Jean, it's okay." Emily frowned. "No need for such a conversation, right now. Just would you let me take a look?" My eyes widened and throat tightened. "I promise, I won't touch or say anything, if you feel uncomfortable with it. I want to know what treatment you need."
"It's nothing to worry about." It was not bad. Nothing bad. I deserved it. I needed it.
"I would like to see that for myself. Either we do this now, or I'll grab your hand and drag you into the next hospital." I sighed in defeat and nodded. "Here." Prentiss guided me to sit down on the bench opposite to us.
I kept pulling down my sweater, though the woman noticed. Of course she did. Emily took off her black blazer jacket and hesitantly placed it on my other thigh. Her eyes only briefly swayed over the scars, yet it was not too uncomfortable.
Then it was time to take my palm off the cuts. She had kneeled down in front of me, one hand placed on my knee to steady herself.
"Make it quick," I mumbled, eyes shifting towards the lockers behind the brunette. From the corners of my eyes, I took in her eyes glaring up at me, asking with just a single look. "You can." I nodded and Emily's warm fingertips skimmed along the area of the fresh wounds.
It did not hurt. No burning, no nothing apart from heat.
"How did you take care of the previous ones?" She asked gently.
"Uhm.." A frown played over my forehead, stunned hence no one had asked me that before. "When I moved in with the last foster families, I bandaged them to protect my clothes and used small strips to keep the deeper ones together."
YOU ARE READING
Guilty Pleasure
Fanfiction[Emily Prentiss x OC] What happens when past comes knocking at your front door? Emily Prentiss has just accepted her promotion to unit chief. To treat herself, it was a bar she had decided to try her luck at. At said bar another woman, Jean Miller...
