take me to church (emily prentiss)

3. thirteen

AN: hey guys!

so happy chapter today for the girls! they deserve it before the shitstorm that's coming for them

i hope you all have a good week ahead! see you next monday <3

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"what about the plans we made?" - tv, billie eilish 

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Liv sat on a bench outside the hospital early the next morning, phone in one hand and cigarette in another. She was waiting for Emily to pick her up, which they'd confirmed over text, because Emily wasn't going in until nine today, in three hours, and would hopefully be home just after five.

Liv wasn't in work until tomorrow morning on the twelfth, now, so, she could spend the night with Emily.

Delilah was spending the day in work. Liv hadn't text her. She figured she'd call her once she'd slept, when she could hold onto her emotions again, so she could emotionally support Delilah. But, if she was honest, she didn't really want to call Delilah.

As soon as Liv heard Delilah's voice, she would break down again.

Liv didn't blame Delilah for any of this, but there was some tiny part of her brain telling her that Delilah was the one who even found out about Ziggy. Maybe they would've been better off if Delilah minded her own business.

And then Liv felt sick to her stomach with the next drag of her cigarette, because how could she blame Delilah for this? She hadn't meant to find Eli's secret family. If there was anyone to blame here, it was Eli.

But Eli was dead, and Delilah wasn't. It was easier to be angry with a living person than a dead one, even if that anger was irrational. It was easier when that living person was an emotional void and was reminding Liv of a childhood spent cowering in fear from her stepfather's silent rage, and his not so silent rage. Her sister was her father's daughter, but Liv was her father's daughter, too. They'd both inherited the same anger from them, the same suffering coursing through their veins from their mother.

They were as bad as each other. They couldn't break the cycle. They'd failed with Ziggy.

Liv's dreams were being torn apart.

Sure, she'd only known about Ziggy for a little while, but she'd had ideas in her head about how it would be.

They'd find a house for them, for them and Delilah, and Emily if she wanted to come, and it would be near the apartment in case Delilah didn't want to come with them. Ziggy could pick his room, and Liv would decorate it however he wanted.

They'd buy a table to have breakfast together, and she found a school for him right near the hospital to make things easier for them. There were football teams and hockey teams in the area, if he wanted to try that, and she'd found a few other activities he might be into, like music lessons or art lessons.

They'd have a good time together, would have movie nights with Jace and Zara. She'd teach him and Emily how to cook, and she'd teach him how to suture and read psychology because they were good skills to have, and she'd teach him how to drive a car while laughing at Emily wearing all the seatbelts in the backseat.

Of course, none of that was going to happen, now.

Liv huffed, flicking the butt of her cigarette in the trash and grabbing another, lighting it up and taking a deep drag.

She wished it was a joint. Maybe she'd be able to feel less like she was going to get flung off the side of the world.

Was this how Delilah felt all the time? This intense wave of anxiety over every problem crushing down on her?