I See you, Y/N. (Emily Prentiss X Reader)

-23- let me help you

TW: Mention of torture /Trauma/
suicidality
Wounds Care
Anxiety
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The next morning

Y/N's POV

I slowly open my eyes and blink tiredly, trying to get used to my new surroundings.
After what felt like endless nights in a small, uncomfortable hospital bed, the large bed with the comfortable mattress is a welcome change.
I bury my nose into the sheets and breathe in Emily's scent.
Her detergent, her perfume and her very own smell mix to create an intoxicating scent composition that immediately relaxes me.

Is that what home smells like?

Golden rays of sunlight shine through a gap between the closed curtains and bathe Emily's bedroom in golden light.

Emily's bedroom...or rather our bedroom.

The thought fills my heart with warmth and butterflies dance in my stomach.

Our bedroom.

I let my eyes wander to the side and see Emily sleeping soundly next to me.
Her silver hair is fanned across her pillow and the sun's rays dance on her peaceful expression.
She looks so beautiful that I want to touch her, to make sure I'm not imagining it.

But I don't want to wake her up, so I content myself with looking at her lovingly before swinging my legs out of bed and slowly trying to get up.
My left knee trembles under the strain and then buckles, causing me to fall back onto the mattress.
Frustrated, I lower my head and take another deep breath before trying again.
Then my gaze falls next to the bedside table and I have to smile.
Emily has my crutch ready and there is a Note hanging on the handle with a heart drawn on it.

She is so cute.

I place the note on my bedside table and get up with the help of crutches.

It annoys me that it makes it so much easier. I wish I didn't need this.

I look for a pair of long sweatpants and a loose T-shirt from my hospital bag, then I take one last look at the peacefully sleeping Emily and make my way to the bathroom with a smile playing on my lips.
While she's still catching up on some sleep, I'll try to take a shower.
I'm not sure if it will work, but I know I don't want to ask anyone for help.

She would love to help me, of course.
But I want to be as independent as possible. I want to remind everyone as little as possible that I'm hurting.

I turn on the light and close the door, so as not to wake Emily and then look around the room.

Something is different.

It takes me a moment to realize the difference, but once I do, I feel a warm feeling inside my whole body.

I run my free hand over the sheer shower curtain and tears well up in my eyes.

She changed the shower curtain just for me.

Images of my panic attack in that shower come to mind and the memory of Emily's helpless expression.
Later that Day, I calmly explained to her that it was difficult for me to shower when I couldn't see the whole room. I didn't explain why and she didn't ask.
I still have a hard time taking about the things my mother did to me.
Maybe sometime.