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

-60- I am right here*

TW: Death
         Homophobia
         Anxiety

aaaaand finally, smut again ;)
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Emily's POV

I stand at the open grave and look around.
No one is to be seen, I can make out a few gravestones in the fog around me and the rain is pouring down on me, blurring my vision and burning my eyes.
The roses in my hand are drooping and the thorns are digging so deep into my hands that blood is dripping down my fingers.
But I feel no pain, no sadness, my chest seems empty.

What am I doing here?

The rumble of thunder in the distance underlines the gloomy mood.
I stare at the dark dug hole that stretches out in front of my feet, look down into the endless darkness and ask myself whether it is meant for me.
It is almost as if an unknown force is luring me down, as if that is exactly where I belong.
Then my gaze falls on the gravestone and for the first time I feel a feeling inside me again.

Here rests (Y/N) (Y/L/N)
Because of you.

It hits me like a punch in the stomach.

I sink to my knees and put my hands over my face, while I clearly feel my heart stop beating and break into a thousand pieces.

I want to scream, but no sound comes out, I want to cry, but no tear seems to be left.

There is only this cold, piercing pain inside me and the bitter taste of guilt in my mouth.

I crawl closer to the hole on my knees, want to climb down to her, get her out again and take her place, but two strong hands roughly hold me back.

I look up and see the pastor who tortured me so much in his basement.

He tightens his grip and pulls me up by the shoulders, like a naughty puppy by the neck.

"Get out of here.
She never forgave you.
She will never be able to again. 
Are you happy now, Emily?"

"Emily."

"Emily.."

I jump up and try to breathe, but it's as if my throat is constricted.

Paniced, I sit up straight and try to breathe in, my hands grab my throat as if I could somehow release the blockage.

Sweat breaks out on my forehead and my attempts to breathe become more and more hectic.

Emily, sinner.
Emily, murderer.

The pastor's voice is still blaring in my ears.

Suddenly I feel two arms gently wrapping around my shoulders and a head resting on my shoulder from behind.

"Calm down, Em. I'm here. I'm here."

I hear Y/N's voice, which drowns out the pastor's, and tears immediately come to my eyes.

A quiet whimper leaves my lips as I continue to scratch my neck to finally be able to breathe, but it doesn't work.