Evacuated

How They Saved Us

A lot of time had passed, and everyday was the same. May Belle and I truly were alone in this life. We were. Or so we thought. One day had changed absolutely everything, it took us out from the pit where nobody could hear us scream. It took us from the place where nobody could hear us cry. It saved us, when there was no hope left.

The day we met the BAU team, changed our lives for the better. Much better. JJ, or Jennifer Jareau, has a son who's only a year older than May Belle, Henry Lamontagne (I think that's how you spell JJ's husband, Will's last name). Henry and May Belle got a long real well. The things May Belle and I were put through by Jess, ourselves and her family really pushed our innocence to the edge. May Belle became even more knowing towards things like abuse, pain, suffering and things a six-year-old child should never have known at the time. She was stripped from her innocence, happiness and child-like behavior. She was forced to grow up a whole awful lot in order to face what I was facing and be the support system I needed at the time. I wouldn't have survived without May Belle, the way she was. She was faced with the ideas of depression, suicide, overdose, broken relationships, ending friendship examples, heartbreak and terror. She had to address these types of things because they affected her almost as much as they affected me. She told her friend, Alexandra, that I was at Jess and my place, overdosing on counter medicine under the treehouse because I wanted to die, and I wanted to die in the place that was significant to where Jess and I first began. Because I wanted to die where Jess and I were whole, and the only place we hadn't brought our brokenness into and destroyed. And no, I didn't tell her this, she knew. She had to know and if she didn't she had to figure it out. Because if she didn't, I would've been dead. I gave her to a safe place and then left to kill myself off. I fell asleep as planned, but woke up because I hadn't taken enough to kill me. I was new at attempting suicide and I didn't know the dosage to kill a person, so I took a handful and left. And May Belle knew this. She knew the things Jess did to me, she knew the things I did to myself, she knew the things I was feeling and how drastically it had affected me. She knew. And god knows she shouldn't have. And then Henry comes along, this kid who still holds a sense of innocence and childhood. He and May Belle clicked almost as fast as Jess and I did. It wasn't forced, like Jess and I were, by me. They naturally started talking and acted as friends with no question or hesitation at all. They bounded this relationship that was too young and innocent to kill itself off like Jess and mine did. Henry nor May Belle would just randomly stop talking to the other without reason. And if they did, the other would never hesitate to ask what the hell had happened. Because they're too young to think of what could go wrong. And if May Belle ever did such a thing, I'd of smacked her upside the head. And most importantly, Henry brought back a childlike innocence to May Belle. He helped her gain a sense of happiness and worry-free thoughts. He helped her to think more of kids stuff rather than depression and suicidal thoughts. He took her mind away from that and let her be a kid again, the one she was before Jess and I broke. The one who thought of baking cookies, playing with toys and focusing on little kids rather than older kid issues. I feel terrible for stripping that away from her, but I feel even more thankful towards Henry, JJ and Will for letting him bring that back to her. I haven't expressed my gratitude for it, but I should've. Because God knows where May Belle would be right now if Henry hadn't shown her a glimpse of the old life, of childhood games and toys, memories and innocence. Thank you, Henry, you've truly saved her heart.

As for me, I spent my time worrying all the time. I nagged May Belle about eating excessive amounts of cookie dough with Henry after school and their silly little conversations. And Henry re-built that in her, though she still was faced by my brokenness when I cried or beat myself up over what I did wrong or what I didn't do right. But one night, I didn't speak, I couldn't be heard, I was destroying myself inside, eating at the little bits of happiness I had left in me. JJ's best friend, Spencer Reid, who as stated in the previous chapter, is an angel. And that magic did come to life that night. Spencer talked to me a bit before my eyes broke in shock and disbelief when he brought Jess in. I hadn't seen much of Jess for months since before that minute. I couldn't breathe and I felt as if I was choking on thin air. "Leslie?" Jess finally spoke, and that's when I felt my lungs clog up and I wanted to start choking and throw some sort of coughing fit, but I was too stunned to move at all. "You said you wanted to know what you did" Spencer began, "so Jess, tell her." And I almost didn't want to hear it anymore. It was the mystery of my mind, the only question I couldn't answer and I was desperate to figure out something so complex with nothing but the cold shoulder and rude glances. Then the moment came where I could finally have my every question answered, and suddenly I didn't wanna hear it no more. But I couldn't speak, and so Jess went on. "I was scared to talk to you. You've always been so confident and stronger than me, I felt like I wasn't good enough to talk to you. I wanted to but I couldn't do it" he finished. "What?" is all that came to mind. And "bullshit" was written all over May Belle's stern, straight and disapproving face. In the end, Jess and I made up again. We hugged for longer than I can remember and I began to cry and shake, but Jess begged me not to cry. After all this time, we were really together. Sitting, hugging, crying, and inside, dying. But something didn't feel right. It felt like something was missing from it, and that was truth. And more specifically, real. It wasn't real, Jess hadn't come to me from his own free will and that's what burnt my heart and made me feel as if it was an ordinary day.