Tapestry of Scars

The Art of Pain

A/N: Now that Emily's past is officially out in the open, just know that there will be references to sexual assault and suicide. There will not be anything graphic. But just the mention of it can trigger survivors. So I want people to be aware of it.

The last chapter was the heaviest in this whole fic. It eases up a little from here on out. I'm not saying it's going to be a cakewalk in the park, but the previous chapter is as bad as it gets.

I know I say it all the time, but I had some serious reservations about doing this story...and doing it properly. I knew that there was a very real possibility that it would strike a chord, especially for anyone who has ever been through it. Take care of yourselves.

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Chapter 13:

The Art of Pain

Emily's stay in Psych was intense. After years of repressing her pain she had finally hit rock bottom.

The physical aspect was brutal. Not only was she feeling the weight of her psychosis, but her liver values were elevated so she was sick to her stomach. She had told Alison almost everything before she was taken to Psych, but she'd left that out.

Her psychosis was worse than her liver being inflamed. The panic of being strapped down made her psychically sick, because she was seeing things that weren't there...and she couldn't fight back. Every time one of the doctors or nurses touched her, though they were gentle, she saw him and she panicked.

She was constantly sweating through her hospital gown. She threw up several times. She had tremors when she was awake and she thrashed around in bed when she was asleep. She felt like she was dying, and she hated the irony of feeling like death without actually dying.

Her nightmares were so realistic that she couldn't tell when she was awake and when she was asleep. She saw things in the shadows. She saw the faces of the people she'd seen die in battle. She saw the trauma of her childhood.

Then she saw her family. All of them...gone...living on in some eternal afterlife without her. It was like death was taunting her. It's like it was an unobtainable goal.

The worst part of her hallucinations was when she was forced to face the memories of him. She could feel his hands around her neck. She could feel him suffocating her. She couldn't escape. And she couldn't fight back because she was tied down.

She struggled. She cried. She screamed.

The nurses and doctors tried to bring her down from it, but it was no use. She knew they couldn't help her.

The one person she needed was locked out. But that didn't mean she didn't cry out for her. When she wasn't screaming she was calling her name. She begged. She pleaded. Sometimes she hallucinated that she was there with her.

She needed Alison.

She tried to hold on to the kiss they'd shared right before Alison had left her hospital room, but she was so lost in her mind she wasn't sure that had even happened. She wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't.

Minutes felt like hours. Hours felt like days. It got worse when they extended her stay from three days to five days.

When Alison found out she threw a fit. She knew that Emily wasn't doing well, but she also knew that she needed her. Being away from her was hard. All she wanted to do was hold her. She wanted to make sure she was okay, even though she knew she was not okay.

They had to wait another agonizing forty-eight hours before they were able to see each other again. But Alison kept her promise. She was there the second Emily could have visitors.