Damaged Goods - Emily Prentiss x Reader

know her best

longer chapter again just to fill it with some detail. i always feel guilty when chapters are more to fill the space and give you context for the more eventful chapters, but i promise i have some big stuff planned :)

thanks for all your comments and suggestions on my last chapter - i'll definitely take any feedback forwards with me.

love and need you.
lee x

(4272 words)

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'The bank will have to wait until tomorrow.' Emily told you, checking her watch as you stood in the hallway of her house. Boxes bordered your feet, all of your belongings packed up with nowhere to call home.

'Hannah's going to get suspicious.' You thought out loud.

'Well...' Emily leant her hip against the wall, '...do you think you can pretend everything's fine with her until the bank opens tomorrow morning?'

You took a deep breath, a sense of dread hanging over you as you realised you didn't have a choice.

'Yeah.' You replied, bending down to find some clothes in a box so Emily couldn't see you were tearing up.

'I'll sleep downstairs.' Emily announced, before you abandoned the box to look at her.

'Why?' You asked.

'I just... figured you might want to be alone tonight.' Emily assumed.

You wouldn't have dreamt of asking her, but a little part of you wondered if maybe Emily thought the same as you: that your body was somehow dirty now.

'You don't have to.' You told her, finding yourself delving your hands back into the box beneath you again as if talking to the floor made Emily hearing you so much easier.

'Well, what would you like me to do?' She asked.

You closed your eyes as you exhaled.

'I don't want to be alone.' You admitted, more to yourself than to Emily. Every feeling you were having had started to feel like so much more than a temporary one. You didn't want to be alone tonight, and you didn't want to be alone forever. Both of those things were true now.

'Okay, darling.' Emily said. 'Let's go to bed.'

You pulled a T-shirt and some shorts from the box along with your toothbrush. Emily let you up the stairs first, and as she threw her own clothes onto the bed and started to pull her blazer from her arms, you headed into the en-suite.

To the left of you, one of the bathroom walls was almost entirely a mirror. It sat above a set of wooden-looking cupboards and a toilet. Ahead of you was the shower and to your right was the sink and large window. The room was small but with bright overhead white lights.

You used the toilet and brushed your teeth before pulling your shirt from your arms. You were turning to grab your T-shirt from the sink when you saw it: the big red bruise on your arm. You stared at your skin, your eyes wide despite wanting to look anywhere else but there.

Quickly afterwards, you found yourself pulling your trousers from your legs and checking them too, until your body revealed itself as a mosaic of all the places Hannah had touched you. You found bruises on the back of your shoulders, down the sides of your legs, your waist.

You blinked and found yourself on the floor, pulled into a corner between the sink and the shower. You held your knees to your chest and closed your eyes. You didn't feel like crying. You just wanted to pretend, for one second, that today hadn't happened. That your skin wouldn't turn black and blue by morning, that your body was the one place that belonged to you still.