Tapestry of Scars

Hidden Scars

A/N: Hold tight, as we delve deeper you're going to discover that both of these girls are 50 shades of fucked up (then again, aren't we all...to an extent?). Just a reminder: this is AU. You will see as we go forward that I've taken liberties in certain areas.

This has been a tough one to navigate. This material is so difficult to waver with care. There's a balance of trying to be realistic while also remaining respectful. But I know it's triggering and touches a nerve for many, so I appreciate everyone who trusts in my writing enough to go on this journey with me even though it's rooted heavily in dark content. I just wanted to say to anyone who struggles that you're not alone. People care. I care.

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Chapter 4:

Hidden Scars

Alison waited for Emily to come in for her next session. But she never did. It made her feel a sense of failure she'd never felt before. She had royally fucked things up, and she knew it.

As she'd watched Emily walk away from her she'd had a feeling she wouldn't be seeing her again. But what was she supposed to do? Chase her down and tackle her and force her to stay? No. That would be crazy.

Instead she'd resorted to research, a less visual form of stalking. She'd managed to sneak a peek at Emily's medical records to see if she could find any information on where she might have gone. But the address and phone number were blank. Most of her personal information just had a question mark next to it.

However, she did find out that Emily was sicker than she was letting on. She saw the bloodwork with Emily's elevated kidney and liver enzymes. That just made her more determined to find her and help her.

Emily's disappearance worried Alison. She knew the likelihood of her attempting suicide again was high. And the last thing she wanted to do was read something about a soldier OD'ing on the front page of some generic news site.

Alison felt like shit for sleeping with her when she should have been helping her. She didn't know that by having a moment of passion with her, she was helping her. She'd said it herself. Emily was different. Reaching her that day had required skills that education couldn't teach. Emily was layered. Her pain was layered. And her beauty was unprecedented, and in a way, untapped.

She couldn't get the woman out of her head. She dreamed about her. She saw her when she wasn't there. She was obsessed. She'd promised Emily she'd see it through to the end with her.

She knew that some of her obsession was just her way of avoiding her own demons. Repression was the only coping mechanism that helped her deal with her personal problems. One of the first things she'd learned as a Psych major was that a lot of people went into the field to work on their own shit vicariously through others.

Ever since Emily had come into her life she felt like something inside of her had changed. All she wanted to do was see her and talk to her. All she wanted to do was make sure that she was okay. She wanted to hold her hand and curl up next to her on the couch.

She wanted to cook for her and watch the delight on her face when she bit into something delicious. She wanted to make dessert with her...that would turn into more than just baking with hot chocolate and whipped cream. She wanted to lick ice cream toppings off of her body.

She wanted Emily to have her way with her in every room in her house. She wanted so many impossible things. She was mapping out a future with someone she didn't even know. Yet, she felt like life hadn't existed before she met her. It was an impossibly selfish dream, but it was what her heart desired.