Don't let go - Emily Prentiss & y/n

There's something about you...

TW: Self-harm, talk of a relapse after being clean for a while, depression, smoking (cigarettes). Please reach out to someone if you're struggling, stay safe <3

I feel like this chapter finally starts picking the storyline up a little, so I hope you enjoy!

You spent the rest of the day in bed. You didn't realise it was possible to cry so much. Ever since the meeting with Hotch, tears had been streaming down your face effortlessly. It was truly a miracle you got home safely.

As soon as you'd walked through the door, you dropped everything on the floor and grabbed your headphones to drown out the noises from the street outside. You'd been lying in bed lifeless since. Your phone had been flashing on and off with calls and texts from the team. When it got dark outside, your phone kept lighting up the whole room, so you turned it over and shut your eyes.

I can't keep doing this. I don't have it in me to keep feeling all this. I need to do something to stop it.

As soon as the idea popped into your head, it was already too late. The thoughts lingered there, no matter how hard you tried to bat them away.

You'd been clean for a year now. You promised yourself when you joined the BAU that you weren't going to keep punishing yourself. Every day you saw people hurt because of other people. These victims wanted nothing more than to go back to their normal lives. Yet here you were: hurting yourself everyday was normal for you.

This wasn't the first time you'd had these thoughts since. Recovery isn't just deciding to be better, it's putting the work in every day. It's deciding every single day not to hurt yourself, and some days that's harder than others.

But today, nothing you could think or do could convince you it wasn't worth it. Sitting through your feelings instead of blocking them out just didn't feel like an option tonight. It was too late.

Before you knew it you were rushing into your bathroom. You'd lived alone for years, and yet out of habit you still locked the door. You reached into your bathroom cabinet and pulled out a tin filled with razor blades. You sat down on the floor of your bathroom, opening the tin and staring at it for a while.

Since deciding to be clean from self-harm, you hadn't even opened this tin. Something about making that first step made it even more impossible to go back now. You felt like you'd already relapsed.

You took a deep breath in and out, reached for one of the razors and inspected it. You rolled your left sleeve up and trailed your fingers down your old scars. You debated doing it on your thighs instead, where no one would see. You'd never had a problem hiding your scars from the team, but you were debating whether to risk it with fresh cuts or not. Somehow, even now in this moment of desperation, your job and the team were still in your head.

You decided against your legs. If you were going to return back to work in a couple of days, you didn't want your legs to be in pain whilst you chased down an Unsub. You'd deal with the fallout later, right now you just needed the pain to stop. You needed to be numb again.

You inhaled deeply again, bringing the razor to your arm and pressing it to your skin. You lingered there for a second, taking in the last few moments of being clean.

Knock knock

You jumped at the sound, dropping your razor onto the floor. You sat frozen for a minute, hoping it was in your head.

Knock knock

You quickly picked up the razor and put it back into the tin, leaving the bathroom and rushing to the front door. As you opened the door, the light from the outside made you squint after so long in the dark.