Hey! Over six months later, I still need to say thank you to everyone who made me smile and cry for the reviews and love they left for Messy Little Raindrops! They were all just so beautiful, heartwarming, and would honestly make any writer so happy! It's been oh so long since my last appearance here. I've been busy with work, school and being just uber tired to write something decent and nice even if I have ideas floating in my scattered brain, I feel so rusty and almost odd posting here again, lol. I do have something though! I kind of do want to expand this if I can think of more to add, lol. If not, it will be left like this. And before I completely forget, this story (Can I even call it that?) really, really, really isn't much. I wrote this for a prompt and these were some of the first thoughts that came into my head. Also, some of you may have read this on another site because I did post it elsewhere before posting here… so just in case, I really can't steal anything that is mine, lol. As always, I hope people will enjoy this and it'll be lovely if you have any comments, thoughts or whatevs for me! Thanks a bunch!
She wants to leave.
Leave this room, this building, this city, and this state. She doesn't want be here. She will walk, she will run. Yet if all she can do is crawl because of this pathetic, this broken condition she is currently in, she will do just that because she simply doesn't want to be here.
She can't be here.
She wants to go back to them. She wants to go back home.
They are her home.
The home she has longed for ever since she can remember. The home filled with tears, fears, and laughs. And the home where all she ever felt had been security, hope and ultimately, love because through the five years they have spent together, they are everything she could wished for, they are everything she would die for.
And she did because Emily Prentiss never made it off the table.
She can't go home.
The water rises in her vision. She blinks once and twice only for salty beads to form at the corner of her eyes and caught by the hospital scented pillow. Her beating heart is gripped at, her cold hands fist and her dry mouth parts.
She needs; wants desperately to scream.
Yet it is only silence that fills the room and her world.
She can't make any sounds when she feels hollow, numb and so dead. She can't make any sounds when she's supposed to be dead.
She doesn't exist anymore.
Not right now, not tomorrow, not unless a bullet will find a home in-between Ian Doyle's eyes.
So until then, Emily Prentiss will be part of their memories. She will be played in the back of their minds like a movie reel. She will be an image that is carved into their hearts.
But most of all, she will just be a past that will haunt them. She will be a past that will stain their hands. She will be a past that they will never escape from. She will be a past that will tell them, remind them and perhaps mock them that sometimes they really just can't save everyone.