A/N: I am on a serious Albannach kick right now. If you haven't listened to them, I suggest Youtubing their songs 'The Gael', 'Hooligan's Holiday', and 'The Wanted Man of Barra'. Amazing, amazing band. Celtic band actually. (I'm of Scottish heritage so I've been raised in an environment where I learned to love and appreciate bagpipes and the beauty of Celtic music).
Anyway, I was rereading the reviews for Say Something. It's really heartwarming to know I was missed. And while I wish I hadn't taken that big gap, a lot of things happened in those three months that changed me personally, humbled me, and opened my mind. I think my writing has definitely benefited from those experiences. One of those things is what this story is about. But I won't reveal it yet; I don't want to spoil the story for you.
Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds or any of its characters and affiliates. But I WILL SOON! "does an Irish jig and cackles maniacally as I plot my world domination"
Yes I'm totally nuts.
~It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace~ - Chuck Palahniuk
June 26, 1989
Laying on the couch staring blankly at the TV, JJ was too numb to even think about doing anything. It was like she was on autopilot. Everything that needed to be done; eating, going to the bathroom, brushing her hair...she just did, without any thought whatsoever. But it was only the basic daily ritual that got completed. She never did anything more.
It had been a week since Rosaline committed suicide, and every member of their family had found a different way of coping.
Their father, Michael, had taken to sitting in the back garden, absently tending to the flowers and shrubs that were growing there. The roses reminded him of his eldest. His Rosaline, his little rose.
Their mother, Sandy, was distant and detached. She would either sit in her bedroom all day, crying softly for the child she could no longer hold, or on her better days, would sit at the kitchen table, staring blankly at the day's newspaper.
James would disappear for the entire day, JJ's soccer ball under his arm when he left and returned. Normally, JJ would have had a fit at him for taking her soccer ball; it was her lucky ball, the one that Rosaline had gotten her for Christmas.
She was too mad at her sister to care. She didn't care if James destroyed the ball, she never wanted it near her again.
JJ knew she wouldn't be so numb if she hadn't been the one to find Rosaline. If she hadn't found her in the bathtub in the early hours of the morning, blood oozing from the gashes on her wrists the same way the blood had dripped from JJ's injured knuckles just a week earlier.
Swallowing thickly, JJ pushed herself up off the couch, getting to her feet slowly. She grabbed the armrest as she swayed unsteadily. Her head felt heavy because she'd cried so much. Her eyes were puffy and red, which was almost a constant state for her.
Pressing a hand to her head, she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She had a thumping headache; she wasn't sure if it was from lack of sleep or crying so much, but either way, it was royally pissing her off.
Shuffling through to the kitchen, she found her mother sitting at the kitchen table. As expected, the daily newspaper sat in front of her, pages ruffled slightly from where they had been turned.
"Mom," JJ croaked, her voice raspy and hoarse. She hadn't spoken very much in the past week, and that combined with her outpouring of tears had left her with practically no voice.
"Yeah?" her mother asked vaguely, lifting her face to look weakly at her youngest child.
In the moment when they made eye contact, JJ could've sworn she saw a hint of an apology in her mother's eyes.
'I'm sorry I'm not parenting you like I should be.'
"I have a headache," JJ told her, straining to get the words out. Every time she opened her mouth, she felt like she was going to vomit; the headache was not helping.
Sandy sighed, but immediately regretted it. Her youngest child needed her, and she was too broken to care.
"Take some Motrin and go lie down for a while," she said absently, looking back down at the newspaper.
JJ nodded sadly, turning towards the cupboard above the refrigerator where all their medicinal needs were kept.
Opening the cupboard, she strained upwards on the tips of her toes, the tips of her fingers just brushing the box of Motrin, managing to knock it from the cupboard and into her hands.
Popping two pills from a blister sheet, she filled a glass with water and quickly downed the medication. She drained the remainder of the glass before setting it down beside the sink, and replacing the Motrin box at the top of the cupboard.
Without even acknowledging her mother, she left the room, traipsing back to her bedroom and collapsing on top of her bed.
Laying there for a few moments, she breathed deeply, her eyes falling closed as she tried not to cry again. Crying was becoming physically painful because of how sore her eyes already were.
Curling up in a ball, she wrapped the ratty old blanket she'd had since she was a little girl around her shoulders. It wasn't cold, but she wanted something around her. Something to remind her what it felt like when Rosaline used to crawl into her bed and hold her to protect her from the thunderstorms.
Once that thought had crossed her mind, there was no holding the tears back. Squeezing her eyes shut, she buried her face in a fistful of the blanket, muffling her quiet sobs.
She cried for a few minutes, lifting her face when she felt a gentle breeze flutter through the open window. Looking up, she saw the peachy coloured sky, scattered with grey. The scent of rain floated in through the window, the breeze raising goose bumps on her skin.
The reflection of the slowly sinking sun bounced off of something to JJ's left, catching her off guard.
Turning her head, she saw the necklace. The one Rosaline had given her the afternoon before she committed suicide.
Reaching out, she took the gold necklace in between her fingers, pushing herself up to sit on the edge of the bed as she did.
Looking down at the pretty gold heart that she had yearned for for so long, she felt a lump the size of a soccer ball welling up in her throat.
Letting out an angry yell, she stood up, hurling the necklace through the open window before sinking to her knees at the edge of her bed, the tears falling once more as she dropped her head towards her knees, her hands pressing against the ache in her head.
She was so mad at her sister.
No. Not mad.
She hated her.
