The room that she was in was off as it was shaped almost like the oval office in the White House. The room made her think of her trip to DC, Sophomore year of High School and she remembered her mother going with her, the woman's pearly whites showing in each picture she had from that time. She didn't keep a lot of things from her past but a photo album, some clothes and a locket her father had given her with an infinity sign on the top and a picture of him and her mother in the inside. It came in use after their murder as a way to honor them and the infinity sign was now tattooed on the inside of her wrist.

She was in her own head but that was quickly remedied.

"Emily I hear you've made some friends here," her therapist stated rather than asked as she already knew the answer.

Emily was quick to quip. "If you mean I've told people my name and shared a bowl of popcorn with a few of them then yes, friends for life," she said as she flipped her choppy black hair.

"Nurse Harrington told me you've taken to a young man named Nolan here," she said as she licked her lips.

Emily shrugged and looked into her lap. "I guess so, he's been curious about me but I think it's out of loneliness. He said I'm special but I bet he says that to everyone with a vagina like most men," she murmured with a slight bitter tone developing.

Her therapist who wore Sally Jesse Raphael glasses that were red and big and filled her face shook her head with a little smile. "You are special. You just need to make yourself realize that."

"Easier said than done," Emily told her as she reached for her glass of water.

"How is the medication working out for you? How do you feel?" she asked as she pushed her glasses further up on her nose.

"I feel fine, no better no worse. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel," she said as she took a sip and didn't stop.

"Thirsty I see," the woman told her and Emily gave her a watchful eye in return.

"Nope, just bored, I've been going to therapy for two years now and nothing has changed. Talking and writing and sitting and popping pills won't bring my family back. I don't think you know what it's like having to tell your story over and over. It's a daunting task," she replied as she set the empty glass down wishing it was full again so she could drink and not speak.

"Let's talk about that, what happened that Palm Sunday," The woman spoke which made Emily mad as if she hadn't listened to her speak at all.

"Did I not just say it was daunting?" Emily asked, her left eye twitching from absolute madness. What she really wanted was a drink, something as strong as vodka or whiskey. Vodka tonic, hold the tonic, yes please.

"I understand that Emily but I think the more you talk about the event, the easier it will be to deal with it all," she said.

"It wasn't an "Event" it was a total shit show. It was a horror story, it was a parade of violence and death and I was caught in the middle of it. I wish I had died with them but now I'm stuck here. Is that what you want to hear?" she asked as she felt the need to smash something.

"I…"

"Let me out of this room," Emily declared with fire in her eyes. The therapist began to speak again but Emily stopped her with her confidence and booming thunder of a voice.

"Let me out of this room."

And she did.

He remembered his trip to Arizona, the sun blistering his pale skin when he was just a boy and later turning him into a lobster. Instead of a sympathetic ear from his parents he was scolded for staying out so long and not paying close enough attention. Slathering aloe all over his body his mother pat his skin too hard and moved him around like a rag doll cursing his existence and he was only eight at the time. He was told to grow up quickly and never look back because his blue collar life was all he would ever have. Nolan knew he had so much more to look forward to one day but growing up a genius with abusive parents was no party.

In his room at Allenwood labeled 24, Emily Thorne's was 47, he could feel the cooling sensation of the aloe on his skin like he was eight again and sometimes he believed that all he had were his memories. At times it felt like new ones had to be bought or borrowed because nothing stuck. Under the blankets that were stiff his hands moved along his bare arms, the light hairs sticking up there from the friction. Unable to sleep he found solace in the fact that Emily was just down the hall probably doing the same since she had told him earlier that sleeping did not often come to her as it was second nature to most humans.

He knew he had to talk to his therapist in the morning and he knew in the real world that a coffee cup would be in his shaky hands or perhaps a big gulp of the iced kind but tomorrow he would have milk sans any caffeine.

Another sleepless night and another day of lackluster dreams.

The month changed quickly and that meant the weather too. Emily Thorne had packed lightly which meant she didn't have much in the way of winter clothes. She just assumed she would be there for a few weeks. She knew she wouldn't heal in that time but when something so terrible happens to you, you never really heal.

Nolan was lucky that the long shirts and long johns covered his scars from self- harm and one attempt at suicide. It was something he never spoke about but it was a known fact since all the orderlies were told to keep an eye on him, all the patients who tried to hurt themselves had to be under close observation for their own safety but it made Nolan feel as if he was being watched at all times which made him feel like a stick in the mud. He couldn't be himself, he couldn't express himself and he couldn't speak with a free tongue. He had to hold back even with Emily, the girl who he was so excited to know. There was always little to be curious about behind these walls but there was just something about her.

He told her there was something about her to which she responded, "I bet you say that to all the girls in here."

Nolan Ross smirked and raised a brow as he very obviously checked out one of the male orderlies, "And the boys."

When December came around they huddled together for warmth and cracked jokes but still never spoke of their trauma, well not until now…

In his hand were a set of playing cards and on his face, a smile. Whenever she walked into the room he brightened up just a smidge. Her hair looked unkempt and her eyes worn but she too wore a hint of a smile because it was nice finally having a friend. Slumping over in her chair she eyed his wrist where the scar began, his sleeves rolled up because he was feeling warm, the heat pumping in from a vent in the wall close to them. She was never one to just reach over and touch a man's skin but she did this time and she instantly regretted it when she saw the fear in his eyes.

"I'm not judging you Nolan; it just makes me wonder if I could ever do it."

Rolling his sleeves back down, Ross pushed the vent down so it wouldn't be blowing on them quite so much. He could tell she was a bit overheated.

"Don't even think about it doll face. Remember permanent solution to a temporary problem and all that yadda yadda. I learned that the hard way," he proclaimed, knowing he had made a mistake.

"I don't know I think my problems are pretty permanent," she told him as she bit her lip. "Did it hurt?" she asked reaching for his wrist again to which instead, he gave her his hand which she graciously took, enjoying a slight moment of comfort.

Looking at the deck of cards she became fixated on the Queen and knew she wanted to be in charge and on top of the world one day. She knew she could be tough instead of soft. She knew her temper could be turned into something wonderful one day, she just didn't know what that was yet. She didn't know what she could turn into, if given the chance.