Thank you for the great response I got, because of that, here is chapter 2 :) Same warnings go for this one. Also I'd just like to say that the next chapter will have more of JJ in it. This one is still kind of setting up the scene. Thanks for reading, reviewing, and favoriting, you don't know how much it means!

I do not own Criminal Minds

Emily had paid no attention in Algebra; there was no use in trying to raise her grade before the next trimester started. It was a lost cause like most else in her life.

Even sitting in English she didn't feel the same peace she usually did. Last night had taken over her mind. It made her so sick she wanted to vomit, but suddenly her attention was caught by JJ.

"So...?" JJ looked at her, awkwardly shifting foot to foot.

"What?" Emily looked around confused, but things slowly started to make sense as she saw people pair up.

"Ms. Young told us to pick partners for our project," JJ said.

"Oh," Emily said dumbly.

"Do you want to be mine?" JJ asked again.

Emily looked up thinking she must have heard that wrong. Usually she was the one left sitting there without a partner. The teacher would have to walk around to see if someone would let her join their groups. After the first few times when groups would say no, it was no longer an option. If you were asked, Emily was in your group. This only resulted in people hating her more than they already did, and trying not to be the group closest to the teacher.

And especially, just the way she felt when she was around JJ, it made her feel like even more of a freak. Who would want to be her partner?

"A-are you sure?" Emily criticized herself for stuttering.

"That's why I asked." JJ smiled and sat down in the empty seat next to her.

Emily let out a small smile in return.

"So I take it you didn't hear what the project was about?" JJ asked.

Emily looked down ashamed. "I- uh..."

"It's fine. It shouldn't be too hard. For the next week we are going to research, do a project on, and write a speech on a topic. The topic has to be a problem or controversy in society. She gave us examples like homelessness, obesity, and abortion." She explained.

"Not abortion," Emily said quickly, probably too quickly. But she didn't care, she wasn't going to stand in front of a bunch of students and either try to defend it or tell them it's the worst thing in the world, and whoever does it is going to hell. Not a chance.

"Okay," JJ nodded slowly, but gave Emily a quick glance. Truth was she didn't really know much about her. She knew her mother was a diplomat, and she also knew she had kind of become sort of an outcast. But most of all she knew that no one ever picked her for anything, and she knew, not by personal experience, how that felt.

"All we have to do today is choose a topic," JJ said, "Do you have any ideas?"

Emily shook her head. "Not a stupid topic. Nothing like, 'should we have year round school?'."

"I was thinking the same thing. There are much more important things than that. Hunger?"

"Too unoriginal," Emily said, "Women's rights?"

"And you thought hunger was unoriginal?" JJ laughed.

Emily cracked another smile.

"How about domestic abuse?" JJ added.

Emily paused, and scanned her brain for something else she could say, "Or suicide."

This time JJ froze.

Emily looked at the expression that crossed over JJ's face. "Domestic abuse is fine," She said reluctantly. Emily could tell something about that made JJ uncomfortable, and she would do anything to change that. She hated to see her like that.

"Okay," JJ nodded slowly not noticing the familiar uncomfortableness in her own partner. "Ms. Young wants us to look up our subject tonight and then we can discuss it more tomorrow."

Emily nodded, she was just glad JJ had asked to be her partner.

XXX

Immediately after school Emily went to her bedroom and turned on her laptop. It had been one of her 'we're leaving again' gifts from her parents. She googled domestic violence and wasn't even shocked at the number of links that came up. She clicked on a page of statistics. 1 in every 4 women will be a victim of domestic violence in their lifetime, almost one third of female homicides are from a family member, and as she read the next one her finger froze over the scroll button.

Almost 7.8 million women have been raped by an intimate partner.

She heard the squeaking of her door being opened and immediately closed the page.

"What are you doing here little lady?" Her father approached her.

"Just some homework," She said slowly, keeping her eyes off of him.

"Well, I think you can take a break from that." The sound of his voice made her stomach turn.

"I'm sorry, but I really need to do this." Emily continued to stare at her computer.

"I said," He put his hand around her arm and squeezed it hard, "I think we need to spend some time together." He pulled her up by the arm and then pulled her out of her room.

Emily stumbled next to him, and didn't try to pull out of his grip. Last time she tried she ended up with bruises that lasted for days. They walked down the stairs together and he brought her to the living room and sat her down on the couch.

"Tell me about your day Emily," He said and rested his hand on her knee.

"It... was... good..." She blinked her eyes slowly.

"What did you do?" His smiled spread.

"I... We are learning about the Europe in world history." She said trying to forget about where his hand was.

XXX

That night he came back into her room.

After what felt like a lifetime he finally left. Once Emily heard him walk into his bedroom and close the door she let the tears loose. Sobs racked her body and she pulled herself into the fetal position. She felt her stomach turn and ran into the bathroom just in time to vomit into the toilet.

She collapsed onto the ground. She felt dirty.

Finally she dragged herself up and got in the shower. She tried to rinse the feeling off of her, but couldn't. No matter how long she stood under the steaming water and no matter how much soap she used, Emily felt the same. She felt like the same dirty, worthless, piece of trash she had become when she was eight.

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