Author's Note: Special thanks to the reviewers of last chapter: FloatingAomeba; stefi; crazyobsession101; SparkleInTheSun; SignedSealedWritten; youdude (No, though JJ and Hotch will have a special relationship through the story, in this one, JJ wants Will...she's just not ready for that yet. But, he will be back) ; Black Angel of the Underworld; Zolidify; hxchick; L. Wrice. Reviews genuinely make my day, so thanks for that.
Also, special thanks to brynnifer, SignedSealedWritten and littlegreenbottle for beta'ing this all. Thanks guys!
WARNING: Self-harming. This is not something I have personal experience with, so I'm just going with it.
JJ closed the bathroom door behind her and sighed as she collapsed against it momentarily. She breathed in deeply, attempting to force the jumbled anxious-ridden thoughts out of her head.
She didn't have to eat the pancakes—Hotch would have understood.
Would he?
Emily always tried to understand—help her despite the fact she had no idea why JJ couldn't-or wouldn't-eat certain foods.
JJ wasn't sure of that herself.
Because food felt bad, even though she knew it didn't always feel like that. But now, food felt dirty, tainted, and disgusting.
She felt the same way about food as she did about herself.
Lifting her thick sweatshirt and the two shirts underneath, she grimaced at the scabbed lines of varying depth—evidence of her complete lack of control glaring back at her from her abdomen.
Was there ever a time she had been in control?
She wasn't sure anymore.
She felt a pang of guilt, knowing that Hotch and Emily both trusted her as she dug her fingers sharply against her stomach until a small trickle of blood cascaded from the new wound. Letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding, she felt a wave of relief wash over her.
Wiping her brow, she glanced at the bathtub, shuddering at the thought of showering. Even the thought of being wet, naked, vulnerable, made the entire world feel like it was crushing down on her.
She hated being vulnerable.
But that's all she was anymore.
Nausea bubbled up at her as the thought of their trust, their absolute faith that she would listen to them sent her stomach rolling.
They should know better—she didn't deserve to be trusted.
She bit her lip apprehensively—Hotch had been so kind, and she had felt so…safe…it almost felt like all of the terrors that weighed on her were kept away by his stoic jaw line.
But JJ knew better.
She would never be safe.
Her stomach churned at the memory of Hotch's kindness. What did he expect from her now?
If he was anything like Manuel…She shuddered as she let her thoughts trail off.
Hotch was nothing like Manuel. He wouldn't send her away.
Would he?
She shouldn't think like this, she knew better.
But she just couldn't help it.
The food turned in her stomach, the undigested pittance inside her rebelling familiarly as she tried in vain to keep it down.
At first she thought she was doing this on purpose to try and exercise control over her life.
Now she realized that she was just as submissive as the food that entered her mouth.
She couldn't help it.
She was weak.
She could feel each individual morsel of warm food as it passed through her system growing heavier and heavier as it sat in her stomach, waiting desperately for her to allow its release. And, just like every other time, no matter how hard she tried she just couldn't keep the food down.
Closing the gap between her and the porcelain toilet, she collapsed to the floor. With surprising silence, she involuntarily expelled the offending food, quickly emptying her stomach from the food that had invaded her.
Instantly flushing the toilet, she washed her hands three times before flushing her mouth with cool water and grimacing at the disgusting figure that looked back at her in the mirror.
She paused at the door, hanging her head dejectedly at her weakness in submitting to the compulsion to expel anything she could from her body.
Even if she couldn't help it, she should have been stronger.
Hotch and Emily trusted her.
No, she didn't deserve to be trusted.