A/N: I'm going to apologize ahead. I'm sorry. This isn't a very happy chapter. And it's longer than the others. But it's super good so read it! Please read my endnotes! They are really important!

Chapter 19

JJ POV

We crowded around Pen's desk as she showed us what she had found. "Introducing: Brett Davis. He's twenty-three. His family had enough wealth to keep the young boy out of trouble. Accused of rape, twice, both accusations dropped. He was also transferred from private school to private school. He went to Berkeley but dropped out after a semester. Then, he went radio silent. He was busted for drugs twice before going off the grid. Until last month. He got a credit card— I think his parents have been giving him money— and he's been buying all the things you guys mentioned."

"Sounds a lot like Tex Watson. Similar upbringing and all of that," Sasha murmured as if she was thinking very carefully about what she was saying.

"He does sound quite suspicious," Hotch agreed. "Does he have a known address?"

Penelope shook her head. "Sorry, bossman. But I can tell you all the stores he has gone to if that would help."

"Maybe the store owners would remember him with being someone?" Derek theorized. "If there are a bunch girls hanging around him, it'll be memorable."

Hotch nodded in agreement. "It's worth a shot. You and Rossi want to check it out? Reid, continue what you were doing."

"Wakowski, Olsen," Sasha directed. "Go with them. Help them out."

The two detectives nodded and followed Rossi and Derek out the precinct.

"I want to talk to people again. There has got to be people who have heard of them. If they are in the drug scene, somebody has to remember selling a cult drugs. A cult like this one can't be invisible. They have to attract their members somehow," Hotch told us, sounding beyond frustrated.

"That sounds like a good idea," Sasha agreed. "I'll go with. Delmonico, you want to join?"

"Of course, Ty," Delmonico said, following her orders exactly.

I couldn't exactly tell why everyone followed her like puppy dogs. She wasn't the captain or sergeant and yet… her team seemed to treat her like the boss.

I didn't trust her. That was what my gut was telling me. I wanted Emily. I wanted to bounce my thoughts off of her. She knew so much. She always had theories, even if they were ones she kept to her- her notebook! I only just remembered that Emily kept a secret notebook inside her go bag. She told me just in case she was either taken or killed by an UnSub. It was supposed to be a security precaution. I thought she was just paranoid. Now, now I understood why she did it.

"I'll join you guys," I commanded loudly. "But I'd like to make a stop along the way."

Emily POV

"Mary," Sadie said as she opened the door. "This is Leslie," She introduced as the skinny, tall woman entered the room.

"Hi, Mary," The woman greeted as she opened a briefcase. It seemed odd that someone in the Family would have something so formal. But then again, there weren't papers in the briefcase. Inside the briefcase was a couple of vials. Definitely not good.

I squirmed even though I knew that I couldn't get out. She used the syringe to get the substance into it. She then turned to me.

"What is it?" I asked. "I don't want it."

"You need it, Mary," Sadie told me. "It's the first step. Charlie made sure all of us got it. It brings back all the memories we tried to forget. And then Charlie helps us destroy them. Now, they aren't even in our minds."

I knew at that moment that this Family was much more advanced than the original Family. Manson used LSD and sex to manipulate his followers. Now modern science can help the job go faster.

"I don't want to remember!" I shouted, cowering away as Leslie brought the syringe close to my veins.

"I'm sorry," Sadie said with a frown. "But it has to be done. For Charlie. For you. Go ahead, Les."

I let out a scream of pain as Leslie injected me with whatever was in that syringe. I felt the room start to spin immediately. Then it became dark. And everything came at once.

"Emily Elizabeth Prentiss!" Mother shouted as she opened my door. I groaned. I was not willing to get up this morning. I could barely move. "It's almost 9 AM. Why are you still in bed, young lady?"

I pulled the sheets over my head. I tried to roll over, but I was too sore. "Because I'm tired. Leave me alone."

"I'm your mother, Emily. You aren't allowed to speak to me like that. You're only thirteen. Barely a young woman. Now get out of that bed before I make you."

Part of me wanted to get out. But I couldn't. Physically, my body was incredibly strained. Everything hurt.

Mother harrumphed and suddenly dragged the sheets off my body.

My eyes were still closed. I knew she saw it. The bruises scattered against my thighs. The blood on the blankets. The used condom on my sheets. The absolute mess.

"Who?"

"Who what?" I asked, just wanting her to leave.

"Who did you have sex with?" When I didn't reply, she added, "What if someone found out? That my daughter is having sex at this age. You're a disappointment."

Anger boiled me over and I screamed out, "Daddy!"

"What?"

"It was Daddy."

I didn't see her reaction. I couldn't.

"Being a whore at your age is bad enough, Emily. Don't put blame on your father. Clean up. Your tutor will be here in an hour."

John passed me the joint he was smoking.

We sat on a bench and looked at the people that passed by. Sometimes we would watch people go by and try to figure out what they were talking about. Other times we would cynically talk about how all the happy people were lying to themselves. It all depended on the drugs we were using, really.

Tonight was different. Johnny had tried to strike up a conversation, but I was a pure ball of stress. There was something I had to tell him. Even though a huge part of me didn't want to.

"What's wrong, Em?" John asked as he put his hand on my upper thigh.

I groaned. His actions like that were what got us in this problem in the first place. "There's something I need to tell you. You aren't gonna like it."

John made a sour face. "You got an STD or something?"

"No…"

"You wanna stop having sex…?"

"No-"

"Giving up on drugs?"

"N-"

"You seeing Matth-"

"John!" I yelled so I could get his attention. He stared at me with this blank look. I wondered if telling him when he was high was such a good idea. I took a deep breath and whispered, "I'm pregnant."

He continued to stare as if nothing happened. "B-but the condoms…"

"Must've ripped or something…" I told him. "But it doesn't matter. Either way, I'm pregnant and my parents are going to kill me."

He shook his head in disbelief. "I'm sixteen, Emily. Sixteen. I can't be a father. I can't play that role for you. I won't do it. You aren't thinking of keeping it are you?"

Maybe. "No."

"Good. Good. I gotta go. But, uh, I guess I'll see you around," Without saying anything else, he got up and left.

Suddenly everything was cold. I curled up into a ball and wrapped my jacket around my knees. I started to cry for the first time in years.

Sasha had her whole body wrapped around mine. We kissed and cuddled and had sex. Saturday mornings with my now 'Fiancee' were the best. In her arms, she could make me feel so safe. So special. So loved.

And then, my phone rang. I ignored it, but it rang again, and again, and again.

Eventually, Sasha said, "Just go get it, Em. This person won't stop calling."

Groaning angrily, I answered the phone with an aggressive, "What," without looking at who was calling.

"Emily, hello to you, too."

I facepalmed. I couldn't believe it was my mother interrupting my perfectly good morning.

"Hello, mother. What can I do for you?"

"Darling, you need to come home."

I scoffed. "Home? Why?"

She paused before responding. "Because your father just had a heart attack. I don't know if he's going to make it."

I dropped the phone on the floor, feeling overwhelming emotions. Anger, sadness, and deep down, relief.

"Baby, what is it?" Sasha asked, grabbing my hand to get me to look at her.

I stared into her dark eyes and said, "My dad had a heart attack. He might not make it. My mom wants me to go home. Or- Belgium I guess."

"I'm so sorry, Emmy. I can help you get your stuff together-"

"No," I interrupted. I took a deep breath in. I pushed all the memories to the back of my mind. All feelings. Everything. Everything I have felt for the past decade. Including my feelings for Sasha. I didn't want to feel anything at all. "No… I don't need your help."

I couldn't believe I told JJ about my father on one night of drunken confessions. I didn't tell anyone. Not since Sasha or Matthew, the only two people I could trust with my feelings.

She held me the whole night. She held me even as I was shaking. Even as I cried and screamed and told her about my demons. She stayed. She didn't run or hide. I thought that anyone else would have (besides Sasha and Matthew, of course).

JJ reminded me that I wasn't the only damaged one. Her sister had committed suicide. And it fucked her up, rightfully so. I wondered if she wanted me to help fix her as well.

She might have been straight, and she might have been with Will, but apart of me thought that JJ had the ability to love me. Because only love could make a person stay through all of that. That was the exact moment I realized I wanted JJ to want me. Because I wanted her. All of her.

But I was weak. And scared. And deathly afraid of Jennifer Jareau. So when she woke up, I pretended like I didn't know why she was in my bed or what I said throughout the night. I pretended like I didn't fall in love with her. I pretended like it was funny. Two girls who occasionally had casual sex woke up from being drunk and weren't naked. Fucking hilarious.

Somedays at school were easier than others. Some kids were nicer than others. The best days were the ones no one said a word to me. I could fade into the walls like I wasn't even there. Other days were harder. The ones where I was pushed against the wall or was the schoolwide punching bag. There were places I was known for being a slut. In others, I wasn't known for being anything at all. I was simply not known.

Italy had been the one place where I thought that I could finally fit in. Matthew took me in and made me feel special. John made me feel free and taught me how to be reckless. Everything was better. For awhile.

But I was a pro at ruining things. I thought having sex with John would make him want to be around me more. Getting pregnant definitely wasn't a plan of mine. Having the abortion, that was my only choice.

Matthew tried to make things easier for me. He held my hand and told me how much he loved me. He said I was strong, but I didn't believe him. I was ruining his life, for god's sake.

A week after the abortion, I begged my mom to take us somewhere else. For the first time in my life, my mother agreed. She told me that she didn't like Italy. So, we left. I snuck into Matthew's room for one last time and left him a note. I was a coward, but I couldn't do it any other way. I took too much of his life already.

Ireland was just like any of the other places we had already lived. I had become so tired of it. So exhausted and ashamed. Everything felt worthless and empty. There was no reason for me to keep going.

Depression pulled me under. I was arguably depressed my whole life, but this was something different. Something darker and scarier. I buried myself into a hole and I couldn't even see the light.

The pills were an easy way out. And I took it, hoping that I could succeed.

I didn't. I woke up and saw my mother's assistant. She told me that my mother was busy. She apologized profusely for my mother's absence, but I didn't mind at the time.

I didn't try it again. My mother had security on me at all times. I thought that was how she dealt with it. She didn't try to talk to me. She made sure I didn't do it again. That was her way of caring.

Sometimes at night, I'd hold onto the good things about Ian Doyle. The list was short. But no one could deny his protectiveness, his security, his unwavering pride, and his fearlessness. Sometimes I wanted to remember the way he held me all night long as if he claimed me.

Possessiveness. Jealousy. Rage. Greed. Hunger for power. Those were the things I tried to shake out of my mind. I didn't want to remember how I had to walk on eggshells. Or how I had to hold my tongue. Or how I had to hold Declan close to me when his dad got too drunk. Or how he hit me and then fucked me and how I couldn't say 'no.'

I wanted to regret everything about him. Everything that Lauren Reynolds did. But even I couldn't deny, sometimes in the middle of the night, I missed her. I missed Lauren Reynolds. I missed the way I was held by Ian Doyle. Because even if I didn't love him… even if I hated everything about him, for a second, I felt loved.

There are just a few things I want to say about this chapter.

1. The drug that Emily was on I made up. In the story, it is technically 'experimental.' I have no idea if this kind of drug would exist at all. It is specifically used for Manson, however, to control his followers. The drug is given as like the first stage to break every down. These memories or dark thoughts are what Emily tries to push back. The drugs brought them back forward and replayed in her head.

2. Ian Doyle is referenced, but do not fear. He is not in the story at all. He is merely referenced because he is important in Emily's past.

3. I know that Emily's notebook is too good to be true, but please let's just pretend. Emily is paranoid like I'm actually kinda sure she would do this.

And overall, if you're still reading this, thank you so much! Things are looking quite dark right now, but things will get better. I promise. And Jemily is coming. Reviews are super welcomed! I love em!