A/N: If you read any of my author's notes, please make it this one. It's extremely important to me that everyone knows what they are getting into with this fic. It is nothing like my other fics. This one is a lot darker and the content is violently heavy. I got this idea from a prompt that was sent to me a while ago on Tumblr: "Emily gets discharged from the military and is left depressed and suffering from PTSD. She's suicidal. She calls a suicide hotline and Alison is the operator." I thought about doing the prompt as a one-shot, but it turned into a short story.

If you're familiar with my work you know I try to keep plot points quiet. That being said, I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that this is going to have a HELLA lot of triggers. Be careful about reading. If you have trouble with being in a dark place in your mind then please *please* tread carefully.

I'd do individual trigger warnings (yeah, it's so dark that the author who sucks about doing trigger warnings is like "trigger, trigger, trigger") for each one, but the fact of the matter is that the entire story itself is basically one giant trigger. If you want to read, but have certain things that trigger you, message me to let me know what it is and I'll tell you if it's part of the story. The last thing I want to do here is cause a real problem while writing a fictional world. But a lot of you asked for dark. You're going to get dark.

This one is rated M, for SO many reasons…

Chapter 1:

The Wounds of War

War is not hell. Surviving it is.

It's not their screams that haunted her the most. It wasn't the deafening explosions that rocked her to her core. It wasn't the gunfire or the blood or the complete chaos that was the hardest part. It was what came after. The silence. Because in that moment, when everything was quiet, she knew without a doubt…everyone she loved was gone. And she was still alive. Barely. It didn't seem fair. It seemed downright cruel.

She wasn't sure how bad her injuries were. She just knew she was bleeding and she couldn't move. She thought for sure she'd just black out and that would be the end of it. But instead, she laid there in agony for hours, completely cognizant and feeling every last bit of her pain.

The dying cries and the pleas for help of everyone in her squad slowly dissipated as light broke into the sky. And then all she had to keep her company was the corpse of the person she'd refused to leave. Her best friend. Her brother.

Memories of their childhood were like flickering echoes in her mind. She could hear his laughter as he pulled her around in his Radio Flyer wagon. She could feel the whoosh of wind on her legs as they challenged one another to swing higher on the swings, pumping their legs as hard as they could. She could smell the burned cheese from all the grilled cheese sandwiches he'd made them. She could see the determined look on his face when he taught her how to throw a punch.

She looked over and could see the blood covering them both in the light of day. His naturally tan skin was devoid of its color. The bright vibrant mischievous smile he'd always worn had been replaced by a fixed grimace that would haunt her forever. She was still gripping the lapel of his jacket.

Come back. Please. Please come back. I can't do this without you.

She wanted to cry, but she had nothing left. So she just laid there with one thought echoing over and over in her head.

Why can't I just die?

She was on her way out of the world when she heard someone shouting near her. A shadowy figure leaned over her. She felt something pressing against her neck.

"We've got a live one!" A voice shouted. "Hey, hang in there."

No. No. Just let me die.

She felt a gentle pressure against her wounds.

"We're going to get you out of here."

No. I don't want to go back. He'll find me. He'll kill me. I'm better off dead.

"Hey, look at me, Fields. You're going to be okay."

Someone calling for a medic was the last thing she heard before she passed out.

Eight days after she blacked out she woke up in a VA hospital back in the United States. It felt weird to be home. It didn't even feel like home anymore. She'd been deployed for so long that her home was with her military family. That home was gone now. They were all dead. She was the only survivor. Everyone talked about how miraculous it was that she'd lived. But was she really the lucky one? Because she had to live knowing she should have died with them.

She spent her first few days in the hospital being pissed off that she was alive. The doctors asked her if she had someone they should contact. She refused to answer. She refused to speak at all. They treated her for shock. But it wasn't shock. It was defiance. She was pissed. She was pissed that her brothers and sisters were gone and she was alive. She was pissed at the enemy for taking her family away. And she was pissed at her family for leaving her alone.

And she was alone. Of course no one had come to be with her. She hadn't listed anyone as next of kin. She had joined the army to get away from her only living relative. She spent her time in the hospital constantly looking over her shoulder worried that he would show up. That he would finish her off.

She had joined the army to forget the hell she had at home. The only problem was that she'd replaced one hell with another.

When she was honorably discharged she didn't know which hell to go back to. She supposed it really didn't matter since the person walking through both hells with her was gone.

She spent two months back in town drunk and drugged up on pain killers trying to forget everything she was running from. When that eventually stopped working she fell down a rabbit hole of depression.

No matter what she did, she couldn't get away from it. She could still hear the dying screams of everyone around her. She could still feel the ground quake as bombs exploded nearby. She could feel the spray of bullets whizzing all around her and hitting her and everyone in her squad. She could still taste the blood in her mouth, though it was slowly starting to transition into a bitter numbness from the fermented drink in the flask she was holding.

It tasted like shit. Her boys had always given her a hard time for it. Because a girl liking bourbon? What was that about? One of the rookies had once made the mistake of calling it a "man's drink". She drank him under the table. He'd passed out after two shots. He'd never lived it down.

Now he was gone. The fresh faced little newbie she'd watched blossom into an actual man was dead. When she closed her eyes she could see him being blown to bits. Frothy pink mist and bone fragments had rained down on her. There hadn't even been any blood. It's like he had evaporated into thin air. There had been nothing left of him but a single combat boot and the melted twisted piece of metal that had once been his service weapon.

She closed her eyes tightly and tried to shake the image from her mind, but it was ingrained into her brain.

"Fuck." She uttered, shuddering, though not from the cold.

The wind howled around the bridge she was huddling under. She took a swig of bourbon to warm herself up, and to give her the courage to do what she'd come out here to do.

She felt the alcohol burning her veins. After it relaxed her enough she reached into her pocket and fished out a ziplock bag. Before she'd left her motel room she had loaded it up with everything in her medicine cabinet.

She'd gotten high many times just mixing and matching, but tonight wasn't about getting high to forget the pain. It was about ending it. That's what the voice in her head had been hounding her to do ever since she'd gotten back.

You're better off dead. You have nothing. You have no one. You're a failure. You failed them all. You should have died with them.

She cinched her eyes shut, trying to make the voice be quiet. She'd heard enough of it. After a few seconds she opened her eyes back up. The sound of the bag popping open echoed in the hollow brick structure.

She raised her flask and laughed darkly.

"Cheers to the motherfucking world," she muttered.

She stared at the pills for the longest time. They were all shapes and sizes and colors. She didn't even know what most of them were for anymore.

Do it, you pussy. The voice told her. Just fucking do it.

So she did. Without thinking, she did it.

She didn't feel it at first.

Well...shit, am I immune?

But then she slowly started to feel sluggish. Her face started to go numb.

Thirty minutes later she was fumbling around in her pocket searching for her phone. She wasn't sure why. She didn't have anyone she could call. Her fingers felt like stiff twigs as she scrolled through her contacts.

She saw a number that she'd programmed in her phone the minute she was medically discharged. She wasn't sure why she'd done it at the time. But it was there, so she decided she might as well use it.

Her vision started to blur, but she managed to mash her finger against the "call" button.

Not too far away a phone rang in a small homey office. It had been a quiet night. Only three people remained at the call center. Everyone else had forwarded their phones to their personal devices just in case the call volume became too much for those left.

A small delicate hand reached for the phone. It wasn't her line, but she happened to be walking by her coworker Aria's desk and she picked it up without hesitation.

"Suicide hotline. How can I assist you?" She had always hated the standardized greeting, but in her training she'd learned that until they knew what kind of call they would be handling that was always the best way to start.

At first the only thing on the line was silence. It wasn't uncommon. Sometimes people called and then freaked out at the last minute and they weren't sure what to say.

"I'm here whenever you're ready to talk."

"H-hello?" A woman's voice echoed on the line.

"Hi, I'm here," she assured the caller. "Can I ask what sparked your call to us?"

"I called to order a pizza, what do you think?" Came the heavy sarcastic reply.

That was a new one. The manual didn't cover that, which was fine with her, because she hated reading off of some transcript anyway.

"Well, our delivery service comes with a free conversation. Why don't you tell me what's on your mind tonight?"

"Would you believe me if I told you the weather?" Though she couldn't see straight anymore, she could still see the stars in the sky. They were twinkling and they looked like they were swirling around right in front of her face.

"What about it?" She tried to keep her talking.

There was something in the caller's tone that was concerning. She seemed distant, disconnected.

"Powerful forces," came a shaky muttered response. "You can yell and scream into the void all you want. You can try to harness as much power as you have inside, but it will never be a match for the world…for Mother Nature. Life is…it's just really loud. No matter where I go it's loud."

"You know something else about the weather? It changes. Often. We have horrible storms all the time. But when they pass we have the warmth of the sun again."

"You're good with metaphors." There was a pause on the line. "What's your name?"

The help center usually discouraged giving out personal information, but she had never seen the harm in it, especially if she just gave her first name.

"Alison. My name is Alison. And how about you? Would you feel comfortable sharing your name with me?" Alison asked.

"Uh…" She slurred her words. "I don't…I don't know. I can't remember…can't think."

She sounded like she was in distress, like she was having trouble breathing. A few seconds went by and Alison heard a gasp on the other end of the line.

"Emily," the girl said. "My name is Emily."

There was a noise that sounded like a muffled cough and then a moan.

"Is everything okay, Emily? Are you okay? Do you need help?"

"I took something. I don't know."

"What did you take?"

"Pills. A lot…a lot of them. I don't want to hurt anymore."

So the girl was actively overdosing.

Okay, don't panic. You're trained for this.

"How long ago did you take these pills?" Alison felt her heart racing in her chest. She'd dealt with a few calls like this, but it still shook her up every time.

"I don't know."

"Do you have any Narcan?"

Emily snorted.

"Who the fuck plans a suicide with an antidote ready?"

"Well, you called, so you must want help."

"I don't really know why I called," she mumbled. "I think…maybe because no one wants to die alone."

If she had died with her squad she wouldn't have been alone. That's how it was supposed to go. Live together, die together.

"You're not going to die. I would like to get you some help."

"I feel…everything's…it's all weird. I'm really tired. I think I'm going to go to sleep now."

"No, I need you to stay on the line with me."

"You sound nice enough," Emily said. "I'm sorry I'm putting you through this."

"You're not putting me through anything. I'm here to help. That's what I do."

"No one can help me."

"Well, I'd like to try."

"It's too late. No matter what I do, I'm dead."

"You need to throw up. Do you have any ipecac syrup or peroxide? If you have access to it and you ingest it, it will help you throw up the pills you've taken."

"No. You're not hearing me." She drunkenly muttered. "I don't want to fix it. I am fixing it…fixing my problems, making them go away." Because he couldn't follow her in death. She was just beating him to the punch.

"This is a permanent solution to a temporary problem."

"See…that's where you're wrong." Emily's speech was starting to slur. It was getting harder for Alison to understand her. "My problems are permanent." She moaned, sliding down against a hard flat surface. The wind blew into her face. "I have t-the scars to prove it."

She heard a loud explosion in her head. She heard her Sergeant screaming her name. She felt a pair of rough hands on her in her house. She felt the pain of her childhood. She flinched and twitched uncomfortably.

"I want…I want it to stop. I just want it to stop." Emily muttered.

"Emily, I want you to listen to me. You need to force yourself to throw up, right now."

She couldn't listen to this girl die.

"I can't...I can't feel my hands."

"Please tell me where you are. We can send help. We want to help you. I have an ambulance ready to go if you just tell me where you are."

She'd already put in a request with 911 via the computer system while she'd been on the phone with her. She just needed to figure out where the girl was. The emergency crews were on standby. Normally they kept the authorities out of it, but for extremely severe cases sometimes they would send for help. And considering the girl was dying, it was an extreme case.

"Are you at home? Are you out somewhere?"

Please, give me something. Don't die on me. Please.

Alison listened intently, trying to pick up some kind of background noise to give her a clue as to where Emily was. She heard a gust of wind, which told her that she was outside.

"Can you tell me what you see?" Alison asked.

"The…the stars." She could see twinkling lights through the cover of the trees. "They're so bright…"

There was a thrumming sound in the distance. Emily could feel the ground vibrating. Alison could hear an echo of something. It sounded like a horn.

A few seconds later the line was filled with a loud whooshing noise and then the sound of a train horn. Alison glanced out the window. She could hear a train in the distance. The noise that was echoing through the phone carried over into the building she was in. Alison quickly typed in a guess on where Emily was to the awaiting 911 units.

"Emily, hang on for me, okay?"

Emily responded with a groan. Alison heard a door behind her open. Aria was back from her break.

"Sorry." Aria huffed. "Ellie is cutting a tooth and my mom couldn't find the teething rings…"

Alison stood up and frantically waved her over. Aria quickly scurried next to her. She saw how flustered Alison was.

"What's wrong? What's going on?"

Alison held her index finger straight up to signal for her to hold on for a minute.

"Em?" She wasn't sure why she had cut her name short. It felt natural, normal, like she knew her. "Emily, talk to me."

There was no response this time.

"Damn it," she uttered.

She heard the train whistle fading, both in the distance and on the phone.

"Emily, are you still there?"

Still nothing. Alison ripped the headset off of her head and handed it to Aria.

"Active overdose." Alison quickly explained. "Her name is Emily. See if you can get her talking again." She yanked open her desk and pulled out a small handheld flashlight that she kept handy just in case they ever lost power.

"Where are you going?" Aria took the headset.

"Following a hunch." Alison replied. "I already put in a request for the paramedics, but I think we're closer."

Alison dashed out of the building. Aria tried to rouse Emily, but all she heard was the wind. Alison ran around the side of the building out to the back that was lined with heavy thick trees. She cut through the woods, her breath echoing loudly, puffs of white hot air coming out in the cold evening darkness. Her feet were padding swiftly against the brush. Sticks and leaves were flying everywhere. The ground was hard from the chill.

When she came out the other side of the woods she followed a set of train tracks to an old cement bridge. It had been a staple in the community for decades. It was a landmark, a place where high schoolers went to secretly drink their beers and where homeless people went when they were looking for a place that would protect them from the elements.

"Emily?" She called out.

Unsurprisingly, there was no answer. She steadied her balance and scooted down the hill to where the bridge was covered. She shone the light around. She looked around, but didn't see anything. She kicked up some gravel and cussed under her breath.

She was getting ready to turn around and search another area when she saw some movement in the shadows. She turned the light towards the darkness and saw a pair of shoes sticking out around a bend. Someone had fallen in between a large crack in the wall. The legs were definitely that of a young girl. She raced over to her.

"Emily?" She shined the light on her face.

The girl was long and lean and had dark brown hair covering her face. Her complexion was tan and soft. Her muscles were tone and firm. She was wearing a dark pair of tightly fitted jeans and a black spaghetti-strap top that left her body too exposed to the cold elements.

Alison looked closer and saw a spray of white blemishes scarring her arms. They were round and symmetrical, but different sizes, like she'd been hit by a barrage of bullets and debris. Further up her body she had a large white blemish against her exposed collar bone that looked like an old burn.

She saw a tattoo on her right arm that snaked up her shoulder. It was an army insignia. She'd read statistics about veterans and their high depression rate. No wonder the girl was suicidal. The things she must have seen…

Alison noticed how pale her naturally dark skin looked in the light. She crouched down beside her, checking for a pulse. She found it, faint and fading.

She saw a bright light behind her head and saw her phone. It was still connected to the call center. Alison picked up the phone.

"Aria? Are you still there?"

"Alison?" Aria sounded surprised.

"I found her." Alison replied, feeling like a dumbass, obviously, because she had the girl's phone and Aria knew that. "Tell the paramedics we're under the railway bridge over by Clark Creek. Tell them they need to hurry. I don't think she's going to last much longer."

She put the phone down and cradled the girl's cheeks.

"Emily, it's Alison. We were talking on the phone…" Alison gently jostled her to try and wake her.

The girl's face was lifeless. Her head floundered on her neck. She was limp on the ground.

"I'm going to help you, okay?" Alison looked around.

The girl was knocking on death's doorstep. She could hear the sirens in the distance, but she was afraid they wouldn't make it in time.

She looked down at Emily's parted lips, full and smooth, but pale from the overdose. Alison looked at her hands, an idea springing to mind. She felt awkward about it, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She didn't know what else to do. So she timidly pressed her index and middle finger past Emily's lips and into her mouth, pushing her bottom jaw open as she did.

She reached back into her throat and curled her fingertips down her esophagus. She felt Emily's gag reflex tighten around her fingers. Alison used her other hand to gently lift her head and turn her cheek slightly. She moved her fingers back and forth, careful not to constrict her breathing as she massaged her throat, triggering her gag reflex.

"Hey, can you throw up for me, sweetie?"

She gently pushed her fingers forward again and felt Emily gag. Her head lurched and Alison felt a hot liquid pushing past her fingers. She pulled her hand away and turned Emily's body to the side just as the vomit came up. She angled her body so she wouldn't choke on it.

Emily gagged as she threw up. It smelled putrid, yet there was a sweet tinge to it, like alcohol. Alison glanced at the pile of throw up and saw that the pills she'd taken were mostly dissolved. Her heart sank. There was a lot of poison in her blood stream. She was definitely going to need to get her stomach pumped.

She heard a groan and when she leaned over to check on her, Emily's eyes were half open. From what Alison could see of them in the lowly lit bridge they were a shade of deep brown with swirls of chocolate colored flecks.

"Hell has angels?" Emily mumbled, her eyes closing again.

"Stay with me. Can you open your eyes back up for me?"

Emily's head dropped and her body started jerking. Her neck snapped violently to the side and her muscles tensed and curled in various positions as the seizure intensified. All Alison could do was try to keep her from slamming her head against the ground.

Alison heard the ambulance doors slamming. She could see red lights flashing in the distance.

"Over here!" She yelled loudly, trying to keep Emily's convulsing body from hitting the hard pavement. "We're over here!"

The paramedics swiftly went to work, giving her an anti-convulsant and stabilizing her for transport. They quickly got her loaded on to the stretcher and started up the hill with her. Alison walked along beside them. When they got to the ambulance Alison looked at one of the paramedics.

"I'd like to stay with her."

She felt a strong sensation to see this through. She also thought about how Emily had told her on the phone that she didn't want to die alone. She didn't want to be alone.

"Who are you?" The paramedic asked.

It was an innocent enough question, but it still made Alison puff up in defense. Their first priority should be keeping the girl alive, not grilling witnesses.

"I'm the woman who has been keeping her alive." She snapped. She realized she was coming off too aggressive, her fear and worry making her angry. She quickly softened her tone. "I'm the person who told you where she was. And I told her that I would stay with her."

"Okay. We'll make room in the rig." The paramedic nodded. "What's her name?"

Alison looked down at the brunette. She reached for her hand, a strange instinctual reaction that happened without her even thinking about it.

"Emily."

"Alright, Emily, we're going to get you to the hospital and get you taken care of, okay?" The paramedic leaned over the unconscious girl.

There was no response. Emily was unconscious for most of the ride. But when they neared the hospital she started groaning and her eyes slowly opened. The first thing she saw was Alison leaning over her.

"Hey, you're going to be okay."

Emily recognized her voice immediately.

"You…" Emily squinted. "Alison?"

Alison was surprised that Emily was coherent enough to recognize her voice.

"Yeah, I…"

"You…" Emily groaned and then opened her mouth, "…you should have just let me die."

She moaned again, louder this time. Her body felt like it was on fire. Her back arched up and then her body slammed back down. Her eyes rolled backwards and her head started jerking as her body convulsed.

"She's seizing again."

The paramedics pushed Alison out of the way and went to work on Emily again. When they got to the hospital they rushed her into the ER. Alison followed them. They told her to have a seat in the waiting room.

Alison wanted to ignore them, but she knew the rules. She'd been working with a volunteer program that worked out of the hospital for years. She knew the hospital would kick her ass out if she didn't listen. So she sat down and waited.

The update came an hour later when a physician came out looking for Emily's family. Alison didn't recognize the physician, so she lied and said they were family. She knew that a lot of the doctors who worked in the ER were moonlighting from other places. Half the time the doctors didn't ask twice, something else she'd learned from coming and going through the ER.

"We pumped her stomach and gave her some activated charcoal to counteract the toxicity in her system." She explained. "It was a very close call. We still don't know if she's going to have organ damage or not. We'll monitor her closely while she's here for the mandatory Psych hold."

"72 hours, right?" Alison knew the drill.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Is she awake?"

"Awake, yes. Coherent…not entirely."

"Can I see her before they take her to Psych?"

"I'm sorry, who did you say you were again?" The physician questioned.

"Is Doctor Barrow in?" Alison asked, trying to change the subject.

She worked on the volunteer program with him from time to time.

"No. He's on vacation for the week."

"What about Joan?"

"The charge nurse? No, she's on the day shift. Do you work here?" The woman looked confused.

"No. I just…"

"If you don't work here and you're not an immediate family member…"

Alison could see that the doctor was wavering, so she quickly interjected another plea before she could say no.

"Please? I work in the volunteer program in mental health services. I deal with the therapy sessions. And I think it might help for her to know that she's not alone."

That was something that most people who called had in common. They all felt isolated, alone, like no one could see them. She wanted Emily to know she saw her.

"I won't be long. I promise." She smiled. It had always been her secret weapon. It was a smile that had taught her to get through many barricades…to get her whatever she wanted.

The doctor nodded silently. She took Alison to get a visitors badge and then led her down the hall. They stopped short of getting to Emily's room.

"Is she someone special to you?"

"She is." Alison answered without hesitation. And it wasn't a lie. Because wasn't everyone special?

"She's in and out of consciousness and she's been restrained for her safety and the safety of those around her…"

"With all due respect, you can spare me the speech. I know how it goes." It wasn't Alison's first trip into the darkest parts of the hospital.

The doctor nodded again. She took Alison into Emily's room.

Seeing Emily in the pale lighting of the room she could see her exposed in a way she hadn't seen under the bridge or in the ambulance. She was stocky and muscular, but in the tiny hospital bed she looked so small and fragile.

She was dressed in a hospital gown. She had a nasal cannula in her nose delivering fresh oxygen and she had lines leading underneath her gown feeding information to a heart monitor and several other machines.

The bed was slightly propped up and she was resting with her cheek against the pillow. The hospital blanket was pulled up to her waist, but Alison could still see the soft restraints tying her to the bed. Her feet were covered, but Alison knew she was restrained by her ankles as well.

She could see the scars of war standing out against her dark skin. They painted her in a unique light. Her life had been filled with near misses and untold stories of survival and determination. She had a powerful hidden beauty somewhere deep down in the darkness. The doctor saw Alison staring at the exposed scars.

"X-Rays showed shrapnel lodged in her ribs and a bullet in her shoulder. She clearly saw her fair share of action." The doctor sighed. "Explains the suicide attempt. But other than that we haven't been able to get much out of her as far as her history goes. I don't suppose you can help us fill in the blanks?"

Crap, if she finds out you don't even know her…

"I think it would be best coming from her." Alison thought quickly on her feet. "I'm simply here as a friend."

"I'll give you a few minutes," the doctor said quietly. "But be advised, she might not wake up. And if she does she might not recognize you."

Alison had to hold back a dark laugh, because even if the girl was coherent she probably wouldn't recognize her. Though, she had known who she was in the ambulance…

"Understood." But before she could turn to face the physician she was gone.

Alison heard the soft tapping of shoes pacing down the hallway. She glanced around at the hospital room. The walls were a soothing light shade of grayish-blue. There was a framed photo of an ocean with a rainbow over it hanging on the wall.

She walked over to Emily's bedside. She listened to the sound of the monitors as she watched Emily slowly breathing. Just looking at her she could see that life had hardened her, but she had the softest face.

She saw Emily flinch, and before she could stop herself she was reaching out and touching her cheek to try and comfort her.

To her surprise, Emily's eyes opened. Her eyes immediately found Alison's eyes.

"Hey. How are you feeling?" Alison asked, gently pulling her hand back.

"How do you think?"

She was angry. Alison wasn't surprised. Anger was common.

"Is there someone I can call for you?" Alison asked.

"I don't have anyone." Emily mumbled. "If there was do you think I would have swallowed a gallon of pills?" She glanced at Alison, annoyed. "Why didn't you just let me die?" She didn't deserve to live. "I wanted to die."

"I know you feel that way now…"

"You don't know shit." Emily snapped.

It wasn't a surprise to Alison. She knew that people who were depressed and suicidal lashed out.

"You don't know me. You don't know my life…" She snarled, turning her head so the light hit her eyes.

The flash from the bulb caused her vision to go white. She gasped and pulled against the restraints around her wrists. She felt her stomach churning. The poison of the drugs was out of her system, but the lingering effects of the medications were still causing monstrous hallucinations.

She saw flashes of her worst nightmares. Only they weren't nightmares. They were real. She saw blood. Bodies. The flashes came faster and her breathing became erratic. Suddenly, she was back at home. She was trapped within the pain and she couldn't get away.

"Emily, are you okay?" Alison reached out to touch her, but hesitated when she realized it might make her panic worse.

"No, no, please no." Her head jerked to the side. She pulled harder against the restraints, grunting and crying out.

She couldn't breathe. She was being crushed. Her chest felt tight. She was in hell and she couldn't get out.

"Hey…" Alison slowly reached forward, testing her response to her touch by gently caressing her arm. "Hey, it's okay."

Emily's flesh felt like hot burning coal. Her body was dripping with sweat. Her face was clenched tightly. She looked like she was in pain. Alison carefully rubbed her arm, and to her surprise Emily stopped thrashing. She was still fighting against the restraints, but she was settling down.

Alison tested her even further when she moved her palm up to Emily's cheek to wipe away some of the sweat that had accumulated there.

The brunette glanced at the blonde standing over her. There was something about her that made her feel calm, safe. She hadn't felt that in a long time. She'd had a problem with people touching her almost her entire life. But she didn't recoil from Alison. Was it the drugs?

She blinked slowly. Her breathing was still uneven. But she was slowly coming down from it.

"You don't…you don't know me." Emily said again, shivering, both from the detox of the drugs and from the hallucinations.

"I know." Alison paused, her eyes fixed in on Emily's, trying to keep her grounded in reality. "But I'd like to get to know you, Emily."

Emily stared at her, unsure whether or not what she was seeing and hearing was real. She suddenly felt drowsy. The panic attack had drained her energy. Her eyelids started to get heavy. She blinked heavily once...twice. The third time she looked up at Alison and then sighed. She could still feel the woman's palm against her cheek as her head rolled to the side. She drifted out of consciousness.

"Everything is going to be okay." She heard her say.

And for some reason, Emily believed her. But she wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. She'd survived a war. She didn't know if she could survive life.

A/N: I know there is a lot to digest in this first chapter. This fic is going to be very hard to stomach at times. I 100% understand if it's too much for some people. My first priority is my readers. So if you can't do it, don't. I tackled this prompt because I like to challenge myself. I'm no stranger to writing dark themes, but this is by far the darkest. It's been extremely hard to write and edit. I imagine it is just as hard to read.

If you struggle with anxiety, depression, and suicidal thoughts please know that you're not alone and that there are resources out there. The National Suicide Prevention Hotline is (1) 800-273-8255. I have no idea if it's against the rules to post the number here, but I honestly don't give a fuck about the rules when it comes to mental health. Take care of yourselves.

For those of you who follow my other stories, I want you to know that I *do* plan on getting the alternate Epilogue up in "In Her Eyes" and yes, I am still working on "The Heart of Beacon Heights".