#Emily: -reclined in a lawn chair wearing sunglasses- I do not feel anything.

[emily-echolls]

A Breaking Point

Summary: The universe finally makes an attempt to get Emily off her bullshit via an emergency room trip. Words: 3,616 Trigger Warnings: Blood, suicidal thoughts, drug use, Emily’s usual fucked up mind state tbqh

 She’d been walking to her Advanced Psychology class, wondering why she was bothering, wishing the abdomen pain she’d been doing her level best to ignore would just go away, cursing Ethan Anderson to hell and back for not giving her the painkillers she’d been self medicating with. Then-

Dizziness and the ground rushing towards her. The distant implication of pain.

Oh my god-!

Someone call Professor Echolls-

No, 911! Call 911! She’s bleeding everywhere-

Pressure on the side of her face and something hot trickling down her neck. A flash of scattered images. Flashing red and blue lights. Words spoke in a familiar, official tone that made something inside her go cold with remembering-

Adult female collapsed on the scene, unresponsive. Head wound from the fall, possible concussion and- Jesus Christ she’s burning up. Does anyone know who she is? Emily? Emily can you hear me? ...Get the gurney ready.

It was too much like the last time. But she hadn’t done anything wrong.

1, 2, 3- Multiple hands lifting her and setting her gently down again. Holy hell she’s light- what’s she weigh- 90 pounds? Someone lifting the hem of her sweatshirt and letting out a low whistle. -give up the damn ghost. You can see her ribs.

Rocking, hairpin turns, impersonal hands on her wrist, forehead, neck. The cool voices of people who had seen far too many emergencies to show any kind of panic. She could tell they were speaking to her, but she couldn’t focus on their words. She caught snatches of words and phrases; Staunch the bleeding- her blood pressure is dangerously low already- get an IV started immediately-

The same sick, nauseated feeling she'd been having all week, a stinging pain on her temple, and wetness coating her face and neck. She didn't know where she was, but it felt as if her body did. It was screaming in a desperate sort of panic and telling her what it knew of what came next; the pain of having her stomach pumped, her father’s hand clutching hers as he slept, thin sheets on hard mattresses, the silent sobs wracking her pained body as she stared into the wonderfully brilliant sunset outside her hospital room. The horrified realization she was still alive despite how desperately she didn’t want to be.

“No!” Gasping in panic, she threw open her heavy eyelids and wrenched away from the faceless people around her, fighting to sit up despite the hands that pushed her back down. She didn’t need to be here- she hadn’t done it. Her broken down, fucked up brain had been a thorny, twisted mess of self harm urges and impulsive thoughts, but she hadn’t done any of it. The goddamn acrobatics she’d been doing to avoid hurting herself had been more exhausting than anything. She’d spent more time in public  than she had in the past year and a half- she’d gone to Julian Lowell’s frat house in the middle of the night, for Christ’s sake. It wasn’t fucking fair.

“I didn’t do anything!” She snarled, lashing out towards the next EMT that tried to touch her and nearly toppling off the gurney she’d been placed on.

She was kitten weak. She realized it as she fearful blows she attempted to land on the paramedic glanced off all but harmlessly. Whatever was wrong with her, it was sapping every spare bit of strength she had. With a muttered curse as Emily attempted to do some damage with her nails at least, her wrists were seized with little effort in strong glove covered hands and slipped into sheepskin lined restraints. It was if her actions had no effect at all. They didn’t care if the body was willing to be treated or not- they were going to heal it one way or another. Whether she liked it or not, she was going to the hospital, and that meant they were going to call her sister- if no one had already.

Making a noise of wordless despair, she fell back against the gurney, the waiting blackness swallowing her again before she could do anything else.

“I didn’t do anything…”

“This is Emilia Echolls. Admitted two days ago after she collapsed; she required ten sutures to her right temple, done with no issues. No concussion. Medical history revealed she was diagnosed a year ago with Lupus which has thus far gone untreated. Restrained due to violence displayed towards first responders and a history of depression and suicidal tendencies. Blood analysis found multiple unprescribed painkillers along with high doses of her normal antidepressants- we’re pretty sure she was self medicating. Came in with an acute kidney infection that looks as if it’s gone septic. We’ve been administering nutrients intravenously, along with several different medications to keep her fever down. She’s been mostly unconscious since she was brought in two days ago. This is her sister Elisha Macdonald- her emergency contact and power of attorney. We-”

“I didn’t...”

Funny, Emily hadn’t made the conscious decision to speak.

A moment of tense silence, a hand tightening in her own, then Elisha’s weary voice;

“She’s said a few things since I got here but she’s still- I’m sorry doctors, but do you have any idea when she’s going to wake up? I just got back from my honeymoon and I’m wondering if I need to call the rest of our family to come down in case anything happens.”

“We’re just keeping her sedated for now. We weren’t optimistic initially, but she seems to be responding well to this round of antibiotics, and we’ve narrowed down the source of infection. I think she’s got a long road ahead of her as far as recovery goes, and she really has got to start getting treated for her illness, but I don’t think she’s in any sort of immediate danger at this point. If they’re able though, she should be waking up in the next day or so- I’m sure she’d love to see them.”

Elisha’s laugh was a sad, weary thing. “No, she wouldn’t. But thank you.”

.

When she had woken up after her suicide attempt, she’d been in agony- the sun had been setting and she’d been surrounded by her sleeping family. This time she was so drugged she could barely lift her hand, but she was blessedly pain free. Outside her small window was full dark, and it was only Elisha watching her warily as she blinked her way to consciousness. At least the gritty eyes and acute misery were the same.

“Emily?”

Emily glanced at her sister, her mind slowly churning its way to awareness and understanding. As soon as she did, and the neutral walls, beeping monitors, and sterile surroundings pieced itself together in her brain, her breathing hitched. She struggled to recall why she was here, vaguely remembered her fall and the ambulance ride. Panic made her breathing hitch slightly and she looked away.

“Why the fuck am I here?” she croaked without preamble, attempting to lift her hand to rip the nasal cannula out of her nose only to be stopped short by the restraints still on her wrist. “And what the fuck is this shit?”

Elisha reached out, no doubt intending to lay a soothing hand on her somewhere, and Emily cringed as far back into the bed as she could. People didn’t touch her- a byproduct of a fearsome reputation and the alienation of people she loved. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done more than brush by her on the street. Laying in a hospital bed having PTSD flashbacks of suicide watch- she didn’t know how she’d react to being touched but was sure it’d be negative. Elisha’s hand fell back against her lap with a soft thump that seemed aggressively loud in the silence that descended on them.

“Get these fucking things off me.”

Elisha’s face hardened and she sat back in her chair, shaking her head and directing her gaze away from Emily. She looked like shit- puffy faced and rumpled. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a messy bun that looked as if it had been slept in, and the bags under her eyes spoke to worrying instead of sleeping.  After a few moments she turned back to her sister with an expression that Emily had long ago learned meant Elisha was absolutely furious. “No.”

“Oh fuck you Lisha,” Emily snarled, tugging futilely against the soft cuffs on her wrists and ankles in something akin to panic. Even that small effort made her head spin and the not quite dissipated pain in her torso flair. “I shouldn’t even be here. I didn’t do anything.”

“Didn’t do-?! Oh!” Elisha stood up, going towards the door to her room and shutting it carefully before marching back over to her sister’s bed. “No Emilia- you didn’t do anything.When you were admitted you were dehydrated and malnourished- so you weren’t eating or drinking enough water, from the bags under your eyes I’d guess you haven’t been sleeping either- you weren’t getting treatment for Lupus. So you’re right. You haven’t done anything. Not one damn thing to take care of yourself- you might not have ‘done anything’ actively, but you’ve been passively killing yourself for an entire goddamn year Emily.”

Sighing in something that was close to defeat, Elisha sat back down in her chair and looked at her, at once searching and fed up. “When were you going to tell us? Or were you ever going to?”

Emily felt as if she were frozen, rooted to her hospital bed. The monitor next her beating in warning as her heart raced. Lupus. It was ice down her spine. Logically she had known what Elisha being there when she woke up had to mean. Still there was no more effective way her sister could have found to shatter her entire world than speaking that word.

Because this was everything she had been avoiding. If Elisha knew everyone knew. If she knew then it was a matter of time before her mother started calling her every week with magazine articles like ‘all natural remedies and diets to help autoimmune diseases’ and ‘five ways to fight depression’, Elizabeth would start looking at her like she had at the festival constantly- like she felt guilty for not understanding her fucked up life. They would forbid her from living on her own, before long the word would get out and there would be the acquaintances she barely knew offering her condolences, what she passed for ‘friends’ treating her like she was made of glass. Dozens of doctor’s appointments, her therapist and the questions Emily had no answers for, and everyone hovering too close while Emily sucked up their time and energy and resented them for their care- because she was fucking broken and couldn’t even love her family right. Exactly like before.

“Emily? Emily calm down, it’s alright.” Elisha’s face swam in front of her face as she leaned over, putting a warm hand on either side of Emily’s face in a would-be soothing way. Emily could remember her doing the same thing when she was little and wordlessly crying over some small childhood drama, her small fingers wiping away her tears. It was kind and familiar and she just couldn’t take that right now. She jerked as far away from her as she could in her limited bindings, a ragged breath tearing it’s way past her lips. The panic that had started when she woke up was starting to take over her rationality.

“Have you told anyone else yet?” She demanded, subconsciously yanking against the restraints again as she tried to make her breathing even out. Every part of her brain was screaming at her to do whatever possible to get away from this conversation- and she was conveniently all but chained to her hospital bed. It was some fucked up kind of fate.

“Not yet.” Elisha said hesitantly, still looking as if she wanted nothing more than to calm her somehow- like her hands were itching to touch her. It was enough to make Emily want to scream. Take these off and get the fuck out. Stop looking at me, stop touching me, stop caring. Finally ive up on me so I can die in peace and not feel so goddamn guilty about it. Please, please, please.

The ragged breath that Emily let out was something closer to a sob. “Then don’t. Please. Just don’t. I don’t want anyone else to know. I’ll do whatever you want Lish, please. I don’t- fuck. I don’t want to live under a goddamn microscope again okay? I didn’t do anything to warrant that- I haven’t done anything to myself. I haven’t been going to my therapy appointments or anything I know but- I’ll start going again. I promise. Just please. I’m literally begging you Lish. Don’t tell anyone else. I can’t do that again Lish, I can’t.”

It wasn’t fair to put on her, and Emily knew it. It was the same kind of selfish shit she’d been pulling her entire life, she just didn’t seem to be able to stop. She was a plague. A goddamn black hole that ruined everything it touched and sucked the life out of everyone who got to close to her bullshit, and no one understood why she pushed them away. She wanted to cling to people just as badly as any other lonely person- but seeing the effect she had on people was worse than dying alone. People hating her for being an asshole was easier to deal with than them resenting her for showing her underbelly and clinging to them.

“Emily…” Elisha’s voice was heartbreakingly tender. It made Emily’s skin crawl. Like she’d flayed herself open and been thanked for her effort. “Emily I can’t do that. You know I can’t do that.”

Emily knew.

That didn’t make it any better.

“Then leave.” she hissed viciously, bunching her hands in the thin bedding that covered her legs.

 Closing her eyes against the stinging threat of tears, she turned away from Elisha as much as she could in the confines of her restraints, ignoring all Elisha’s attempts at conversation until she heard the sound of her sister, crying as she left the room.

Maybe the agony was the same as the first time after all.

Emily’s sleep was abruptly ended by the sound of sensible heels clicking across the room, and the smell of sunflowers and marigolds.

Oh no, no please. I can’t do this. Not after last night. Please.

“Hello, darling.” A slight dip in the bed as a generous frame sat itself by her feet, ignoring the chair waiting at her bedside. The machine that monitored her pulse beeped in warning once again as her heart attempted to pound itself out of her rib cage. She’d thought seeing Elisha was hard, but this? This was so much worse.

“Your sister called me. It’s been a long time. I’ve missed you- I’ve been worried about you.” A hand came out to rest on her knee and Emily jerked away with a bitten off curse, her breath coming out ragged as a gasp.

“Join the fucking club.” She snapped viciously, giving the restraints a hard tug that she’d learned by now was completely useless. She’d attempted to get several different nurses to remove the damn things after Elisha left, but none would. Her sister had convinced them she was a danger to herself.

The morning light was blinding as she opened her eyes, Dr. Dubois’s plump frame and dark hair surrounded by a halo of light that made her look serene and ethereal. It was a stark contrast to the wretched fight or flight reflex that was singing through Emily’s veins. If she could have chewed her own arm off to get out of that room, she would have.

“Oh, I’ve been in that club.” The doctor’s voice was mild, but there was something behind that. Some gentle emotion Emily had no right to. “I’ve been in that club since you were seven years old Emily, one measly year of you avoiding me doesn’t change that. I’ve almost said to hell with confidentiality and called your parents so many times... I- well. When Elisha called me I was happy to hear you were only in the hospital. I’m so sorry to hear about your health, darling.”

Swallowing thickly, Emily looked at the woman who had been until last year one of her sole confidants. She looked different- her hair was shorter, a little grayer, and her eyes were bright with emotion. Without her permission, the tears that she had been biting back and forcing down for the last few months came rushing down her face, undeterrable. “I- I didn’t do it, you know. I didn’t do this to myself.”

The older woman’s face was a gentle as Elisha’s had been as she sighed. “I know darling, I know. But just because you haven’t been self harming doesn’t mean you haven’t been hurting yourself in other ways. You’re a smart woman Emily. I know you know you’re not well right now, you’re just like a cat that hides when it’s hurt and then hisses when someone who wants to help gets too close. It makes things harder on you.”

Dr. Dubois seized a tissue off the end table next to the bed and reached out slowly, giving Emily the option to tell her to stop before dabbing at the tears that Emily couldn’t wipe away, restraind as she was. She was grateful for the help, even if being touched killed her in a way she couldn’t quite explain. “Do you remember what you said to me? The first session we ever had? You said ‘I want to be happy’.”

It was stupid. A stupid innocent, naive thing Emily had said when she was too young and green to know that depression wasn’t the flu- and that taking a pill didn’t make it go away. But she could remember being so small, sitting on a leather couch she had practically grown up on, arms crossed and terrified that this woman and her parents were going to throw her out like a defective toy. She’d gone from fearing that to wishing they had- and she couldn’t remember when she’d started hating herself so goddamn much or if she’d just come out of the womb wishing she’d never taken her first breath.

A small sob broke past Emily’s mouth without her permission, then another, and before long her shoulders were shaking with the force of them. She’d cried plenty since her diagnosis, but she’d never actually grieved. Somehow she’d convinced herself that she’d accepted her fate, but it wasn’t true- she’d just pretended and faked it to herself so it was alright that she wasn’t trying to fight for her own life- so she didn’t have to share it with anyone. Then she’d pushed and shoved everyone away so they hated her, so she didn’t have to feel guilty that she was letting Lupus kill her without a fuss- because there was no one to leave behind. It wasn’t being suicidal if it was just the way things were- or so she’d managed to believe.

“I told you that was the first step, but I was simplifying things. Sometimes it’s hard to even want to be happy, when happiness seems too hard and succumbing to misery so easy.” Dr. Dubois continued. “Sometimes the first step is just admit you need help, and then let people help you.”

Now she was crying harder than she had in months; furious, boiling hot tears spilling down her cheeks faster than Dr. Dubois could wipe them away. Her breath was uneven and her shoulders were shaking with the force of the cries that forced their way past her clenched teeth. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that she’d fought her entire goddamn life just to want to live, it wasn’t fair that she probably would never get to use her degree to help other kids like her, it wasn’t fair she was laying in a hospital bed right now, it wasn’t fair that she was sick, it wasn’t fucking fair she was probably going to die young.

Dr. Dubois scooted up the bed until she could pull her up from her reclined position and let her rest her head against her shoulder, crooning softly as she wrapped her arms around Emily’s bony frame. “There you are, let it out.”

They stayed in that position for some immeasurable amount of time, while Emily cried herself dry and wailed apologies, and half formed explanations of her actions, and cursed the universe that had made her sick in both body and mind but refused to just kill her properly. Dr. Dubois for her part listened quietly, humming soothingly as she rubbed Emily’s back. After a while, she pulled back, stuffy nosed and puffy eyed, and somehow feeling more tired than she’d felt in the entire year of having Lupus.

“I don’t know how much harder things can get before I can’t deal with it anymore.” She sniffed wearily. It was too exhausting now to pretend to be okay.

“I know darling, I know. All we can do is take things one day at a time.”

Over the course of the next few hours, Dr. Dubois called Elisha back in the room, the three of them discussing treatments and medicine changes. Inpatient care was discussed and quickly decided against- so long as Emily and Elisha found somewhere for her to stay that wasn’t by herself and resumed her therapy appointments. (”And this time if you miss more that one a month, I’m calling Elisha and consequences be damned.” Dr. Dubois had warned her grimly.) The therapist spoke with some doctor or another, throwing around words like Lexapro, Zoloft, and Luvox, then left with a quick goodbye and a desire to see her soon.

Emily was left in an awkward silence with Elisha hovering awkwardly near the door. The energy in the room was exhausted, bitter, and more than a little hostile- from both sides. Elisha was still calling her family any minute now. Emily was still furious about it. Between them were words Emily couldn’t take back, Elisha’s misplaced guilt over the state of her little sister’s mind, and permeating everything that coincidental phone call almost six years ago in May that had accidentally saved Emily’s life- the one that neither would apologize for.

After what might have been thirty seconds and might have been fifteen minutes Emily sighed, scooting to the side and patting the mattress next to her. She supposed after a year of hiding away, it was her turn to reach out. “Come here and tell me about your honeymoon. Is Dennis Macdonald just as big of a fucking idiot in Europe as he is in America?”

It wasn’t enough, that was for goddamn sure. The damage Emily had done wasn’t one that could be healed by any number of gestures. Maybe it couldn’t be healed at all. But it was more of an effort than she had made in a year, and for the moment Elisha seemed willing to pretend with her that things might be alright. She perched herself carefully on the edge of Emily’s bed, and Emily extended her hand, letting her seize it between her own. “You leave my sweet husband alone, you. It was amazing.”

For now, it was enough.