You're Lost Little Girl [FanFic]
Title: You're Lost Little Girl
Author: Tooks
Pairing: Hotch/Prentiss/Foyet (friendship), JJ
Rating: FRT
Summary: It was different when she drew and wrote her poems; those things came natural to her and she felt good doing them. Emily was proud of the things she created. Art she did for her. Just her.
Notes: This is my third major piece from my latest AU, "Crazy Is As Crazy Does"...my first youth-based one that's set in a mental facility circa late 1960s/early 1970s. Story title is from a 1967 The Doors song. Some of Emily's background is influenced by pink_siamese's Drawn In Slow Strokes and the poem at the beginning is an adjustment of one in that story. (You don't have to read Pink's story to understand this, but it's a good story, haha!) Anyway this is all still experimental on my part so I'd love some (helpful) feedback. ^_^
3 September, 1969
There once was a girl on Nantucket
Her will fell apart so she shucked it.
Haunted by mist,
Bloodstains on her wrists;
They lifted her shame and they sucked it.
I had that dream again, the one about Francesca and the minnows that slip in and out of the wound. In other dreams they reminded me of little needles, little needles trying to sew a beauty back together.
Not this time though.
This time the minnows were tongues; tiny tongues licking up blood, licking the slice in the flesh of her breast like a lover would. It made me want to kneel down in the water beside her, touch her, taste the hot Italian sun on her plum lips and wet heat of the river on her chest.
I woke up hot, sweaty, throbbing. I woke up so close I swore if a single person touched me I’d have come. Instead I did it; I tried to think first of George, then Amber, but in the end my mind fell back onto Francesca and the dream.
It’d be so much simpler to just say it’s just a twist in the memory of Francesca, of how beautiful she’d been, and how I last saw her that day but
That’s not it. Not even close.
Please believe me
The river told me
Very softly
Want you to hold me
…
On and on it goes
Breath under water ‘till the end
Yes, the river knows…
~ Yes, the river knows, The Doors
***
Emily set her journal back into the top drawer of her desk, smoothed out her red shift dress to make sure she wasn’t showing anything she could get reprimanded for, and headed out of the room. She didn’t get more than two steps before JJ popped up. “Hey Em!”
Emily nearly jumped, but then she smiled. “Hi JJ.”
JJ nearly bounced herself out of the platforms she got for her thirteenth birthday as over-sized peace sign earrings she’d yet to return to Pen swung wildly from her little lobes. “Most the girls already headed down to breakfast, well except for Lila, of course, ‘cause she thinks she’s getting fat again but the others are down at breakfast.” Her tie-dyed shirt screamed her mania as much as her rapid speech and high volume.
“Not you though?”
“Thought I’d wait for you so you’d have a buddy to go with. Unless you don’t want that, if you don’t want a buddy that’s okay, I can just go.”
“I don’t mind a buddy, JJ.” Emily laughed a touch. “You off your meds?”
JJ gave a devious grin. “Maybe.”
“You’re totally manic.”
“Oh my god, is it noticeable?!”
Emily tried not to laugh more. “Just a little.”
“Promise not to tell?”
“Promise.”
JJ hated her meds; she hated living in a fog, her instincts stuck in quicksand. It was like being an emotional zombie, the feelings were just impersonations compared to what they could be off the meds. Without those pills JJ could feel every subtle emotion she had and with such an intensity that she sometimes felt she was buzzing with it. The girl could enjoy the highest high that only acid could otherwise provide when her bloodstream was cleared of meds…sadly she tended to forget about the suicidal lows that sometimes followed.
“We have art therapy today, you stoked?”
Emily laughed. “You’re not?”
“Oh my god, no, I am!”
“Yeah, me too,” Emily smiled back. Art was one of the only things she consistently enjoyed about the institute and not just because of the handsomely scruffy bohemian therapist, Dr Ethan Bellamy. (Though it wasn’t often that a shrink was both hip and young enough that a girl didn’t have to question her “daddy issues” for crushing on him.)
Art was something the teen did for pleasure; it was a way she could express herself without feeling the need to censor for fear of what the staff would think and it was something she felt she was good at.
Emily rarely felt she was truly skilled at anything and those that she was skilled at came out of necessity. She spoke several languages because she’d lived all over the world and had to. She could charm and navigate through social structures with little difficulty because her mother used her as a political pawn and pawns must always be complementary to their queens.
It was different when she drew and painted and wrote her poems; those things came natural to her and she felt good doing them. Emily was proud of the things she created. Art she did for her. Just her.
***
PATIENT INTAKE FORM
Date: June 8, 1967
Patient: Emily Elizabeth Prentiss
DOB: October 12, 1953
Gender: Female
Age: 14
Marital Status: Single
Place of Examination: Formative Behavioral Institute
Presenting Problem: Emily is a 14-year-old Caucasian female who was admitted on the request her mother, Elizabeth Prentiss, due to her promiscuity and possible addiction to illicit substances. A letter from Ms Prentiss also indicates a concern over her daughter’s sexuality.
Emily describes herself as “content” and “a fairly decent teenage girl given the circumstances” claiming that her mother “just stuffed me in here so she doesn’t have to deal with me”. When asked to elaborate she shrugs and says her mother finds her behavior embarrassing to the family and the woman’s political career. Upon being pressed further Emily states that she just wanted to be her own person, do things differently, and “apparently that’s a crime now.”
Behavioral Observations: Emily was brought into the institute by one of her mother’s State Department assigned bodyguards. The girl was clean, well-dressed, and appeared well cared for. Emily was polite on the surface, but rarely smiled and seemed alternatively bored and aggravated by her situation and those around her.
Family History: Emily’s parents, Todd and Elizabeth Prentiss, are separated with Mr Prentiss living and working in Europe as a cultural attaché while Mrs. Prentiss travels with Emily for her ambassadorship. This family arrangement has been unchanged since Emily was approximately 8 years old yet the homelife still classifies as unstable. Emily has been made to move frequently both inside & outside the US and her mother is rarely available for her due to work. Often Emily is left in the care of house staff or bodyguards, both of whom she seems easily able to avoid if she wishes.
Emily admits that her constant moving is chaotic, but also points out it is the norm for her. When asked if she’d prefer a move stable home situation she confesses she would. She also confesses to missing her father deeply and being hurt that he frequently does not return her calls.
Relationship History: Emily has been in a number of sexual relationships, though it seems only a few would classify as romantic in nature. She states that her first sexual experience was when she was approximately 12 with a boy “a year or two older” and was, by her account, consensual.
It would seem, from documented history & Emily’s own words, she considers sexual activity as a means to gain pleasure & acceptance. When asked about the correlation between sex & love she acknowledges that there is a connection, but states it is neither a connection she is seeking to make or has a desire for. “Love means pain and disappointment, who wants that?”
When confronted with her mother’s suggestion that she may have homosexual tendencies Emily grew angry & exclaimed it was “no one’s business but mine who I fuck!”
Occupational History: Emily has no occupational history to speak of. She receives an allowance, though there seems to be no real expectation that she do anything in exchange for it.
She says she’s not adverse to the concept of working (doing chores, etc) for the money, but as no one has ever assigned her tasks to do she has not bothered to do any.
Medical History: Emily is currently healthy, up on her immunizations, and was documented as having begun her sexual development ahead of her age group. Records also show that Emily recently gave birth…when questioned about this the bodyguard answered that “the baby issue has been dealt with” and disallowed Emily from speaking on it. Upon private questioning Emily would only say, as far as she knew, the baby was alive.
Emily confesses to drinking alcohol, smoking cigarettes, and using drugs both illegal and legal. Drugs used include marijuana, LSD, mushrooms, & Nembutal prescribed for her mother. At the time of admittance Emily tested positive for trace elements of Nembutal - when confronted with test results she confessed she took it “to take the edge off this shit”.
Summary and Differential Diagnostic Impressions: Taking into account Emily’s promiscuity, drug usage, impulsivity, occasional outbursts of anger (some including violence), & an avoidance of abandonment through a series of sexual partners rather than attempts at a true relationship a preliminary diagnosis of borderline personality disorder has been given.
Given Emily’s indifference & possible inability to connect along with occasional sharp contradictions between emotions verbalized and those expressed in facial expression & body language a diagnosis of an avoidant personality disorder may also be appropriate.
In addition Emily may also qualify for sociopathic personality disorder for reasons mentioned above. However the examiner has chosen to leave this option, along with homosexuality, as a rule-out pending further observation.
***
“There was this great writer, Oscar Wilde, who once said ‘Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.’” Dr Bellamy stood at the front of the room with a smile and his John Lennon hippie vibe as the young patients filed in. “It is under that theory that today’s project comes.”
The psychiatrist ran both art and music therapy and was possibly the most popular therapist in the institute. He was relaxed, let staff and patients call him Ethan instead of Dr Bellamy, and rather than just preside over his sessions the psychiatrist joined in. He never asked the patients to do what he would not and was always as honest about himself in the sessions as he expected patients to be.
“Waiting at your seats are masks that we’ll be decorating to represent ourselves along with everything needed to do just that. But before you get all excited at having free reign over the art supplies keep in mind that you will have to explain why your mask is decorated the way it is so…think about it before you start.”
Aaron stared at the blank, white, mask for a full two minutes before announcing. “This is stupid.”
George chuckled beside him as he colored his mask with a black marker between sniffs off it. “Don’t be so close-minded, Madman.”
“The only reason you like it is ‘cause you’re getting high off it,” Aaron snipped back.
The other boy gave a dramatic sigh as he set his mask down and covered the marker and set that down as well before he turned to his friend. “It would be easier for you if it were that simple, wouldn’t it?”
“So that’s not what you’re doing?”
“Not at all.”
“Okay, what are you doing then?” Aaron was still skeptical.
George lifted his mask, examined it as he spoke. “Do you know what black stands for, Aaron?”
“Night?”
Emily gave a small laugh from the other side of Aaron as she colored the lips of the mask to an oxygen-poor lilac; like how she last remembered Francesca's lips. “Now you’re in for it,” she mused.
“Yes, but it’s oh so much more than that. It’s the absence of light. It’s anarchy and ambiguity and secrecy and power and death and -“
“You’re all that?” Aaron cut his friend off with a smile.
“And so much more,” George laughed as he held the mask over his face and dropped his voice to the best growl his now fifteen years would allow. “Are you scared? You should be.”
Both Emily and Aaron gave a chuckle and eye roll. “We’re utterly terrified, George,” Emily smirked out before addressing Aaron as the other boy returned to his coloring and sniffing. “If you don’t know what to do just…do something passable.”
“Passable?”
“Something you can BS about.”
Aaron normally would never entertain the idea, he’d consider it a form of cheating, but he was rather desperate as he looked down at his blank mask and then back at Emily. “Is…is that what you’re doing?”
“Oh, uh…” Emily looked down at her mask; the powder blue tint of the face, the purple of the lips, the soft brown on the bottom lids to make it appear as if there was dirt in the eyes. She decided to confess. “No, not really.”
“It’s pretty.”
“Huh?”
“What you’re doing with the mask. It’s pretty, Emily.”
“Thanks, Aaron.” Emily smiled a touch. She liked Aaron; he was sweet and never seemed to expect something in return. She went back to her piece, but kept an eye open for a way to help Aaron without actually doing it for him (she would if she thought he’d let her though). When the girl noticed Jason’s mask from across the table she nudged a still sulking Aaron. “Why not do what he’s doing?”
Jason had carefully sketched question marks all over his mask and was now coloring them in.
Aaron smiled. “It looks like something The Riddler would have.”
“Who?” Emily gave a confused look.
“He, uh…he’s a Batman villain. Big into question marks.”
“Oh.”
***
ART THERAPY NOTES
Date/Time of Session: September 3, 1969 / 10-11AM
Group Facilitator(s): Dr Ethan Bellamy, PhD
Patients Present: George Foyet, Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Jason Gideon, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, Elle Greenaway, Amber Canardo, Lila Archer
Topic/Activity: Self-Exploration/Self-Discovery/Self-Expression - Patients are given a blank (white) mask that they may decorate however they like in order to have the mask represent themselves. Upon completion the decorated masks are shared and discussed.
Comments: All the patients participated, most without trouble or prompting.
Lila’s mask was marked as if a plastic surgeon were pointing out flaws to be worked on. She also wrote “fat” around the mouth which she'd drawn a large, red, “X” across. Upon discussion Lila confessed that, in the mirror, all she could see were her flaws - “the things I could fix if I was, you know, better or something”.
Amber’s mask was designed to take on the appearance of an alligator. Upon discussion she simply explained that they were the animal she connected with the most from “back home”.
George’s mask was completely black, inside and out. Aside from claiming it was his favorite color George listed off a number of things black could represent/symbolize. When asked which of these things he, personally, connected with the most or thought best represented him he shrugged and replied “all of them”.
Jason covered his mask in question marks for reasons he joked were “self-explanatory”. He also drew a Northern Cardinal on the center of the forehead. When asked about this Jason said he wasn’t quite sure why he did it only that “I like the bird…I think it’s important.”
Elle created a mask based on Greek goddess Artemis who she’d begun learning about in history class. “She’s a chick who’s badass, ya know? She doesn’t take anyone’s shit and she never let’s someone get one over on her and I’d like to think that’s how I am.”
Aaron’s mask was untouched. Initially it was suspected he had not participated, but he claims it was intentional. When asked to elaborate he stated that “white is what happens when you mix all the colors together and sometimes that’s how I feel…like I’m everyone else’s…whatever…all mixed together.” When pointed out that his statement implied that he was not his own person Aaron just shrugged and grew quiet.
JJ’s mask was split in half, one side brightly colored and the other a dull blue with wisps of red and dark blue. She explained that the bright side was for when she was really happy and felt good about herself while the other side was when she was depressed.
Derek transformed his mask into a “football warrior” with black lines under the eyes and other streaks of red, blue, and green over the cheeks, chin, and forehead of the mask. During discussion Derek explained that the mask was more a representation of how he felt while playing sports, but wished “I had the feeling all the time 'cause on the field is when I feel the best and strongest”.
Emily seemed to have turned her mask into a death mask of someone, though she would not say whom. Upon being pressed Emily confessed it was someone she once knew but was not related to - she refused to elaborate any further. When asked why she chose to decorate her mask in the dead image of someone she wasn’t related to Emily merely shrugged, claimed “I don’t know”, and then refused to speak after that.
Spencer made a strong effort to understand the assigned task, though it seemed a touch beyond his grasp. Rather than having the mask really represent him as a person he wrote out math equations that were currently in his head over it.
Concerns/Follow-Up: Lila’s therapy for her self-esteem issues may need to become more intensive & a possible rule-out for minor anxiety &/or depression may be required.
It is suggested that Aaron’s one-on-ones focus on himself more. Perhaps excluding talk of family & friends completely for a session or two.
Check compliance &/or dosage on JJ’s meds - her behavior indicated slight mania.
Spencer needs further instruction on the difference between thoughts, feelings, & personality - what is currently on a person’s mind & who that person is as an individual. Look into possible exercises to help.
Emily’s mask concerns as does her refusal to discuss it. This needs to be brought up & discussed on her next one-on-one.
George spent a good portion taking sniffs off the markers - check if he is self-medicating in other ways as well.
***
Emily left art therapy flanked by George and Aaron. George had already begun to pester her about her mask so the girl focused on Aaron. She smiled. “Looks like you passed.”
“Oh…yeah,” Aaron smiled back.
“Yeah, ya know, that really was pretty clever there, Madman. Not touching your mask and then all bullshittin’ your way through the discussion talking about white and all the colors mixing and crap,” George chimed in, almost legitimately impressed.
“Thanks,” Aaron muttered some. A few more steps down the hall and he confessed. “But I wasn’t, uh, bullshitting, exactly.”
Emily’s smile turned a touch sad. “You really feel that way, Aaron? Like you’re everyone else’s…whatever?”
“Kinda, yeah. I mean…I feel like…like I’m so busy trying to meet everyone else’s expectations and, uh, satisfying everyone else’s needs and wants and stuff that I, uh…” the boy shrugged. “I don’t even have time to form my own, I guess.”
The trio fell silent for a moment. Emily rubbed Aaron’s back and muttered that she understood, though she really wasn’t sure she did. She’d stopped really caring what others thought some years ago. Still, it seemed the nice thing to do and say.
George just walked in silence until he felt the moment over, then he nearly jumped in front of the other two. “So what was yours all about, Em?” he asked as he began to walk backwards.
“What was my what all about?”
“Your mask, the death mask.”
Emily shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Had to be about something.”
Aaron shot George a glare. “Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it?”
“Aaron, we’re her best friends, she should feel comfortable telling us anything,” George insisted. He stepped between the other two and threw his arm around Emily’s shoulders to pull her to him. “Come on, Em. Aaron did his little ‘woe is me’ explanation, now you do yours.”
Emily shifted out of George’s hold and gave him a shove. “Fuck off,” she growled out before running off ahead.
“Nice going, jackass,” Aaron scowled.
“What’d I do?!” George threw up his hands with a slight chuckle.
"When you find yourself locked onto an unpleasant train of thought, heading for the places in your past where the screaming is unbearable, remember there's always madness. Madness is the emergency exit." ~ Alan Moore's Joker in Batman: The Killing Joke
Author: Tooks
Pairing: Hotch/Prentiss/Foyet (friendship), JJ
Rating: FRT
Summary: It was different when she drew and wrote her poems; those things came natural to her and she felt good doing them. Emily was proud of the things she created. Art she did for her. Just her.
Notes: This is my third major piece from my latest AU, "Crazy Is As Crazy Does"...my first youth-based one that's set in a mental facility circa late 1960s/early 1970s. Story title is from a 1967 The Doors song. Some of Emily's background is influenced by pink_siamese's Drawn In Slow Strokes and the poem at the beginning is an adjustment of one in that story. (You don't have to read Pink's story to understand this, but it's a good story, haha!) Anyway this is all still experimental on my part so I'd love some (helpful) feedback. ^_^
3 September, 1969
There once was a girl on Nantucket
Her will fell apart so she shucked it.
Haunted by mist,
Bloodstains on her wrists;
They lifted her shame and they sucked it.
I had that dream again, the one about Francesca and the minnows that slip in and out of the wound. In other dreams they reminded me of little needles, little needles trying to sew a beauty back together.
Not this time though.
This time the minnows were tongues; tiny tongues licking up blood, licking the slice in the flesh of her breast like a lover would. It made me want to kneel down in the water beside her, touch her, taste the hot Italian sun on her plum lips and wet heat of the river on her chest.
I woke up hot, sweaty, throbbing. I woke up so close I swore if a single person touched me I’d have come. Instead I did it; I tried to think first of George, then Amber, but in the end my mind fell back onto Francesca and the dream.
It’d be so much simpler to just say it’s just a twist in the memory of Francesca, of how beautiful she’d been, and how I last saw her that day but
That’s not it. Not even close.
Please believe me
The river told me
Very softly
Want you to hold me
…
On and on it goes
Breath under water ‘till the end
Yes, the river knows…
~ Yes, the river knows, The Doors
***
Emily set her journal back into the top drawer of her desk, smoothed out her red shift dress to make sure she wasn’t showing anything she could get reprimanded for, and headed out of the room. She didn’t get more than two steps before JJ popped up. “Hey Em!”
Emily nearly jumped, but then she smiled. “Hi JJ.”
JJ nearly bounced herself out of the platforms she got for her thirteenth birthday as over-sized peace sign earrings she’d yet to return to Pen swung wildly from her little lobes. “Most the girls already headed down to breakfast, well except for Lila, of course, ‘cause she thinks she’s getting fat again but the others are down at breakfast.” Her tie-dyed shirt screamed her mania as much as her rapid speech and high volume.
“Not you though?”
“Thought I’d wait for you so you’d have a buddy to go with. Unless you don’t want that, if you don’t want a buddy that’s okay, I can just go.”
“I don’t mind a buddy, JJ.” Emily laughed a touch. “You off your meds?”
JJ gave a devious grin. “Maybe.”
“You’re totally manic.”
“Oh my god, is it noticeable?!”
Emily tried not to laugh more. “Just a little.”
“Promise not to tell?”
“Promise.”
JJ hated her meds; she hated living in a fog, her instincts stuck in quicksand. It was like being an emotional zombie, the feelings were just impersonations compared to what they could be off the meds. Without those pills JJ could feel every subtle emotion she had and with such an intensity that she sometimes felt she was buzzing with it. The girl could enjoy the highest high that only acid could otherwise provide when her bloodstream was cleared of meds…sadly she tended to forget about the suicidal lows that sometimes followed.
“We have art therapy today, you stoked?”
Emily laughed. “You’re not?”
“Oh my god, no, I am!”
“Yeah, me too,” Emily smiled back. Art was one of the only things she consistently enjoyed about the institute and not just because of the handsomely scruffy bohemian therapist, Dr Ethan Bellamy. (Though it wasn’t often that a shrink was both hip and young enough that a girl didn’t have to question her “daddy issues” for crushing on him.)
Art was something the teen did for pleasure; it was a way she could express herself without feeling the need to censor for fear of what the staff would think and it was something she felt she was good at.
Emily rarely felt she was truly skilled at anything and those that she was skilled at came out of necessity. She spoke several languages because she’d lived all over the world and had to. She could charm and navigate through social structures with little difficulty because her mother used her as a political pawn and pawns must always be complementary to their queens.
It was different when she drew and painted and wrote her poems; those things came natural to her and she felt good doing them. Emily was proud of the things she created. Art she did for her. Just her.
***
PATIENT INTAKE FORM
Date: June 8, 1967
Patient: Emily Elizabeth Prentiss
DOB: October 12, 1953
Gender: Female
Age: 14
Marital Status: Single
Place of Examination: Formative Behavioral Institute
Presenting Problem: Emily is a 14-year-old Caucasian female who was admitted on the request her mother, Elizabeth Prentiss, due to her promiscuity and possible addiction to illicit substances. A letter from Ms Prentiss also indicates a concern over her daughter’s sexuality.
Emily describes herself as “content” and “a fairly decent teenage girl given the circumstances” claiming that her mother “just stuffed me in here so she doesn’t have to deal with me”. When asked to elaborate she shrugs and says her mother finds her behavior embarrassing to the family and the woman’s political career. Upon being pressed further Emily states that she just wanted to be her own person, do things differently, and “apparently that’s a crime now.”
Behavioral Observations: Emily was brought into the institute by one of her mother’s State Department assigned bodyguards. The girl was clean, well-dressed, and appeared well cared for. Emily was polite on the surface, but rarely smiled and seemed alternatively bored and aggravated by her situation and those around her.
Family History: Emily’s parents, Todd and Elizabeth Prentiss, are separated with Mr Prentiss living and working in Europe as a cultural attaché while Mrs. Prentiss travels with Emily for her ambassadorship. This family arrangement has been unchanged since Emily was approximately 8 years old yet the homelife still classifies as unstable. Emily has been made to move frequently both inside & outside the US and her mother is rarely available for her due to work. Often Emily is left in the care of house staff or bodyguards, both of whom she seems easily able to avoid if she wishes.
Emily admits that her constant moving is chaotic, but also points out it is the norm for her. When asked if she’d prefer a move stable home situation she confesses she would. She also confesses to missing her father deeply and being hurt that he frequently does not return her calls.
Relationship History: Emily has been in a number of sexual relationships, though it seems only a few would classify as romantic in nature. She states that her first sexual experience was when she was approximately 12 with a boy “a year or two older” and was, by her account, consensual.
It would seem, from documented history & Emily’s own words, she considers sexual activity as a means to gain pleasure & acceptance. When asked about the correlation between sex & love she acknowledges that there is a connection, but states it is neither a connection she is seeking to make or has a desire for. “Love means pain and disappointment, who wants that?”
When confronted with her mother’s suggestion that she may have homosexual tendencies Emily grew angry & exclaimed it was “no one’s business but mine who I fuck!”
Occupational History: Emily has no occupational history to speak of. She receives an allowance, though there seems to be no real expectation that she do anything in exchange for it.
She says she’s not adverse to the concept of working (doing chores, etc) for the money, but as no one has ever assigned her tasks to do she has not bothered to do any.
Medical History: Emily is currently healthy, up on her immunizations, and was documented as having begun her sexual development ahead of her age group. Records also show that Emily recently gave birth…when questioned about this the bodyguard answered that “the baby issue has been dealt with” and disallowed Emily from speaking on it. Upon private questioning Emily would only say, as far as she knew, the baby was alive.
Emily confesses to drinking alcohol, smoking cigarettes, and using drugs both illegal and legal. Drugs used include marijuana, LSD, mushrooms, & Nembutal prescribed for her mother. At the time of admittance Emily tested positive for trace elements of Nembutal - when confronted with test results she confessed she took it “to take the edge off this shit”.
Summary and Differential Diagnostic Impressions: Taking into account Emily’s promiscuity, drug usage, impulsivity, occasional outbursts of anger (some including violence), & an avoidance of abandonment through a series of sexual partners rather than attempts at a true relationship a preliminary diagnosis of borderline personality disorder has been given.
Given Emily’s indifference & possible inability to connect along with occasional sharp contradictions between emotions verbalized and those expressed in facial expression & body language a diagnosis of an avoidant personality disorder may also be appropriate.
In addition Emily may also qualify for sociopathic personality disorder for reasons mentioned above. However the examiner has chosen to leave this option, along with homosexuality, as a rule-out pending further observation.
***
“There was this great writer, Oscar Wilde, who once said ‘Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.’” Dr Bellamy stood at the front of the room with a smile and his John Lennon hippie vibe as the young patients filed in. “It is under that theory that today’s project comes.”
The psychiatrist ran both art and music therapy and was possibly the most popular therapist in the institute. He was relaxed, let staff and patients call him Ethan instead of Dr Bellamy, and rather than just preside over his sessions the psychiatrist joined in. He never asked the patients to do what he would not and was always as honest about himself in the sessions as he expected patients to be.
“Waiting at your seats are masks that we’ll be decorating to represent ourselves along with everything needed to do just that. But before you get all excited at having free reign over the art supplies keep in mind that you will have to explain why your mask is decorated the way it is so…think about it before you start.”
Aaron stared at the blank, white, mask for a full two minutes before announcing. “This is stupid.”
George chuckled beside him as he colored his mask with a black marker between sniffs off it. “Don’t be so close-minded, Madman.”
“The only reason you like it is ‘cause you’re getting high off it,” Aaron snipped back.
The other boy gave a dramatic sigh as he set his mask down and covered the marker and set that down as well before he turned to his friend. “It would be easier for you if it were that simple, wouldn’t it?”
“So that’s not what you’re doing?”
“Not at all.”
“Okay, what are you doing then?” Aaron was still skeptical.
George lifted his mask, examined it as he spoke. “Do you know what black stands for, Aaron?”
“Night?”
Emily gave a small laugh from the other side of Aaron as she colored the lips of the mask to an oxygen-poor lilac; like how she last remembered Francesca's lips. “Now you’re in for it,” she mused.
“Yes, but it’s oh so much more than that. It’s the absence of light. It’s anarchy and ambiguity and secrecy and power and death and -“
“You’re all that?” Aaron cut his friend off with a smile.
“And so much more,” George laughed as he held the mask over his face and dropped his voice to the best growl his now fifteen years would allow. “Are you scared? You should be.”
Both Emily and Aaron gave a chuckle and eye roll. “We’re utterly terrified, George,” Emily smirked out before addressing Aaron as the other boy returned to his coloring and sniffing. “If you don’t know what to do just…do something passable.”
“Passable?”
“Something you can BS about.”
Aaron normally would never entertain the idea, he’d consider it a form of cheating, but he was rather desperate as he looked down at his blank mask and then back at Emily. “Is…is that what you’re doing?”
“Oh, uh…” Emily looked down at her mask; the powder blue tint of the face, the purple of the lips, the soft brown on the bottom lids to make it appear as if there was dirt in the eyes. She decided to confess. “No, not really.”
“It’s pretty.”
“Huh?”
“What you’re doing with the mask. It’s pretty, Emily.”
“Thanks, Aaron.” Emily smiled a touch. She liked Aaron; he was sweet and never seemed to expect something in return. She went back to her piece, but kept an eye open for a way to help Aaron without actually doing it for him (she would if she thought he’d let her though). When the girl noticed Jason’s mask from across the table she nudged a still sulking Aaron. “Why not do what he’s doing?”
Jason had carefully sketched question marks all over his mask and was now coloring them in.
Aaron smiled. “It looks like something The Riddler would have.”
“Who?” Emily gave a confused look.
“He, uh…he’s a Batman villain. Big into question marks.”
“Oh.”
***
ART THERAPY NOTES
Date/Time of Session: September 3, 1969 / 10-11AM
Group Facilitator(s): Dr Ethan Bellamy, PhD
Patients Present: George Foyet, Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Jason Gideon, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, Elle Greenaway, Amber Canardo, Lila Archer
Topic/Activity: Self-Exploration/Self-Discovery/Self-Expression - Patients are given a blank (white) mask that they may decorate however they like in order to have the mask represent themselves. Upon completion the decorated masks are shared and discussed.
Comments: All the patients participated, most without trouble or prompting.
Lila’s mask was marked as if a plastic surgeon were pointing out flaws to be worked on. She also wrote “fat” around the mouth which she'd drawn a large, red, “X” across. Upon discussion Lila confessed that, in the mirror, all she could see were her flaws - “the things I could fix if I was, you know, better or something”.
Amber’s mask was designed to take on the appearance of an alligator. Upon discussion she simply explained that they were the animal she connected with the most from “back home”.
George’s mask was completely black, inside and out. Aside from claiming it was his favorite color George listed off a number of things black could represent/symbolize. When asked which of these things he, personally, connected with the most or thought best represented him he shrugged and replied “all of them”.
Jason covered his mask in question marks for reasons he joked were “self-explanatory”. He also drew a Northern Cardinal on the center of the forehead. When asked about this Jason said he wasn’t quite sure why he did it only that “I like the bird…I think it’s important.”
Elle created a mask based on Greek goddess Artemis who she’d begun learning about in history class. “She’s a chick who’s badass, ya know? She doesn’t take anyone’s shit and she never let’s someone get one over on her and I’d like to think that’s how I am.”
Aaron’s mask was untouched. Initially it was suspected he had not participated, but he claims it was intentional. When asked to elaborate he stated that “white is what happens when you mix all the colors together and sometimes that’s how I feel…like I’m everyone else’s…whatever…all mixed together.” When pointed out that his statement implied that he was not his own person Aaron just shrugged and grew quiet.
JJ’s mask was split in half, one side brightly colored and the other a dull blue with wisps of red and dark blue. She explained that the bright side was for when she was really happy and felt good about herself while the other side was when she was depressed.
Derek transformed his mask into a “football warrior” with black lines under the eyes and other streaks of red, blue, and green over the cheeks, chin, and forehead of the mask. During discussion Derek explained that the mask was more a representation of how he felt while playing sports, but wished “I had the feeling all the time 'cause on the field is when I feel the best and strongest”.
Emily seemed to have turned her mask into a death mask of someone, though she would not say whom. Upon being pressed Emily confessed it was someone she once knew but was not related to - she refused to elaborate any further. When asked why she chose to decorate her mask in the dead image of someone she wasn’t related to Emily merely shrugged, claimed “I don’t know”, and then refused to speak after that.
Spencer made a strong effort to understand the assigned task, though it seemed a touch beyond his grasp. Rather than having the mask really represent him as a person he wrote out math equations that were currently in his head over it.
Concerns/Follow-Up: Lila’s therapy for her self-esteem issues may need to become more intensive & a possible rule-out for minor anxiety &/or depression may be required.
It is suggested that Aaron’s one-on-ones focus on himself more. Perhaps excluding talk of family & friends completely for a session or two.
Check compliance &/or dosage on JJ’s meds - her behavior indicated slight mania.
Spencer needs further instruction on the difference between thoughts, feelings, & personality - what is currently on a person’s mind & who that person is as an individual. Look into possible exercises to help.
Emily’s mask concerns as does her refusal to discuss it. This needs to be brought up & discussed on her next one-on-one.
George spent a good portion taking sniffs off the markers - check if he is self-medicating in other ways as well.
***
Emily left art therapy flanked by George and Aaron. George had already begun to pester her about her mask so the girl focused on Aaron. She smiled. “Looks like you passed.”
“Oh…yeah,” Aaron smiled back.
“Yeah, ya know, that really was pretty clever there, Madman. Not touching your mask and then all bullshittin’ your way through the discussion talking about white and all the colors mixing and crap,” George chimed in, almost legitimately impressed.
“Thanks,” Aaron muttered some. A few more steps down the hall and he confessed. “But I wasn’t, uh, bullshitting, exactly.”
Emily’s smile turned a touch sad. “You really feel that way, Aaron? Like you’re everyone else’s…whatever?”
“Kinda, yeah. I mean…I feel like…like I’m so busy trying to meet everyone else’s expectations and, uh, satisfying everyone else’s needs and wants and stuff that I, uh…” the boy shrugged. “I don’t even have time to form my own, I guess.”
The trio fell silent for a moment. Emily rubbed Aaron’s back and muttered that she understood, though she really wasn’t sure she did. She’d stopped really caring what others thought some years ago. Still, it seemed the nice thing to do and say.
George just walked in silence until he felt the moment over, then he nearly jumped in front of the other two. “So what was yours all about, Em?” he asked as he began to walk backwards.
“What was my what all about?”
“Your mask, the death mask.”
Emily shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Had to be about something.”
Aaron shot George a glare. “Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it?”
“Aaron, we’re her best friends, she should feel comfortable telling us anything,” George insisted. He stepped between the other two and threw his arm around Emily’s shoulders to pull her to him. “Come on, Em. Aaron did his little ‘woe is me’ explanation, now you do yours.”
Emily shifted out of George’s hold and gave him a shove. “Fuck off,” she growled out before running off ahead.
“Nice going, jackass,” Aaron scowled.
“What’d I do?!” George threw up his hands with a slight chuckle.
"When you find yourself locked onto an unpleasant train of thought, heading for the places in your past where the screaming is unbearable, remember there's always madness. Madness is the emergency exit." ~ Alan Moore's Joker in Batman: The Killing Joke