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CHAPTER TWO ( forgive me, father )
WHEN NATALIE WAS EIGHT YEARS OLD, SHE LEARNED HOW TO CONFESS TO HER SINS.
The months after her mother's death were rough, just like the red handprints on her neck which didn't fade until long after she'd left the hospital. The pain wasn't the worst part, though. Not even close.
It was the memories.
Her father had forced her to go to church every Sunday morning after she was released, no matter how many of her Saturday nights were spent screaming for her mom, or forgetting how to breathe, or hiding under her bed, or feverishly asking when she'd get to talk to 'Agent Aaron' again.
Even then, Natalie admired Hotch more than she did anyone else. He was the only person who cared enough to save her. Well, tried to, anyway.
The memory always started the same, with James clothing her in a pretty dress for the eyes of the priest, curling her hair and pinning the front pieces back with a heart-shaped clip.
(Coincidentally, how her mother used to wear it.)
You look beautiful princess, he'd told her, calloused fingers stroking her cheek, urging her towards the front doors of the House of God. Now, go ahead. Don't be shy.
Vaguely, Natalie could recall not being scared anymore. Because fathers always loved their daughters, and he wouldn't let someone he loved get hurt, would he?
Only, that was before he took her straight to the confession booth, coercing her with a heavy hand to tell Father Michael how she'd come face to face with the devil in the few minutes she'd been dead.
The fear came back at full force after that.
"That's not what happened," Natalie had told him worriedly, her neck craned all the way to the side so she could look him in the eyes. It was required that she did; it showed respect, even if it made her uncomfortable, even if she could barely move in the restricted space. "It was just dark, then I woke up. I didn't see anybody."
The absence of the light people often spoke about hadn't bothered her, up until then. She just assumed death ended in nothingness for everyone.
James had grabbed her roughly by the shoulder, a mere fraction of a second after she spoke, citing the Bible with enough fervency that even the priest on the other side of the booth shifted in his seat.
