Chapter Two

"I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing. Just prayed to a god that I don't believe in."-The Script:Breakeven

 
Run! That was his natural instinct; the only thing in his mind at that minute was to get as far away as possible. He ran over the uneven ground, through the darkness which normally would have scared him, but not now; now he had bigger issues pressing him than his fear of darkness. He could hear them behind him, like a herd. The ground rumbled, their dead weight moving surprisingly fast. Even after all of his training at the FBI, they were gaining on him, ready to claw at him. He kept running.
 
Suddenly, he tripped. He tried to get up, but they were around him, pushing him down and grabbing at his skin and clothes. He could feel their dead, slimy hands on his skin, yet he refused to look at them; knowing that if he did look, he'd have to look at their empty, sorrowful eyes.
 
“Why did you not save me?” they mumbled in unison, like a zombie from a horror film. Their droning voices shook him to his core.
With his eyes blurred from tears and from fear, he screamed, “I’m sorry! I couldn't...I couldn't.”
 
They dragged him backwards slightly, and then turned him onto his back, forcing him to stare into the faces that were cursed to stay in his eidetic memory forever. The faces of those his team - and himself - were too late to save. He squeezed his eyes together, and prayed to a God he didn't believe in to save him.
 
Then the clawing stopped, and he looked up into a naked light bulb. Looking around, his heart skipped a beat.
 
Anywhere but here… please, oh God, help me! He thought frantically, squeezing his eyes shut again and hoping his environment would change, yet the smell of wood and burning fish stung his nose, reminding him where he was.                                              
Then he heard that voice, the voice of Raphael (Tobias Hankle) leering over him,”Do you know what this is? It's God’s will.”
“You don't have to do this,” He heard himself say in a broken, trembling voice. Opening his eyes, he saw Raphael place a bullet into the cylinder of a revolver and spinning it, playing a game of Russian Roulette.
Pointing the gun at his head he said, “I’m doing this in the name of God.”
 
And then a gunshot echoed through his ears.
 
Waking up, covered in sweat, Spencer Reid looked around him. He was in his apartment - his safe, homely apartment - alone. Glancing at the clock that read 5.30 am, he got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom to take a bath before leaving for work.
 
When he was drying himself, he glanced at the fading track marks in the crook of his arm. Disgusted, he pulled on a long sleeved, white shirt and put on a black tie. When he was finished getting ready into black trousers, a blue sweater vest and his scruffy black Converse, he made a cup of coffee and packed his messenger bag, ready to leave for work.
 
Aaron Hotchner looked over the bull pen from his office, noticing that the youngest member of the team was in earlier than usual. He decided to go and talk to him, so he grabbed his empty coffee mug and made his way to the kitchenette.

“Hello, Reid,” he said, smiling politely.
Reid tipped his head towards Hotch, and continued to stare at his coffee.
Deciding to ignore the young genius' quietness, he continued, “What’s up?”
Reid's head snapped up, “Wh...Why would anything be up?”
Raising his eyebrows in confusion, wondering what he did wrong, Hotch continued, ”I didn't suggest anything was wrong; I thought I was asking what you were doing, but if  there ever is anything wrong, you know you can talk to me, right?”
Nodding his head, Reid left the kitchenette and made his way to his desk to continue reports.
 
At around half twelve, the flamboyant Penelope Garcia came stumbling into the bull pen in her bright pink heels, “Briefing room in five.”
 
Her blond head was whirling as she made her way up the steps and along the catwalk to the briefing room. Setting up, she laid out the paper file for Reid and set up the presentation on the screen as her team filed in.

“Hello, my beautiful BAU profilers. Today we are being called to Las Vegas, where someone has been kidnapping women - all aged 30 to 35 with brown hair - and keeping them for five days before dumping their bodies in a place which meant something to the victim. This is Kathryn Howard, a thirty year old woman. She had just moved from Cheltenham in England to Las Vegas. She was found in a local park, which is where she first met her boyfriend, who was her reason for moving.”

The woman on the screen showed a toothy, perfect smile, along with dark brown flowing hair and deep green eyes. She looked so blissful in the photo, the team found it hard to believe she was dead.

“How was she killed?” Prentiss asked, her voice slicing through the silence.

“She was strangled, but she was found with morphine in her system.”

“So he injects her with morphine and then he strangles her?” Morgan raised his eyebrows at this fact.

Garcia nodded before moving on, “The second victim is Leah Mash. She is thirty-three years old and the mother of two little identical girls. She was found on a bench outside of the place she worked at half one in the morning.”

The next photo was eerily similar to the first; she had a cascade of dark hair that fell around her flawless, ecstatic features.

“Was she drugged and strangled too?” Rossi asked, leaning forward slightly.

“Yes, but she had something else in her system.”

“What?”

“Dilaudid.”

As the sound of her voice disappeared, everyone lapsed into an awkward silence, except for Rossi who had no idea what was going on. They all took their focus away from Reid, as they all knew about his...problem. This made Reid’s ears burn as he knew what they were thinking.

Feeling bad for her junior G-man, Penelope moved on, “We also have another girl missing.”