ROSEMARY - spencer reid

S I X T E E N

CHAPTER 16: THE GUN

Rosemary Cooper's POV

[October 8th, 2009]

"Are you okay?" Spencer asks me quietly, wriggling against his ropes.

"I've had better days, but I've also had worse days," I reply as I try to see if my binds have any possibility of loosening, taking a good look at the wound on the side of his head. "How badly does that hurt?"

"I've been in worse pain." He smiles wryly, looking around and trying to find anything that could help us get out of here.

I let out a breath, lifting my head back up and looking at him. The sight is truly pitiful, his shoulders slumped and blood dried on his cheek.

"Spencer?" I sigh, drawing his attention to me.

"Hmm?" He hums, his golden-brown eyes trained on me.

"I'm really, really sorry," my voice cracks, and I close my eyes before tears could begin to fall. "I'm so sorry this happened to you." I sniffle.

"Hey, hey," he says in a soothing tone, trying to reach for me despite the ropes around his wrists. "It's okay, Rosemary. None of this is your fault, alright?"

I shake my head, looking at my lap. "You shouldn't be here. This place is awful."

"You shouldn't be here either," Spencer insists. "And I mean that. This isn't your fault. Bad people will always do bad things."

I nod, remembering the gun that Sanchez never picked up.

"Wait," I whisper, twisting around in my chair. "The gun, where is it?"

"There!" He hisses after looking around briefly. "By the counter."

I use my toes to turn my chair, the legs making a soft scraping sound on the planks of the floor.

"I don't think I would even be able to pick it up," I say. "Not without tipping the chair over, anyway."

"Hey, wait a second," Spencer says under his breath so that Ramón can't hear us. "There's an uneven edge on the leg of the chair that your right foot is tied to. Try sliding your foot up and down, but make sure to push your foot forward so there's more force against the rope."

I slide my foot up, feeling the rope catch on a sharp splinter of the wood. I continue to do this, but after several minutes, I feel no progress and my leg muscles begin to ache.

"Is anything happening?" I ask, glancing up at Spencer.

"It looks like it's starting to fray," he squints. "Try kicking your leg away from the chair."

I sharply push my leg away from the chair, gasping when my foot flies free. The rope from that leg slides into the floor with a slight thud.

"Okay." I whisper to myself as I cross my now-freed right leg over my left knee, propping my shoe on my lap.

I bite my lip as I attempt to work at the tie on my left wrist, the toe of the shoe scraping against the layer of rope. I pull my hand backwards, but my restraint seems to grow tighter.

꧁꧁꧂꧂

Dr. Spencer Reid's POV

Rosemary lets out a frustrated groan, but continues to work against the rope. It doesn't seem to be going well, and I suddenly hear a door creak open.

"Rose!" I grit under my breath, the tone of my voice immediately grabbing her attention.

I urgently nod towards the hallway, and she hears the Sanchez's footsteps lumbering down the hallway. She pulls her foot back down to the floor, trying to use the toe of her shoe to flip the rope back onto her foot to give it the appearance of being tied.

"Almost forgot," he chuckles, kneeling down and picking the gun up off of the floor. While at that height, he sees that the rope around her ankle has been undone. "What is this?"

"Please, don-" Rosemary begins to say, but before she can even finish her sentence, Sanchez has punched her so hard in the face that her whole body is thrown back.

The momentum of her body tips the chair backwards onto the ground, and she is unconscious from the punch before the chair even hits the floor. Sanchez steps over her, preparing to punch her again even though she is already out cold.

"Wait!" I nearly squeak, and I clear my throat once his attention is on me. "It's not her fault, it was my idea! Don't hurt her, please! She could die..."

I trail off, horrified of the thought of Rosemary dying as I watched helplessly. My heart turns to a block of ice in my chest at the mere notion. It quickly thaws into a hot ball of panic when Sanchez leaves Rosemary's battered form on the ground, still tied to her chair, and quickly approaches me. I know that I should not show him fear, but I feel utterly terrified.

"You," he points, jabbing his finger against my chest roughly. "Have been nothing but trouble since you got here. My girl was just starting to behave for me, but you showing up has sparked another rebellion out of her!"

"She isn't yours." I say tensely even though I know that I shouldn't anger him.

After that remark, all I remember is the overwhelming feeling of pain and then nothingness.