SPENCER - spencer reid

F O U R T E E N

a/n: this is just a warning that this chapter will contain GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/IMAGERY. I assume that everyone reading this story watches Criminal Minds, so I'm sure that most of you will be okay with it, but I just wanted to put a TRIGGER WARNING for anyone who needs it.

CHAPTER 14: WHERE AM I?

Dr. Spencer Reid's POV

[January 27th, 2010]

My battle to regain consciousness begins with a high-pitched whine that swells and retreats within my ears. Next comes the movement of my hands, which grasp at layers of a finely-ground dirt over a concrete floor, the powder easily finding its way underneath my fingernails. In an attempt to scope out my surroundings, I open my eyes, attempting in vain to ignore the blurring black edges that threaten to take over the limited sight that I have.

"Good. You're awake," I hear a voice echo, the soundwaves bouncing against the concrete walls and floor. "I thought that I had killed you for a while there."

I gasp for air quietly, trying to remain awake despite the numbness of my body and mind. My tongue is heavy in my mouth, pressing flatly against my teeth as I try to part my dry and cracked lips. I manage to run my tongue across them, pinching my eyes shut as I disregard the pounding in my head.

"My name is Dr. Spencer Reid, I'm with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the-" I begin to speak, but I am cut off.

"I know who you are, Dr. Reid. I have an inkling that you might know who I am, too." the man's voice scoffs, and a slight groan forms in my throat as I open my eyes again, staring at the ceiling.

The statement elicits a stronger desire within me to sit upright. I am eventually propped up on my elbows, the thick sleeves of my cardigan preventing the concrete floor from chilling my skin. Lifting my head with difficulty, my eyes finally land on the slightly blurry figure about 6 or 7 feet away from me.

As my vision begins to focus, I am able to pinpoint specific details about the man's physical appearance. He wears a plain white tank top and black slacks, as if he had been wearing a dress shirt and removed it. His black hair is gelled to the point of utter immaculacy, not one strand out of place despite the heaving of his chest that leads me to believe that he has recently performed a strenuous activity.

I blink one, two, three more times before the features of his face finally click within my memory.

꧁꧁꧂꧂ Flashback ꧁꧁꧂꧂

As I round a corner, I feel myself colliding with a hard body, both of us staggering backwards. After I regain my balance, I look up at the man who I had bumped into. He is around my height and glasses rest upon the bridge of his nose. He looks to be a few years older than I, and I watch as his eyes flare in annoyance before looking up to my face and immediately calming. The rapid change of expression on his face disconcerts me.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going-" I begin to apologize, but he cuts me off.

"Oh please," he waves his hand dismissively. "If I wasn't in such a hurry, this wouldn't have happened. So I'm sorry."

꧁꧁꧂꧂ Flashback Over ꧁꧁꧂꧂

I do know him.

It was just a under week prior to now that I had bumped into him on the street.

"You're that man from the street corner..." I feel dread wash over me, my weak voice sounding like that of a stranger.

"So you do remember me," the man smiles almost genuinely. "I knew that you would figure it out. You're bright, yes?"

"I'm a certifiable genius." I feel myself say instinctually, having delivered that same line for years.

"You've got the world at your fingertips, Dr. Reid," he smiles, leaning down to grab at something on the floor. "It was your intelligence, your determination, your ambition... Those are what first caught my attention," he lets out a strained grunt and I feel myself grow lightheaded when I see that he is hefting a limp, naked body over his shoulder. "Then I realized how much that you reminded me of who I used to be before-" he slams the person down loudly onto a metal table, the sound making me jump. I can tell by the stiffness of the body that he has been dead for hours if not days. "Before I was transformed into a... Well, a living robot if you will."

"What do you mean by-" I try to keep the conversation going, my mind playing over several scenarios of escape.

None of them end well for me.

"I mean," the man snidely sneers, grabbing onto a large, serrated metal blade. "I became just another cog in the machine. I don't have an identity anymore! I'm just another guy stuck in a cubicle from 9 to 5!"

In his anger, he viciously begins to dig the saw into the throat of the dead victim, making me cringe and gag slightly as he hacks and saws through the hardened flesh and bone. I don't even hesitate before emptying the small amount of food and water from my stomach, allowing the vomit to splatter across the dirty concrete.

I wipe my mouth weakly with the cuff of my sweater, falling onto my back and watching the dust rise around me. As the particles dance in the flickering light, I feel myself fall back into darkness before I can do anything to prevent it.