A Miracle From Hell

Chapter 17

There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.---Laurell K. Hamilton

4 months later. 

Reid had been in out of hospitals a lot within the past four months. It had taken him two months to get out of the hospital in Arizona, and he had frequent checkups back home in Washington D.C. 

Home. He still hadn't gone to his apartment yet, choosing to spend the last two months at Hotch's or Rossi's house. He also hadn't gone back to work. He didn't know if he could. He barely left the house as it was. 

He knew that they were all worried about him. That he needed to talk to someone, to air out his thoughts, get his anger and frustration out. Or that's how they put it. 

That's the last thing he wanted to do. Talk to somebody who would nod and pretend to understand what he went through. As if anyone could understand what he went through. He gripped the counter, breathing heavily through his nose. 

He couldn't even close his eyes without feeling the pain of Lewis's knife slicing across his chest. The scars on his chest burned and he scratched at them, angrily. 

He really did try to pretend to be alright, to put on a brave face when they came to check on him. But they were profilers for god sake, one slip and they would be all over him. They were coming over tonight, Rossi was throwing a party for god knows what and he could not get away from it no matter how hard he tried. 

He looked at himself in the mirror, and forced a smile. Ok well he'd have to work on that. His fingers brushed the scar under his eye and he shivered, turning away from the mirror. Rossi's house was quiet, and peaceful. He slumped on the couch, rubbing his eyes. He was still getting used to the idea of having his own room again. Of being his own person again. 

He felt exhausted, he hadn't truly slept in weeks. His eyes fluttered and he lay down on the couch. Maybe he could try to sleep now. 

He was out before he settled into a comfortable position.

Dark, damp, the whole place had a slight smell of gasoline. Reid was back in that damn cage. He rattled the sides, screaming but no sound came out. The cage morphed and he was hanging from a beam, swinging helplessly. Lights flashed and he felt dizzy. Then out of nowhere, Lewis appeared, smiling and stabbed him in the stomach, over and over, and---

Reid was startled out of his sleep. Gasping, he sat up, looking around at the familiar sights to ground himself in reality. Rossi was standing overhead, concern on his face. 

"Hey kid, I walked in and heard you talking in your sleep." Rossi decided not to tell him, that his "talking" was more like screams for help. "You ok?" 

Reid swallowed and got up, his legs shaky. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks." He wandered over to the kitchen and drank some water. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he panicked and filling up his glass again, drank another glass of water. And another. It was irrational, but he was scared that he wouldn't be able to have any more water. 

Rossi walked in and raised an eyebrow. "Thirsty?" He watched him down a whole cup. "Reid." He reached for the cup and Reid turned away, the water spilling on the floor. "I'm not taking your water away, but don't you think that's enough?" 

Reid stared at the water on the floor. "Sorry Rossi, I'll clean that up." 

Rossi sighed. "Kid, I don't care about some water on the floor, but I do care about you. You need to let people into your life. What happened to you was horrific and you cannot internalize those feelings." He moved around so he was facing him. "Reid, please, we want to help you, but you have to make the choice to let us in."