Dune Point {Spencer Reid x Reader}

• Ten •

"Where there any ex-lovers that could have been angry about a bad breakup or something?" Rossi asked, everyone looking to Spencer.

"No." Spencer said sharply, the team giving him quizzical glances.

"No, she told me she'd only had two exes, one from high school and one from college." Then Spencer thought harder.

"She did tell me about a hookup buddy when she was at the Pentagon, but she said it wasn't anything too serious. They hooked up a few times for two years and then she said he left. He was gone for a year before she was transferred here."

Spencer had finally gained some composure by the time they got back to headquarters. He pushed back tears in order to keep a clear head, but he didn't know how much longer he could keep it together.

"We should check into her ex from the Pentagon." Hotch states as he exits the round table room in the direction of Garcia's office.
"He's not an ex." Spencer muttered under his breath, as he stood up to follow his boss.

The two reached Garcia's office, her turning around announcing, "My genius is at your service, sir."

"Spencer do you know his name?" Spencer thought for a moment, only to realize you never did give him a name. "No." He said sadly.

"Garcia, if we know Y/N's phone number, we can pull up her texts and calls, right?" Hotch asked.
"Yes sir." Garcia replied, typing those numbers into her computer.

Spencer didn't like what Hotch was implying. He didn't like the fact that they were invading your privacy. "It's to save her, Spencer, remember that" he had to remind himself.

"Garcia pull up any text conversations and call receipts from two years ago to last year." Hotch directed, and Garcia started her typing. In her 'Garcia' fashion, she had already spotted something.

"Ooh, let's see what we have here." Garcia's fingers continued to clack against her keyboard pulling up several text messages and phone calls to the same person. "Okay, Marcus Turner, who are you?" Garcia questioned to herself, loud enough for both Spencer and Hotch to hear. The two men hovered over her on each side of her monitor as she clicked away.

"Y/N texted this Marcus guy a lot, and I mean a lot. It was a lot of planning, small talk, and–" Garcia abruptly shut herself up as Hotch and Spencer both read one specific text chain. Spencer felt awful sneaking looks at a past you so obviously didn't want to uncover, let alone have your boss see.

Spencer couldn't help the twinge of jealousy shoot through his heart. Although you'd told him this guy was dead to you, Spencer hated knowing that someone else could see all of you and hurt you so bad.

"Well." Garcia broke the silence as everyone finished reading the text chain. "This is... spicy." She turned to see Hotch and Spencer staring daggers at her. She immediately turned back around and quit out of the texts.

"Ummmmm..." Garcia started, trying to avert the conversation, "She also made a significant amount of calls to this Marcus guy."
"How many?" Hotch questioned
"Like, almost every night."
"They didn't live together?" Spencer asked.
"Nada, no records, nothing. Not even a picture of the two together."

Spencer thought to himself, whispering only slightly so barely anyone could hear, "So then, what was this?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"An ARRANGEMENT! That's all this was!" You coughed out as Marcus continually sliced into your skin over and over and over again. "OH JUST AN ARRANGEMENT HUH? It sure didn't feel that way when you were begging me to keep going." Marcus finally pulled your chair up off the ground, and back to its upright position. The blood on your thigh from the carving stung against your sweat.

"Oh please, daddy, please more, harder!" Marcus mocked. "You begged then, so you can beg again, slut. So beg." This time you were hit with a strong slap to the face. 

You knew there was no winning. If you didn't beg he'd keep hurting you until you did, but if you did, it would only fuel him more. So you chose to stick with the option that would let you keep your dignity – or what you had left of it anyways.

Wait a minute.

You realized one simple flaw. If you pretended to enjoy it, it would throw him off. You didn't know what that would get you, but it could just be a chance to escape. Marcus isn't skilled in anything but rope tying, but you knew how to get out of his ropes for safety purposes. You recognized the type of knot he'd tied you in. It was a bit tighter than usual, so this was going to take extra effort.

Eventually, Marcus tired out and exited through the door he came. He opened to the door to leave, but before he fully exited he turned back. With the most wicked smile he whispered just loud enough for you to hear, "I'll be back for you, doll. Don't you go anywhere." Then he left, the door clicking shut behind him.

You let your fingers fold into your hand, attempting to reach your wrist as you felt out what type of tie you were in.

Trucker's Hitch. Oh my god he is an absolute idiot.

Trucker's Hitch was one of the easiest of the knots he's done. It's usually used to securely tie objects to vehicles, but he used to make it so it was easy for you to get out of it.

The hardest part was folding your fingers in and up to your wrists, but once you got there you just needed to pull down on each side.

Wow, he really was just a lazy piece of shit.

You pried the rope down, it coming loser and loser as you continued to pull. Finally the rope fell, half of it sitting in your lap while the other half dangled above the ground. You tried to wiggle yourself out before you remembered your ankles were tied to the chair legs.

You leaned forward to untie yourself but found yourself stuck in that position. It was as if you'd been frozen in cement. Your stomach and back ached, and all of your ribs felt cracked. All you had to do was move just a bit further.

If you thought it took everything in you to stand up, it took your entire body and soul to pick yourself up from the chair. Your legs wobbled like a newborn as you shakily attempted to walk to the door.

You don't remember when you fell, but you ended up crawling on your hands and knees. As cold as the ground below you was, it was the least of your worries. Your air supply worsened as you continued to use every fiber in every muscle of your body to drag yourself along the floor.

You finally reached the door, and slammed your hand on it to help yourself up. In your tired and dazed state, you found it strange that the door handle moved before you'd even reached it. But it was no hallucination.

As the door opened, you fell forward, landing your palms on the feet of the man you'd been trying to escape.

"I told you not to go anywhere, doll. "

• • • • • •
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