Psychosis

Chapter 8- Useless Languages

"Ciara, since when have you been here?" She didn't turn around, but she knew the voice belonged to Reid.

"Ah, not long. Did ye just come to watch me?" she asked.

"Well, um, a-actually..." he stammered, and she knew that meant yes. She rubbed her eyes again, and she knew that whatever happened last night, she hadn't gotten much sleep, even before the nightmare had woken her. "Listen, Ciara, are you really okay? Isn't this case getting to you, just a little bit?"

"No. It's not, and it won't. I want to go talk to the friends of these girls. Do ye think they'll let me do that?"

"Are you sure you're going to be able to? I mean... you were barely able to talk when we first met," he mentioned, and she knew that he was right. But someone would be with her, right? Right? Hotch did say she wasn't to do anything case-related without someone watching her. She looked over the pictures of the girls, still feeling nothing in relation to the fact that they were dead. She zoned out a little bit, and by the time that she had come back to reality, everyone else was there, and she was glad that she came back to reality because if she hadn't, she would have missed what she was about to do next.

"Morgan, you and Ciara go talk to some of the friends of the victims," Hotch instructed, and Ciara nodded, still facing the board. As soon as everyone else had their instructions, Ciara followed Morgan to the dorms, to where Bevin Reilly was. On the way there, Morgan decided to talk to her. She was a little upset that she didn't get to say that she had figured out the drowning in their blood, but Reid assured her on her way out that he would tell them about it, and he said he would make sure that they knew that she was the one that figured it out.

"So, do you think this is something you could do every day? Is this something you could dedicate your life to?"

"I think so. I haven't had anything else to dedicate it to. It's nice to know that I can actually do something with my life. Does that make sense?" Ciara asked.

"Yeah, I get that. But you seem to be holding up well. How is this not getting to you?" he asked.

"I have my ways. But anyway. Be-vin Rei-lly. 21. She's majoring in Special Education. Room 102," Ciara read from the paper, and while she felt like Morgan was getting a little suspicious about her, she knew that what she said earlier was true. She really was glad to have something to dedicate her life to. Finally. Before, all she had was writing. She wasn't saying that she was going to give up writing. She loved writing. Speaking of which, she remembered that she needed to begin outlining either the sequel for Forever Mine or the new story she wanted to work on. She wasn't sure which she was going to work on first. They got to Room 102, and Morgan knocked on the door. Soon enough, a pale girl with red hair, green eyes, and a face full of freckles answered the door. A stereotypical Irish girl.

"Hello! Who exactly are ye?" Bevin Reilly wondered. Ciara could easily hear what people called an "Irish accent". To her, she didn't have an accent. To her, there was no such thing as an Irish accent. To Ciara, it was everyone else that had an accent. Not her.

"Are you Bevin Reilly?" Morgan asked, and the girl nodded. "I'm Agent Derek Morgan from the FBI, and this is..."

"I-I'm... I'm Ci-ara Byrne," Ciara introduced (or stammered) for Morgan, knowing he wasn't quite sure what to call her.

"Ciara Byrne. Ye have a good Irish name. I like it. Doesn't it mean 'dark haired raven'?" Bevin asked, and Ciara nodded. "Ciara" meant "dark-haired", and "Byrne" meant "raven". Ciara loved her name, because she had darker hair, and ravens were supposed to smart, so it fit her perfectly.

"Bevin, can we ask you a few questions?" Morgan asked, and Bevin sighed and invited them in.

"This is about Africa, Eileen, and Niamh, isn't it?" Bevin asked, and Morgan and Ciara both nodded. "So, Ciara, how old are ye? Ye look too young to be with the FBI."