Criminal History.

Chapter Thirty.

I shivered uncontrollably as the freezing air hit my wet skin. I couldn't hear a sound... everything was deadly silent. I tried opening my tired eyes but they ached. I tried to raise my hand from the armrest but found myself restricted. My eyes flew open as I looked around the dark, dank warehouse. I could see my arms tied to a wooden chair by leather straps and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake free.

My clothes were in tatters. With rips in the material and cuts on my skin I dread to think of the abuse my body had to suffer through in transit. I closed my eyes and tried to recollect my thoughts and memories, even subconscious memories but nothing appeared after being sent home by Rossi. I'm boned.

I threw my head back in pure frustration but ended up hitting a plank of wood making my head fuzz due to mild concussion. Someone help me. I sat in the cold, silent damp for an hour before I heard any signs of life.

I could hear faint chattering, increasing in volume and pitch, coming closer before a door behind me opened casting light into the once dark room. I looked around and tried to take in as much about my surroundings as possible before the door slammed to a close.

The floor was made of concrete and the walls of wood. Along the left wall hung metallic objects I've only ever seen in medieval history books when they were discussing crime, torture and punishment. A silver table stood in front of this scary wall piled high with a scientific chemistry set that was so clean I don't think it had actually been used. The wall directly in front of me was home to leather whips, leather cuffs and chains. But the wall was partially obscured by a large black box.

The right hand wall was plain with a bordered up window directly above a stained, raggedy mattress with pillows and a blanket crudely thrown on top. I could hear heavy footsteps approach me prior to my head being roughly yanked backwards.

"Wakey wakey." The voice teased with a sly grin. In return I spat in his smug face. I smiled at my momentary victory before a harsh smack sounded around the room as my head whipped to the right.

The stinging sensation felt like burning needles were being driven into my left cheek but I refused to show pain. I should be used to it.

He walked to the black box before he pressed a small button making a red light appear in the lower right corner. The screen was white and black, classic static, before he turned a small video camera on. It was then I was able to see my face.

With a black eye and a cut on my cheekbone, my pale skin looked paler. My eyes were slightly duller and my lips more of a purple than pink. The TV screen swiftly changed from an image of me to an image of a panicky Penelope. "Oh I do hope you're not alone there Miss Garcia."

"She's not." Hotch voice sounded, bossy and serious as ever making me smile a little.

"Oh I am glad. What about the rest of your so called team. I'm sure they don't want to miss the grand unveiling." Jamie tormented with a sarcastic grin making me scoff in reponse. "Shut up!"

"Are you ok Jones?" Hotch asked, ignoring Jamie all together.

"A-Ok sir. A little worse for wear but still feeling good." I grinned at Jamie's annoyed face knowing I wasn't really doing anything to piss him off. "How's everything your end sir?"

"SHUT UP!" He yelled at me, followed by another hit to the face. no wonder I had a cut on my cheek.

Spitting out a little bit of blood I directed my gaze back to the screen and looked upon Penelope's teary eyes. "I'm fine P." I grinned at the worried blondie who was frantically typing away on her keyboard.

"Oh, if you are trying to trace this video link good luck. This signal is being routed through so many different routers, wireless modems and satellites that I have actually lost count." Jamie looked at his hands before dropping them to his side and walking back over to me.