GOT A SWEET FACE ˚ ✰
BUT I ONLY PLAY VILLAIN
FALL OR FLY.
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▃ view #3 ▃
3 AUGUST, 2004
3:24 PM
— THE PRESENT
Blood had been her lover, her euphoria, her oblivion. It had kissed her face senseless, left behind love marks the color of plums, and dripped down her neck in intricate lines like veins.
Her chin had busted open, her face scraped from the alley floor. Her index finger was broke and the knees of her jeans had torn from the tackle she'd gotten, or had he done that one— she didn't remember.
Maya was silent, watchful and wary of the obscene silence in the chilled room. She moves her left leg, winces at the pain that shoots up her foot.
She was sitting in a metal chair, freezing under fluorescent lights. The knuckles of her hands have bruised and her fingernails are encrusted with dirt.
She was in an interrogation room. Alone.
Maya knows of the double-sided mirror, she's aware of the two men behind it analyzing her. Still, she says nothing.
The mirror reflects what she doesn't want to see. With wet, matted hair and a busted lip, with dirty water sliding down her nose and dripping off her chin, she looks away.
"Here." The door slams open, banging against the wall before swinging shut. A man walks in, tossing a clear bag onto the table.
Maya's eyes it, pokes it with a crimson knuckle before looking back at him. "You can only keep me here for twenty four hours until you have to let me go-free of any charges." Her voice is soft, quiet.
"Actually," he sits across from her, folding his arms. "We can keep you here longer-72 hours."
She goes quite after that.
They had no idea what they'd gotten into, but she did.
Although they were the ones that weren't handcuffed to the metal table, she was the one in charge.
It felt like falling.
▃ view #2 ▃
3 AUGUST, 2004
2:30 PM
— THE PAST
It was a Tuesday at the office of the BAU, and usually, Tuesdays come with paperwork but Hotch, our supervisor had asked the team to meet him at the round table.
We had a case.
You could see the joy on Morgan's face when he realized he didn't have to do the paperwork. He gave me his usual 'bro nod' when I took the seat next to him and Gideon joined Morgan on the other side.
"Where's the case?" It was Gideon who spoke. He sounded tired, but he usually did— I think that's what happens when you make your job your life.
I wasn't complaining.
"DC." Hotch answered as he handed us the files. This was the most painful part of the job, looking through the gruesome cruelty humans do. It was harder knowing that sometimes they just couldn't stop.
"5 boys in their late teens have been killed in the last 2 months. All in the South DC area." Hotch starts. "The Washington PD was still investigating if the cases are connected but then a suspect shows up with evidence of 4 more murders."
"That seems straightforward to me. Why do they need us for?" Morgan asks with a shrug.
"They say the girl is. . .unusual." That got Gideon's interests.
Gideon does that sometimes— gets interested in the smallest of details. I think that's what makes him a great profiler, or maybe when you've been around death for so long and you've seen the most horrible of human beings there are, a few seemingly normal kills don't scare you that much.
This job changes you. I know that. Just not to what extent.
"They sent the CCTV footage." Garcia, our computer tech enters the room and connects the video to the TV screen.
The video starts with just silence. The interrogation room is small and dark but like most rooms it has a small window which could hardly pass as such— maybe a large hole in the wall seems more accurate.
A girl wounded sits handcuffed on the metal chair. Her skin looks pale and painful but she stares ahead at the door like she knows someone is going to enter any moment.
We can't see her face from that angle but her brunette hair and blue eyes are enough for me to know she's on the pretty side of the spectrum, although the word pretty means pleasing or attractive to the eye, as by delicacy or gracefulness but by the facial define features and color of her skin, eyes or even hair, she can be judged as what society views as pretty or even beautiful.
Not that I found her pretty.
Of course not.
A detective enters the room and quickly closes the door— it may have been a tactic to show dominance but the girl doesn't flinch at the loud sound, she simply stares at the man as he takes a seat opposite to her.
"What is going on in your pretty head Reid?" Morgan asks me because he can always tell when something is on my mind— he says I'm easy to read, I like to think I'm not. Others turn there head to face me.
"Can you see how some of the wounds are new. How long as she been in custody?" Hotch and Morgan seem to agree with me and Gideon squirts his eyes to look at the blurry and highly pixilated video. Eye squinting in itself is not a harmful habit. It won't harm your vision or your eye health. However, if you find yourself squinting in order to focus on things up close or far away, this is an indication that you have a refractive error. I would've said all this out loud if we weren't in the middle of figuring out what was unusual about this girl who didn't seem any older than 21.
But looks can be deceiving.
"Two and a half hours." Garcia tell us after doing a few clicks on her laptop which she held. I never really got technology.
The detective starts talking but the girl simply stares as if waiting for something. He introduces himself as detective McGee.
McGee slides the file which would possibly be the pictures of the victims in front of the girl but she still stares.
McGee shouts 'those were just children, why did you kill them', she still stares.
McGee stands up annoyed and bangs his hands on the table. His ring clings with the metal making a loud ringing sound, she still stares.
Doesn't flinch.
Doesn't move.
Doesn't speak.
My eyes are glued to the screen and I'm waiting for something to happen. I want to scream at her to just let a emotion or even just a reaction and then, finally, she speaks and her voice is so pure, so sweet— nothing like a possible serial killer.
"Does your wife knows you want to hurt her? Or is that why she keeps the children away?"
He freezes, looks at her with so much hatred, she still just stares.
"You are a different kind of monster aren't you? You want domination? You're doing something good while having an ulterior motive that's far from good.
You're the savior and pacifist that's established an empty peace. It's peace's shadow, because when you drown a fight, or solve a kidnapping you don't do it for the parties involved. You do it for your ego and in order to solidify the effect you can have on others."
It's he who stares now.
It's he who sits blankly.
It's he who doesn't speak.
The recording ends with McGee putting his face in his hands and crying.
FALL OR FLY.
( criminal minds fan- fiction! )
pre/ season one
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