XIV

When I came to all I could feel was pain. My face ached, my eyes barely opening at the sight of a bright light being shined in my face. I blinked profusely, carefully tossing my face to the side to try and avoid it. As I did a hand tightly gripped my face, squishing my cheeks together as it pulled me back to the light. I shut my eyes tightly, groaning at both the pain and the brightness.


"Morning beautiful," a raspy male voice chuckled.


I groaned again. He tossed my head away, giving my temple a pretty decent slap. After blinking a couple more times I finally felt the fuzziness behind my eyes fade away. The second I managed to see I started to panic. I breathed heavily, darting my head around to view the area around me. By the looks of it I was in some sort of warehouse. I sniffed the air, immediately being filled with regret when I recognized the smell of dried blood and pungent sweat.


I was tied to a chair, my hands roped around my back. Weirdly enough the cut on my leg had been bandaged. I raised my brow, bending down to examine it before looking back up at the man who stood in front of me. He smiled at me, his gaze following mine as he giggled to himself. "I couldn't have you bleeding out before we had a little fun," he said.


Despite the situation I was in I still managed to roll my eyes.


Slowly he walked around the back of the chair, eyeing me up longingly. His fingers traced my skin, sending a shiver up my spine as I closed my eyes. As he rounded the back of the chair he yanked my hair at the root, turning my face to meet his. I groaned and threw my body side to side, hoping by some miracle that if I moved the right way I could escape.


Once again he laughed, tightening his grip around the stands of my hair. "Isla Rafferty," he breathed, "pretty name."


I spat at him. Even though I knew the next few moments of my life didn't look very promising I wasn't going to give in without a fight. This guy was a killer and even though it wasn't my job to catch him anymore I still had the opportunity to make his last few moments with me as difficult as possible.


He closed his eyes, breathing heavily out of his nose as he wiped his face.


I moved my arms behind the chair, gripping the rope tightly. I tried to tuck my fingers underneath a loop, hoping maybe it'd lead to some way out. Before I could though, he loosened his grip on my hair and moved it down to my neck. His fingers trailed along the sides, his hot, disgusting breath hitting my upper back as he slowly lowered himself and wrapped his hand around the front and squeezed.


I opened my mouth, feeling the air in my windpipe slowly dissipate. As much as I wanted to scream and fight for dominance, I didn't. I stayed perfectly still, feeling the life rush out of me as the seconds passed. There was no way in hell I was going to give him the satisfaction he wanted.


As his grip on my throat tightened everything went black again.


The torture went on for days and by what I assumed was the fourth I was ready to quit. My body was done, barely holding on as the moments passed. On top of the suffocation and the slapping he also cut me. By day two he decided it'd be fun to try something new, claiming all of his other victims weren't special enough for this opportunity. According to him I was his magnum opus, the kill that'd get him famous. He told me about Marcus, his partner in crime. The two of them working together to make a name for themselves. Apparently at a young age they met online, instantly finding an affinity for one another. At first their friendship was tame. They discussed things like video games and school, eventually steering the conversation to girls. They liked hurting girls; at least that was what Kane said to Marcus about himself one night, hoping he felt the same. When he did there was no going back.


That first time he cut me I cried. The second the blade touched the skin of my chest I screamed, shutting my eyes tightly as I tried to focus on anything other than what was happening. Obviously the first thing that popped into my head was Reid. I thought about him holding me, telling me everything was going to be okay and that I just needed to fight. I sobbed. At this point I was never going to see him again. I'd never see his adorable face and his messy hair. His chocolate eyes would only be a memory now. His soothing voice a whisper at the back of my mind.


I doubled over, gasping for air as he moved the knife elsewhere. Like always he laughed as he touched me, his fingers slowly moving up my thigh to separate my legs. He inserted himself between my knees, the edges of his thighs touching my calves as he grabbed a chunk of my hair and pulled up my face. Without hesitation he stuck the knife against my throat, his smile growing across the entirety of his face.


After that, instead of finishing the job he choked me out again.


When I woke up on the fourth day I knew it was over. His sudden change in patience escalated. Over the last few days he'd allow me wake up on my own terms, letting me to take a couple of moments to open my eyes and look around before ultimately throwing his abuse my way. This day was different thought. Instead of that I awoke to his hands trailing down my torso.


He was kneeling in front of me, his hands sliding across my bra as he smirked up at me. I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to cry again. I closed my eyes, breathing heavily as I felt his arms snake around my back. He slowly ran his fingers up and down, lingering at the clasp of my bra before he eventually undid it. He let out a sigh, instantly moving his hands to my front to grip my breasts. At that point I couldn't handle it anymore. I could take the abuse; I could take the punches and the slaps and the cuts, but the touching? I'd rather he killed me. He knew that too. After days of studying me, learning what I could and couldn't handle, he understood that this was the ultimate abuse of power. If he raped me I was done.


"Don't like that?" He smirked.


"Fuck you." I spat.


He snorted and gripped my hair again. By now my head was numb to his aggression, my brain barely processing the pain I felt anymore. Honestly, it was sad to think about how our bodies could that. How suddenly they could gave in to the sign of danger.


He leaned forward, pressing his mouth against mine. I gagged, tightening my lips together as he moved his hand to grip my face. He ran his tongue along my bottom lip. I tried to fight him, tossing my head away from his hand while shaking my entire body. It didn't do anything though. He pulled me tighter, loosening his grip on the roots of my hair to slide his hand down my body to the inner part of my thigh.


It felt like he was on me for eternity, laughing between unwanted kisses and touches. At one point I managed to free my face from his, gasping for air. I cried loudly, spitting onto the floor beside me to try and rid myself of his taste. Thankfully, instead of touching me again he pulled back, laughing to himself as he walked away to grab something. I knew right away it was the knife. Ever since he started using that thing he fell in love with it, cutting me almost every chance he had.


He grabbed it off a table near the other side of the room, turning to face me. He had a sparkle in his eyes. His mouth curling up to reveal a perfect set of pearly whites that I knew would haunt my nightmares if I somehow managed to survive this. He tossed the knife in his hand, twirling it in the air as he took a couple of steps toward me. As he did the erupting sound of a door slamming against the wall pulled our gazes away from each other. Because my back was facing the door I couldn't see. Regardless though, I knew right away what was happening. I looked up to meet Kane's widened eyes, his face searching the room desperately as he slowly backed up.


"FBI drop your weapon!" The sound of Morgan's beautiful, commanding voice caused my heart to dance in my chest.


Kane didn't drop it. He stood there silently, his fingers tapping against the base of the blade as he stared directly at me.


"It's over, asshole," I laughed quietly, tears streamed down my face as I scanned his. The desperate look on his face was enough for all the pain I felt to suddenly be worth it. If all it took was four days of physical and emotional torture to get this guy to stop, I was okay with that.


"I'm not gonna say it again, man, drop it."


He looked down at the knife in his hand, licking his lower lip as he ran through his options. I knew for a fact he was going to try and lunge for me. The way he talked so highly of my death over the last few days made it obvious. If he didn't at least try he was a failure.


As if on cue, he stepped forward, raising his arm as he glared in my direction. As he did a gun went off. I closed my eyes, jumping at the sound. I started shaking again. I needed to get out of this chair. I needed to see my friends and hug them and tell them I how grateful I was for them. I needed to feel love; to hold someone close against my chest and breath in their scent.


A pair of hands found their way to mine, slowly moving around the rope to untie me. As the rope loosened I felt the feeling in my hands come back. I moved my arms around to the front of me, groaning as I rested them on my lap and let out a sigh of relief.


"It's okay, y-you're okay," I heard JJ stutter. The sound of her voice caused the tears to start flowing again. She helped me put my bra back on before moving to the base of the chair to untie my ankles from the legs. Once they were free I wiggled them, watching as she stood upright. She reached her hands out to mine, pulling me into her.


I buried my face into her hair, smelling her sweet shampoo as I cried. Our grips on each other tightened.


Morgan and Rossi moved to Kane's body, holstering their guns as they knelt down to examine him. Based on the gunshot wound to his face we all knew he was dead. The relief I felt was otherworldly, like now that the worst was over I could breathe again. Despite how good it made me feel though, it was a feeling I definitely never wanted to experience again.


After that JJ walked me to the medic. I laid in the bed, feeling their caring hands explore the wounds on my body. They asked me questions and rewrapped the huge gash on my leg before piling me into the back of the ambulance. JJ stood outside, her arms wrapped around her chest as she waited for me to get situated. Once I was, she hopped in, taking a seat beside me as she sniffed and rubbed her eyes.


"You don't need to cry," I stated. At that moment I realized how disgusting my voice sounded. Thanks to all the strain on my esophagus I wouldn't be surprised if I had some sort of vocal cord damage.


"I know," she sighed, flashing me a fake smile. She sniffed again. "I'm so glad you're safe."


I looked up at the ceiling and licked my lips nervously. Even though I knew Kane was dead I didn't feel safe. I felt violated. Every moment I spent with that man would be burned into my memories, following me every day for the rest of my life.


"JJ," I held back the urge to cry.


"Yeah?"


"Is Spencer okay?" I turned to face her, the tears in my eyes building.


She let out a nervous laugh, nodding her head as ran her fingers through my hair. "He's fine. He's got a lot of cuts and bruises and a pretty bad concussion, but he's gonna be okay."


"Where is he?"


"He's on his way to the hospital," she responded, "he got released a couple of hours after the accident and was put on bed rest."


I let out a small laugh.


"What?"


"I can't imagine him ever agreeing to bed rest."


JJ chuckled. "Yeah, he was pretty pissed."


The ride to the hospital was a short one. Once we arrived the medics pulled me out of the back and wheeled me through a couple of hallways before eventually dropping me off in a room. Not long after the doctor walked in, asking JJ to wait outside while he conducted a couple of tests.


He ran through things fairly quickly, asking me how I felt, what had happened; the usual stuff. I answered everything to the best of my ability. Sometimes when I tried to recall things my memory got a little fuzzy, but for the most part I managed to get the more important details out. After we spoke he was replaced by a nurse who came in to stitch up my leg. We chatted casually, mostly talking about how her day was going so that I could distract myself from the horror that was currently my life. When she finished she did a couple of other little fix ups before eventually finishing with a sigh.


"Do I get visitors?" I asked.


"Of course," she laughed, "want me to send everyone in? You've got quite the crowd waiting for you."


"Uh, not yet," I bit my lip, "could you get Spencer Reid for me? He's the tall guy who looks like he raided his grandfather's closet."


The nurse laughed, throwing her head back before she nodded and left. As she did I chewed on my thumbnail nervously as I waited impatiently. I felt my body vibrate with anticipation. Even though it'd only been four days since I'd seen him it felt more like an eternity.


The second I saw his thin frame come into view I pushed the covers off my body and sat up, my mouth opening wide. A desperate wail escaped me lips as he ran over to my side and gripped me to his chest. I clawed at the sleeves of his shirt, digging my face into the crook of his neck as I sobbed. Seeing him in front of me solidified the fact that it was over. He was okay. I was okay. Both of us were here and we were going to be okay.


"Oh, my god," he whispered. He pulled his face away to scan me. One of his hand's ran through my hair, while the other gripped the small of my back. "I thought I lost you."


I sniffed, grabbing both sides of his face gently. I ran my thumbs along the stubble that grew along the lower half of his face. At this point I couldn't tell who looked more fucked up. Both of us were in pretty rough shape. All around his face were tiny cuts and scapes. Along the side of his forehead was a big gash, surrounded by splotches of dark purple bruises. I bit my lip and brought my hand up to graze it, feeling him flinch. I retracted my hand quickly, apologizing quietly. As I did he grabbed my hand, pressing the back of it to his lips as he closed his eyes.


"I'm glad you're okay." I moved my hand away from his mouth, moving it to the base of his neck to play with his hair. I wrapped a couple of strands around my finger, watching as he somehow managed to smile.


"I'm glad you're okay."


"I love you," I sighed, "I know you know already, but I just need to say it someone."


He snorted, his lips curling upwards as he brought my forehead to his. "I love you too," he responded, "and so does everyone else. You are so loved Isla." He cupped my cheek with his hand, moving his face so that he could kiss my forehead.


The safety I felt in that moment was enough to make my heart explode. It racked against my chest violently as I moved over to the edge of the bed. I tapped the space next to me, watching him immediately move to fill it. I cuddled up against his chest, ignoring the aches and pains my body felt as I moved close to him and closed my eyes.

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