"Maybe all the schemes of the devil were nothing compared to what man could think up."
-Joe Hill

'~-Spencer-~'

June 7th, 2003

I lightly gripped the page of the book I was in the middle of reading. I was relaxing on the couch, lazily reading "The Art of Hearing Heartbeats" by Jan-Philipp Sendker. One week had passed since Amelia and I became a married couple. Our honeymoon had ended yesterday, so today, we were searching for a new house.

"Hey." Amelia passed by me.

"Good morning, Beautiful," I replied, looking up from my book- she was cooking breakfast again. "What's up?"

"I don't know. My thoughts are arguing with each other, and it's causing me anxiety."

"That's- not normal. Does this normally happen?"

"Yeah. It's been happening since I was eight. Spence, what do you mean that it's not normal?" She glanced at me.

"Thoughts don't usually 'argue' with each other."

"Oh. Is there something wrong with me?"

"I don't know. Do you mind if I write down your behavior for this week? That will help me come to a better conclusion." Amelia nodded while setting some of her ingredients on the counter.

I pulled out a notepad and a pen.

"Alright then, I have a couple of questions to ask you," I began, writing down a "1" on the top of the paper in my messy style.

"Go ahead, Spence." I wrote "Spence" on the paper.

"What's your favorite item?" She looked at me quizzically.

"Well, I like candles, things that smell good. Oh, and you can never go wrong with a good book."

I wrote the information under "likes to cook".

"What about favorite dessert?"

" Banana pudding with vanilla wafer cookies, one-hundred percent." I scribbled that down as well.

"Okay, and finally, dream vacation?"

Amelia thought for a moment. "A camping spot at a giant waterfall."

I smiled at her responses, flipping the notepad closed.

"Speaking of food, breakfast is ready! Omelets with bacon pieces." I licked my lips as she set my food on the table.

I hugged her from behind, planting a quick kiss on her cheek before sitting down to eat. The food was delicious, as it always was when she cooked.

"Thank you, Sweetheart." We grinned at each other.

"Of course. I'm going to check on the kids now, and I'll be back in a few minutes." Amelia kissed me, then disappeared into the kids' room. After I finished eating, I wrote down "motherly" onto my notepad and hid it away behind the couch cushions.

A few minutes passed before Amelia joined me on the couch, snuggling up to my side. I pulled out my laptop and began to search through houses that we could buy. Thirty minutes passed before I settled on a $500,000 home, which could accommodate our family perfectly. Maybe even our future family.

"I like that one." My wife commented as I scrolled through the house that was listed. It wasn't too far from D.C.

"I do, too. We should put our offer in for it." I set up the offer, which was $25,000 more than their asking price.

"I can't wait to move into our new house." She mumbled.

"Me neither, Darling. Me neither."

June 10th, 2003

Three days had passed since I had placed the offer on the house. We were still awaiting a response, but the wait had given me enough time to collect more information. It turned out that there was more than one conflicting behavior- I had found at least three. I had asked my wife the same questions, but sometimes she told me that she had heard them before, and sometimes I was met with drastically different responses.

On my notepad, I divided these responses into different numbers, labeled "1", "2", "3", and "4"- the four was only there because of the contradicting behavior I had seen while visiting my mother.

For example, today, when I had asked "3" if she was doing okay, she told me to "F--- off". That was not the typical behavior of the person I had grown to love for the past two years. I also figured out that "2" was the one who was sensitive to cursing, but "1" did not care at all.

This had caused me to separate the responses into four different entities with four distinct behaviors. Suddenly, it had become clear to me what I was dealing with.

My older phone buzzed as I called the psychiatrist's office.

"Hello, this is Doctor Torres. How may I help you today?"

"Hi, my name is Spencer Reid. I would like to set up an appointment for my wife."

"What is your wife's name?"

"Amelia Reid." The name felt strange on my tongue since I had taken her last name.

"Alright, Mr. Reid, when would you like the appointment to be?"

I thought for a moment. "Sometime next week. What times do you have available?"

"Let me check. I have an opening for Wednesday, June eighteenth, at one o'clock in the afternoon. Does that work for you?"

"That's perfect. Thank you, Doctor."

"I'll see you in a week, Mr. Reid."

I heard a beep come from the phone as he hung up.

"Spencer!" A cheerful voice popped into my room.

"Hey, Beautiful, what's up?" Amelia's behavior was completely different from earlier.

"The person accepted our offer! We're moving into our new home in approximately four weeks."

"That's wonderful!" I exclaimed. My wife hopped onto my bed and laid her head on my chest.

"I love you," She whispered to me.

"I love you too," I mumbled back.

(Yes, I am aware that buying a house is not that easy. Leave me alone.)

June 14th, 2003 - 6:10 A.M.

I drowsily opened my eyes, groaning when I realized that the sun wasn't up. However, as I closed my eyes again, I knew that I was not able to go back to sleep. I stretched after hopping out of my bed, acutely aware of how silent the house was. There was no way that Amelia was up at this time.

I dragged my feet down the hall and into the living room. A yawn escaped my mouth as I noticed a note on the kitchen counter.

"I had an early meeting, and I'll be back soon! xoxo" It was an odd choice of wording, but I didn't mind it.

Eventually, the sun peeked its head over the horizon. Now, I was fully awake, so I decided to continue reading the book I started a week ago. I pulled out the copy of "The Art of Hearing Heartbeats" and picked up where I left off. I sighed as I finished the book seven minutes later.

The day began to pass me by as I anxiously waited for my wife's return. Taking care of the kids was no easy task by myself, but I managed. Plus, it was fun to play with them, and I even got to read Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" to them.

Eventually, the clock struck eight. Amelia had been gone for fourteen hours, which was odd since her average workday was only nine. I decided to go check on her, a knot of anxiety forming in my stomach as I arrived at the Starry Field.

"Hey, Hot Stuff." I rolled my eyes as Matt approached me.

"Hello, Matt. I was just looking for Amelia. Do you know where I might find her?"

"Shouldn't she be at home? Today's her day off- I get to take care of her meetings and stuff." I froze.

"She left a note saying she had an early meeting." He shook his head.

"Let me see." I materialized the note for him.

"Spencer. Amelia doesn't write like this. She doesn't use "x" or "o", she draws a heart." Fear accumulated behind Matt's violet gaze.

"But that's her handwriting?"

"Magi can copy each others' handwriting. Shit, Spencer, why didn't you say anything sooner?" He looked frantic.

"Wait, so you're saying-"

"Amelia's been taken. I need to talk to The Others."

My mouth flew open, and a gasp came from my lips. I covered it with my hand, squeezing my eyes shut in the hopes that this was just a dream.

It was just some sick, twisted dream.

'~-Ameliaä̴̠͙͈̱̪̺͂̎͑̒̈́̀̉͊̌͑̃̾̾́̃͘͘͝͠͠a̷̢̧̡̧̡̛̜̰̠̩̩̖͇̱̺̟̞̯͍͓̹̗̩̦̼̫̰̰͚͖̯̭̮̭̙̻̼̩͌͛́́̌̽̓̃̌̀̆̐̓̑̕͠͝͝ ̵̢̢̢̨̢̢̟̝̘̭̙̩̬̜̬̟͓̩̙̤̪̜͇͙͎͍̖̠̺̭̤̼͚̤̑̈́̿͌̈̓͆̔̔͐͋̃́͂̿́̅̊̓̆̅̏̀͊̅͋̓̇̿̔͊͒̍̀̾̏̄̈̕̚͘̕͝͠͝͝ ̴̡͉̯̦̱̳̲͚̹̗͍̲̻̹̪̳̟̱̞͍͉̥̞̝͖̥͉̜̟̯̥̖͙̜͕̪̰̠̥̘͉̮̭͔̤̪̟̫̬̬̦̀̐̀̄̓̈́̐̌̊͐͌͑̈̃̍̌͑̽͗̈́̀̿̿́̏̽̊̃͜͝͠-~'

My head was pounding. God, it hurt so bad.

Where am I?

My surroundings were dull, gray, and made of metal. It resembled a large prison cell- the type they would use for solitary confinement. The only item that was colored was the scarlet bed underneath me, which I was currently chained to.

Great.

I pulled on my restraints, letting out a groan of frustration when I realized they were Magi-proof.

Who the hell has the balls to kidnap me?

Whatever, it doesn't matter anyway. I'm probably going to die here.

I chuckled at the thought.

The door to my cell swung open. In walked an eerily familiar face.

"It's good to see you again, Amelia."

"Apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, huh?"

Anger burned in those emerald eyes. I had seen them before. Those same eyes had been burned into my memory when I was a little girl.

Smack!

My cheek stung from the slap, and a low growl came from the man's lips.

"You don't know my father." His face was inches from mine.

I rolled my eyes. "I had the pl-"

"Did I say you could talk?" He growled again, slamming my head against the headboard.

Ow.

"Sorry, Sir." I sarcastically bit back. "What are you gonna do, spank me?"

"Don't talk back to me." The man pushed my head against the pillow.

Nope, not today, Satan.

"Are you gonna behave for me?"

"Nope."

"Too bad." He whispered, his breath hot on my lips.

"Full circle. A new terror born in death, a new superstition entering the unassailable fortress of forever. I am legend." -I Am Legend (Richard Matheson)