alewife - clairo

In a predictable turn of events, my not-so-self-assured unsub had lost his nerve and was now regretting his decision to let me on the phone. My drugged state had not produced the babbling, terrified, sobbing mess he had anticipated gaining pleasure from. In an equally predictable turn of events, he blamed me.

He didn't say as much, naturally. He'd never admit that self-doubt to me. So instead he decided to vent his frustration physically.

The first blow caught me in the left temple. I didn't have enough time to register pain before another fist landed lower on my face, hitting part of my lip. That one smarted faster. I was still experiencing the effects of whatever drug he had put me on, but that didn't do anything for the pain. I just felt disoriented and stuck inside my body.

Then came the kicking. It didn't hurt until a rogue kick caught a leg of the chair and toppled the entire thing, landing me on my side. All the air ran from my lungs with the gunshot start of the chair hitting concrete. The unsub kept kicking, hitting me in the ribs and shins. I tried to stay quiet and pressed my face into the ice-cold floor. Light started sweeping over me and then withdrawing like the ocean tide. He knocked into the light bulb. I hadn't realized it was far down. It made me nauseous, the way the light shined bright into my peripheral just to vanish again. Eventually, the man tired himself out and left without uprighting my chair.

I was alone again. The lightbulb has settled, illuminating me my immediate surrounding in its familiar dim wash.

It was evening. That was my best guess. I probably had less than twelve hours before my fifth and final day. I wished desperately that I could dislodge the images of the other girls from my brain. Despite all my big talk, I was petrified about what was to happen next. The punches and kicks were nothing. If the BAU couldn't find me, hell awaited.

I swear, I promise if I ever get out of here I'll never complain about having to wait again, I told myself. There was nothing as tortuous as waiting for a rescue mission to reach you when weren't even sure it was deployed. I fought to stay awake. The man hasn't fed me today or given me any water, a fact I realized when my stomach growled loudly. That was probably why the drug hit me so fast and so hard. It was making me lightheaded.

I drifted in and out of what could only generously be described as sleep, startling awake now and then.

I dreamed of ropes wrapping around my throat so tight I couldn't breathe.

I dreamed of the man stepping on my ribs and snapping them, pain puddling in my chest.I dreamed of Eliza. She was standing outside the throw of the light bulb, a silhouette facing the wall. I called out to her but she wouldn't turn around. Could she not hear me? Or would she just not turn around? Why would she, after all. Why would she forgive me for killing her? I kept calling, screaming her name. Finally, she started to twist toward me, but at that moment the same a pair of dirty hands launched out from behind me, covering my mouth and eyes.

I dreamed of Reid. Those were the good dreams, at least at first. They were just moments, maybe a minute here or there between nightmares. I'd feel his hand on mine, guiding my chess piece into the right place. Or he'd tangle his fingers in my hair the way he did sometimes when we kissed. The only trouble was when I jolted back into consciousness I was met with not only my grisly situation but the sharp pain of loss. Seconds ago Reid was so close I could taste his lips, then he was gone. Far, far away.

I wasn't sure when I had started crying, but at some point, I realized tears were somersaulting down my face. It was getting harder to stay awake for more than a few minutes. And, to top it all off, my head was killing me. Hah. Killing me.

Praying wasn't really my thing. I wondered listlessly if it was worth a shot.

"C'mon idiot, save me," I muttered instead, unsure of who I was directing my ill-mannered plea. I was sober by now, which was of absolutely no use to me. The government was right about drugs. They fucking sucked. Always wearing off at the most opportune times. If I survived this, I thought to myself, I should become a spokesperson for D.A.R.E. Was that even around anymore? I had a vague memory of Reid reciting statistics that indicated D.A.R.E. was unsuccessful in lowering rates of drug use and even increased them in some areas. Spencer.

Gray walls. Gray walls. That stupid light bulb never turned off. Fucking light bulbs. Could kidnap, beat, and kill four women but couldn't spring for a lamp? Fucking serial killers.

What would my funeral be like?

Closed casket. That was for sure. Out of nowhere, my brain recalled an evidence photo it had forgotten up to that point. It was a gaping hole in the back of Alison Price's neck, as if a metal spike had been lodged between two of her vertebrae.

Jesus.

"Save me. Please, cmon, save me," I said, increasingly urgent. My voice broke on the last words which sailed, unobstructed, into thin air in what I imagined to be a long arc ending underwhelmingly onto the floor.

If this was your last night on Earth, what would you do? No one ever acknowledges that too often there's nothing you can do. I was drug into sleep once more and dreamed of a bright light. So bright my eyes ached like they were sore. It was a white light, mostly, tinged with red. Heaven, I thought numbly. Or was it hell? I thought I'd get into heaven if there was such a thing. Didn't this count as fighting the good life? Maybe all I'd done was not enough. Maybe the lives I'd saved didn't outweigh all the ones I didn't. Alison Price. Maya Reyes. Jennifer Nguyen. Eliza. I'd committed plenty of sins beyond that, anyway. I hadn't been the perfect kid. Far from it, in fact. Even now I was a flawed adult. Wrath. Envy. Lust.

In too many movies to count I had heard the words "go into the light" and now that concept was indescribably appealing. I didn't feel quite in control of my body but regardless I willed it to lean forward. A warm rush of air brushed my collarbones and I felt as though my consciousness, my soul, my whatever was floating inches above my solid body.

Into the light.

Away from here.