𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 [spencer reid]

31. control

[tw: drug use]

          "𝑭𝑩𝑰!"

          The girl was jolted awake by the bursting open of the metal garage that trapped her in this dungeon. While she tried to part her eyelids, she was met with unbearable beacons of light. Footsteps flooded the room along with muffled yells. When she acquired the strength to lift her head, Francesca felt a surge of energy overtake her.

"Checka, can you hear me?" Spencer Reid knelt before her, hands rushing to shove his gun in his holster. "Checka?"

Francesca formed a groggy smile. "Reid," she croaked, trying her hardest to stay awake. "You're here."

Spencer stared at Francesca, hands held out before her. "Just take my hand," he advised.

Francesca went to move her arms, but they were frozen. She felt the itchy rope rub against her wrists. "I–I'm tied up," she whispered hoarsely. "You have to untie me."

"Just take my hand," Spencer repeated, failing to move from his position.

"I can't," Francesca winced, fighting against the restraints. She looked back at him with bug eyes. "Help me."

Slowly, the room got quieter. Francesca turned her head, seeing the previously opened door now closed. Her breath hitched as she whipped her focus back to Spencer. However, this time, the boy was blurring. "Reid, no," Francesca whimpered, shaking in her seat.

Despite her wishes, Spencer started flashing white, eventually disintegrating into thin air. "No!" Francesca managed to scream once he disappeared, tears rushing down her face. "Help me –"

.・。.・

" – please! Spencer!"

         Francesca felt whiplash as her previously drooping head was thrusted forward. She was hyperventilating, sweating bullets. She frantically examined the room, eyes straining to see anything in front of her. As there had been, there was no one. She had hallucinated it. Spencer wasn't there to save her.

         "I'm sorry, did you think he was here?" her kidnapper's arrogant tone flooded her ears as he stepped out from a dark corner of the room. He wore a mocking pout. "Poor girl."

         "He's coming," Francesca insisted, feeling the intensity of her dry throat. "He'll arrest you."

         Patrick crossed his arms. "Except for the part where he won't. He can't find us, Francesca. No one knows where you are."