Jessie's POV
"Please, my mom works for the FBI! She'll find you; I'm supposed to be at the office right now!" I cry even harder. He drives for what seems like ten minutes, then stops the car. The girl touches my shoulder. Her eyes are bagged, she looks pale and fragile. "Broken" is the exact word.
He comes into the back. "Please don't do anything, please!" He ties the girl on a hook and then comes closer to me. "I've been waiting a long time to do this," he says as he brings my pants down.
"Stop, no!" I repeat those words like a mantra, again and again, but it's not working. Mom said it would work.
Emily's POV
"Four more bodies were discovered; in total, this lady has killed nine people in a month," Reid adds, looking at the medical examiner report.
"She?" Morgan asks, also studying the report.
"Yes, the knife marks aren't knife marks at all; they're probably made with a sharper, more precise object," he continues.
"I'm thinking a large scalpel. Also, these women didn't fight back; the M.E. report shows rocuronium bromide in all the victims' systems, also known as the drug doctors use during surgery," Rossi adds. "The killings and everything were too neat and thought out; it's most likely a woman going after the main reproductive organ," he concludes.
I look at the pictures again—women with jobs, husbands, and probably children, just taken out of the world. Finally, Hotch enters the room, putting his phone in his pocket. "We have a problem," he announces, motioning for us to go into the private office.
"What's wrong?" I ask, concerned.
"The second victim, Martha Walsh, was pregnant, almost at full term," Hotch says, looking at all of us.
"No offense, but what does that have to do with us?" Morgan raises an eyebrow.
"The baby is not in her womb. The examiner says she was cut differently from the others in a circular motion, mimicking a c-section," he explains. The room goes quiet. "With that type of carefulness and precision, the baby is most likely alive," he adds. After a moment of silence, JJ speaks up.
"Is the husband here?" Hotchner nods. "I'll go talk to him," JJ says, leaving the room in a hurry. "We need to know how she's finding her victims," Rossi says, dialing Garcia. "Garcia, check social media like Facebook or online dating apps for anyone who has followed or been in contact with the victims."
"That shouldn't take long; I'll call you in a jiffy."
Jessie's POV
He drives back to the alleyway. He speaks for the whole drive, but I can't hear anything. Everything is silent. My eyes fill with tears; my hands shake. "Wednesday's coming here, or I will find that you and Clara suffer for your inconveniences," he threatens as he opens the door. I step out and head back to the train station.
The ride leaves my mind blank. I can't tell anyone. While walking home, I try to understand the events, but they come back in flashbacks. Finally, I stumble to my apartment.
The short distance to my apartment feels like a marathon. "You're bleeding!" a runner exclaims, noticing the stains on my joggers. I brush off her concern with a weak reassurance, eager to retreat into the safety of my own space."I'm Fine"
Once inside, the numbness gives way to overwhelming emotion. I stumble to the bathroom, the walls closing in around me. The sound of the shower running is a lifeline, promising to wash away the physical remnants of the ordeal.
3:45 PM. I glance at my phone, a stark reminder of the time my life changed forever. The phone rings—Penelope Garcia. I answer with trembling hands, struggling to find my voice amidst the turmoil.
"Hey, birthday girl, are you home yet?" Penelope's cheerful voice pierces through my turmoil, a stark contrast to my own shattered state.
"Yeah, sorry, I'm about to hop in the shower, but I'll be done by the time you come here," I manage to reply, my voice cracking with suppressed emotion.
"Okie, I'm already on my way, and I brought ice cream!" Penelope's enthusiasm is a bittersweet reminder of normalcy, a beacon in my darkened world. "Well, the shower's running. Bye."
I hang up, unable to bear looking at my reflection in the mirror. The bruises on my body are a testament to the horrors endured, each mark a painful reminder of the violation.
I collapse onto the bathroom floor, the hot water cascading over me,I hold my hand to the mouth to soften the sound of my crying. Why me? Why today?
The shower helps to calm some of my nerves, but now I feel numb. I grab my overnight bag and pack clothes and hygiene products. Penelope is almost here. Breathe. Breathe. I remind myself that my mother is a profiler who works with other profilers. They're going to suspect something if I show any emotion. So I push down the turmoil inside me. Don't dwell on it. Don't feel. Don't react. If anybody asks, I'll just say I had a bad day, plaster on a smile, and hold it together. At least not in front of them.
I sit on the front steps, waiting for Penelope's car to arrive. My foot shakes uncontrollably on the ground below.
The only thing racing through my head is that I've been raped on my birthday. What do I do after this? How do I feel?
Finally, Penelope pulls in, her headlights almost blinding me. I quickly walk over to the car and slide into the passenger seat.
"Let this sleepover begin," she says cheerfully, pulling out of the driveway. I tell myself to avoid eye contact and keep my gaze fixed on the road ahead. Don't think about it.
"You okay?" she asks, her voice filled with concern. My heart drops.
"Yeah, just stressed," I blurt out, trying to sound casual while the weight of what happened threatens to crush me.
YOU ARE READING
the girl who lost things
Fanfictionjessie is trying to adapt to her life as a daughter of the bau after her mother gets a job there. She finally wants a normal life after everything that happened when she was younger. but, her secrets can only stay hidden for so long. this is a crimi...
