Twisted Vengeance

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     A young, brown-haired woman was fleeing into an upper-class neighborhood in Virginia. She could finally be freed of her mask now that she had escaped the crime scene. Very few people would recognize her for who she really, truly is. The BAU would recognize her for who she really was. They would see her as Elle Greenway. But no one else would.

    Poor Amanda Walker, though. It really was never her intention to kill. But the Hotchner's rash decisions had sculpted her into this. She would never again call him Hotch. Calling him "Hotch" would symbolize friendship. They were not friends. They never would be friends again.

       She was flying under the radar. The poor, poor BAU likely thought the unsub was a male. She was going to find a way to get to Prentiss. Hotchner was always protective of his team. Except for Elle- that is. He always treated her less than the others. Maybe that was why she ended up being shot on her couch. Sound familiar?

     The neighborhood likely had some 38-year-old white women with brown hair. The only trouble would be finding out who lived alone. Though she was skilled in the- murder department, overpowering more than one person could make a scene and disrupt her goal. Again, the intention was never to kill. It was to show them the error of their ways. That she made the rules.

      Elle found a door to approach. She knew her ruse, and it was easy. She was from a survey company doing a consensus on the population variations of Virginia. That was not something hard to forget because she knew she couldn't mess it up. No one asked questions. People were so god damn naiive. 

     "Hi, I'm Emily Prentiss with Virginia State doing a consensus on the population variations of Virginia property owners. I have a few questions to ask that could help achieve a greater living experience if you're interested in completing a quick survey. Would you be willing to help?" Elle said, using Prentiss's name as a cover-up.

    "No, I'm sorry, my husband would be the one you'd want to ask," the woman responded. "Thank you, though." The door slammed shut in front of Elle. Well, she has married anyway. That wouldn't have worked anyway.

     Elle arrived at a new house, a few doors down. She repeated the same thing at this house. This time, the woman answered, "Sure. I'm fine with doing a survey."

     "Great! Thank you, ma'am. Ok, may I ask you what your name is?"

     "It's Eliza Reynolds," the women responded.

      "Ok, I only need a couple more things. Could I have your age and the number of people living at this residence?"

       "I am 38, and I am the only one living at this residence. My husband divorced me a few years ago. He has custody of my kid. Would you like to come in?" This was the perfect victim. She was also betrayed. It would be a shame for the kid, though. Though this was a good point of entry, it wasn't the time. Not yet.

      "No, I have things to get back to. I'm so sorry about your husband. Believe me, I understand how betraying men can be. Anyways, thank you for your data," Elle said, a matter of fact tone in her voice.

       "Ok, have a nice day. I hope the survey helped you out. I've never heard of that company before. I hope it's doing good work," Eliza Reynolds said. She was so happy. Elle really didn't want to do this. Once she could get to Prentiss- everything would be a whole lot easier. She wouldn't have to kill these innocent women. 

      Elle hated it. She killed these people like the Fisher King had shot her. Because she hated herself for doing it. In a way, she was killing herself, punishing herself, for all she had to do. There was regret, but her need for vengeance outweighed her moral compass. It wasn't selfish if it was someone else who gave her trauma impossible to live a normal life with.

     Elle went back to her house. She had been forced to get a new house. Despite her scrubbing the door constantly, the word Rules was constantly imprinted on the door in blood. Her new house was simplistic and had deadbolts and max security. She had learned from last time. She wouldn't make the same mistake of trusting people.

     Did the team think about her though? Did they think about her? She wanted them to remember. Most of all, she wanted Reid to remember. Did Reid care about her like she once cared about him? It shouldn't matter, but it did in every way. Because Elle had broken so many times that she didn't care how much her soul would be fractured.

    Now, the only phase left was to devise her plan. The only simple way was to break through the door. Elle would check for unlocks first. Her Glock 17 would be the perfect way to get Eliza back on the couch. Then... bang. 

    As soon as Emily Prentiss let her guard down. She would be taken care of. Everything would change for everyone. They would know it was her after that. But then they'd have to find her. And that wouldn't happen if Elle could help it.

    There was nothing to do to pass the time. There was a lot of guilt overcoming Elle. These women didn't deserve it. Emily did, though. It was going to be worth it for her. It had to be. This sense of vengeance was twisted, but it was Elle's only current motivator. Finally, she decided to sit and think. Contemplation was going to help her convince herself she was doing the right thing.

     Elle eventually drifted off to sleep, however, she was restless. She awoke hours later, around four hours later. The clock read 9:47. It was dark outside, so Elle felt it fit to go.

    Elle didn't drive her car. The car left traces. Elle knew Penelope. Elle knew her way of finding paper trails. She made sure not to leave any. Instead, she put on her ski mask. She walked into the woods surrounding her own neighborhood. Instead, she went up to the neighborhood with Eliza Reynolds. She never saw exactly what the neighborhood was called.

    Valencia Falls. It was a nice name. The neighborhood wouldn't be as nice anymore. That was a pity. People would move away after this. They would. Because they will now know something: It could have been them. You're welcome, other residents. Sorry, Eliza.

    Elle approached the house. It was a nice house. In a nice neighborhood. With a nice woman. Guilt tore through Elle. All of that would change. She tried her best to stomach her regret. When Elle arrived at the door, she took a deep, reassuring breath. She turned the handle. It was unlocked. Too naiive. Too naiive. 

Authors Note:

A lot happened in this chapter. I was so excited to reveal this part of the story. I hope you guys enjoyed it a lot. Sorry, the parts are so close together. I had sort of a writer's block with the last chapter, but I was incredibly excited to post this. Thanks for the support on this story.