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You took my soul and wiped it clean -all I want, Kodaline.
My apartment smells like the morning, if the morning had a particular smell. Everything smells new in the morning, new day new scent. I walk out of my bedroom and into my kitchen/ living room. The kitchen smells of coffee, and I can hear my coffee machine.
Spencer stands at my counter, still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. His hand is rested on the marble surface, the other holding an empty mug. "Spencer, where did you sleep last night?" I ask. "Oh, on your couch. You insisted I stayed over." He tells me.
My brain is filled with memories of last night. Our karaoke session to my favourite songs, it'd be harder to sing along to Spencer's considering his favourites are classical pieces. I remember holding a hairbrush as a microphone and belting out lyrics. I'll probably get a noise complaint.
I look down at my watch to read the time. 6:03. We have 57 minutes before we have to leave for work. "I'm sorry for kind of taking over your kitchen, I just need coffee to function." Spencer apologises from the other side of the kitchen. "What's mine is yours." I reply. He shoots me a smile. My lock screen brightens up, and I notice a new text from Penelope. 'New case, get here ASAP.'
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I click the bottom of my pen against the wooden round table, waiting eagerly for Garcia and Hotch. Each new case is just another tragedy, a broken family, and a killer to catch. It's repetitive, brutal and heartbreaking. I can't even offer the family much help or support, because I need to focus on my job. I don't think they'd like a stranger comforting them either to be perfectly honest.
Of course, I've considered leaving. Especially after the first case I investigated. The first case is the worst.
I can hear Garcia before I see her. She's talking in a rapid pace to Hotch, who responds with barely audible grunts. "Hotch, I can't even bear to look at this. I had to look at pictures of pandas after seeing one photo, I need good thoughts not bad thoughts." She says frantically, her hands waving about dramatically. Hotch takes the remote, and the image connects to the board. A male body lays beside a car, the passenger door wide open. He lies on the road, and blood pastes his forehead. His arms are outstretched on either side of him, fingertips covered in black liquid. The most terrifying part is the expression on his face. His mouth is twisted into a sinister like smile, and his head faces downward slightly.
"No one has reached out to identify this yet, but he's approximately 27 years old, works in a local retail store in New York according to a man who kept anonymous. His estimated time of death is about 1:34am." Hotch informs us, fidgeting with the remote in his hand. "What's that black stuff on his hands?" I ask. "It looks like iodine, which is actually a deep violet." Reid replies, not looking directly at me. "Our unsub could be a scientist?" "Perhaps, but iodine is easily accessible"
