Jail changed Spencer Reid.
At first, it was just little things here and there. But then it got worse and worse until he was out of control.
Now, he's doing the things he spent his whole life stopping. And then he meets her. Will she be the one to...
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"Jack and Coke," I shouted to the bartender to be heard over the ridiculously loud music. I lean against the bar with a bored look on my face. But I'm not bored. In fact, I'm practically vibrating at what's going to happen tonight. I can feel Spencer's eyes on me from across the bar, watching me to incase he needs to intervein. But he wont have too. I'm capable of taking care of this myself, but the sentiment is appreciated.
"What's a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?" Victim #1 places a hand on the small of my back, a little too close to my ass if you ask me. I resist the urge to shudder. His hands are rough and heavy, nothing like the soft and sweet of my Spencer.
I grip my drink, placing my hand over the top of it; the last thing I wanted was to be drugged by a man who wasn't Spencer. I plaster on my sweetest, most innocent smile before turning to face him.
I size him up quickly. He's tall, I'd say about 5'11. He has the eyes the color of the ocean on a sunny day, and hair that matches the shore. He's attractive, but it's the forgettable type. He's nothing even close to my Spencer. No one compares to Spencer.
"Long day! I needed a little pick me up," I smile as I hold up my drink. He smirks, his eyes scanning my body, drinking me in as if I was the beer in his hand. I continue, "what about you?"
He sighs, "heartbreak. You know, the typical."
Liar. This man was pathetic. Sympathy wasn't usually my game. But, tonight, it was. "Well, she's pretty fucking stupid to let a man like you go." I lean in, letting the distance between us shorten and my hand gently caress his arm. I lock eyes with Spencer from over the man's shoulder, he looks pissed and I know its because someone else is holding my attention for the time being.
"What's you name, sweetheart?"
I shudder at the thought of giving him my real name. So, I don't. "Serena," I hold out my hand and hold back a shiver as he shakes it. His handshake is firm, and I'd say he does this a lot. I'd say he probably has a job where handshakes mean something? Finance? Business? Damn, Spencer's rubbing off on me.
"Jepson. You have a beautiful name," his smile was bright. Too bright to be real.
I smiled back at him, batting my eyelashes, "thank you. I was named after Serena Joy. The mistress from 'The Handmaids Tale,'" I watched him sip his drink as he digested what I'd just said.
Serena Joy was an absolute anomaly. She could go from sweet and caring, to absolute devil in two seconds flat. When she didn't get her way, she would lie. And when it all goes to shit, she burns down the house and points the finger at the others.
I guess I wasn't like that. Not yet at least. But I knew I could be capable of something like that. Burning down the metaphorical house so I could get my way, just to turn around and point the finger at those who are in power. Even if it cost me said finger. Or my life.
