Innocent Son

Chapter Eight

Keeping the gun pointed into my back, I walked out to the man's car. I was shaking. Every bone and muscle in my body was vibrating. The one thing I was worried about happening while I was here was actually happening. It didn't feel real. I figured at any moment I'd wake up from the nightmare I was having. Spencer and Aaron would be asleep soundly next to me. Had they realized I'm gone? Why didn't someone follow me out?

"Get in the car." Every word he spoke dripped in hatred. I was standing in front of the driver's side door. "You'll be driving." He dangled the keys in front of me over my shoulder causing the gun to push into my back. I so hoped someone would walk out of the station. Even one of those nasty, bigotted officers. But still, no one came.

I nervously reached for the keys, feeling his hot breath on my neck as I grabbed them. He shoved me toward the door as if to tell me to unlock the car. I struggled to stick the key into the door handle. It was an older car, probably from the 90s. I didn't know enough about cars to tell the make or model. Once I was able to swing the door open, he shoved me into the seat, hitting my arm on the steering wheel. That was going to be the least of my injuries I was sure. I knew what he wanted me to do. He wasn't going to go around to the other side of the car to wait for me to open the passenger seat. If he had I would've bolted, and he knew that. My mind was racing with ways to get out of this as I reached across the centre console. I had left my gun in the station, like an idiot, so I didn't even have anything to protect myself with. I shouldn't have come out here in the first place. I shouldn't have come to San Francisco. I should've just told Hotch I couldn't go. I could've made something up.

Once the door was opened, keeping the gun trained on me, he walked around the front of the car and taking his place in the seat next to me. His presence felt like it took up all the air in the small, cramped vehicle. I knew how to drive, but it felt like it was taking every ounce of motivation and strength to turn the ignition on. My hands shook as I jammed absently into the ignition. Eventually the car sprung to life, and realizing I had no way of escaping now, my hands gripped the wheel until my knuckles were white with tension. If I wasn't still breathing I was sure my throat was completely closed. My mouth was sticky and dry.

"If you do anything, I will kill you." He shoved the gun across the console, pressing it against my arm. You're going to kill me anyway, why drag it out?

"Where are we going." My voice was shallow and barely audible.

"Don't ask any fucking questions. Just do what I tell you." He barked. I winced and put the car into reverse. The parking lot was only half full. There was a clear view of the car I was in from the front of the station, if someone would just leave...

"Y/N?" Muffled through the glass of the car, Hotch's voice called for me. A look of panic was plastered across his face. "Y/N?"

"You do anything I shoot you in the gut right now." His voice was gravely and low. I knew I would never be able to get his voice out of my head for as long as I lived.

"Drive away." I didn't move. I couldn't tear my eyes away from Hotch's, who was running toward the car, gun raised.

"DRIVE AWAY." I cried at the jab of the gun in my side. Another bruise to add to the collection.

I sped as fast as I could out of the parking lot, trying to tune out Hotch's shouts. I didn't want his yells of terror to be the last things I heard him say. I could see him running after the car in the rear-view mirror. Tears spilling onto my cheeks and into my lap.

I knew the man wouldn't kill me yet. He had to torture me and rape me. It was his MO, it was who he was. He couldn't let the sexual aspect of his sadism go. Especially with a victim like me. But I couldn't risk it. If he killed me, I'd be another body to add to his collection, and he'd get away and kill more people. If I gave my team time to find me, maybe they'd catch him. Hopefully before he kills me.

I drove into the dark Californian night. A gun shoved into my ribs.