[✓] 𝐶𝐼𝑁𝐷𝐸𝑅 | 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐃

𝟔 | 𝐒𝐄𝐗, 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇, 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 | 𝟐/𝟐

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞

— 𝒞 —

"𝐈𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐒 '𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐄.'"

Charlie sighed, crouching down next to the bloody body of Holly that had been found that morning. Her eyes roamed over the word carved into her stomach, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Her latex gloves already on, she picked up the red leather wallet that had been lying next to her.

It hardly took a moment to realize that it belonged to Holly, and, now a little curious, she pulled the girl's ID out. Her eyes briefly glimpsed her age. Sixteen.

Charlie shut her eyes and sighed once more. Sixteen.

She couldn't feel more incredibly stupid—she knew that this girl was younger than nineteen. It was obvious. Yet she didn't press, and now this girl—this teenager—was dead.

As Morgan and Hotch approached, she tucked the ID back into the wallet and turned to them with a frown.

"She was only sixteen," Charlie told them before leaving the wallet on the ground and standing up.

"He's getting angrier and blaming the police for not stopping his impulses," Hotch replied.

"He's certainly not cooling off between kills anymore," Spencer chimed in.

Morgan crouched down next to her body, his hands clasped together. "Which means we're looking at a whole lot of bodies."

"Meanwhile, in two days," Hotch sighed, "Congresswoman Steyer's going to stand up at the Capitol and declare Washington crime-free."

"Hey," Emily interjected, her eyebrows furrowed, "what did she want with you the other day, anyway?"

Hotch turned to face her with a stringent expression. "It was a private conversation."

"Right." Emily nodded quickly, her eyes slightly wide now. "Of course. I'm sorry."

Morgan sighed as he stood up. "I guess we know Nathan Harris isn't our UnSub."

"Should we call Gideon and tell him not to bother with the eval?" Charlie asked with raised eyebrows, though Spencer quickly shook his head.

"No. He wants to understand what's happening to him. He deserves to know."

— 𝒮 —

Spencer, who was sitting at his desk, glanced up towards Charlie, who was sitting at her own.

She was biting her thumbnail, and her cheeks were a little hollowed in. She was staring hard at her monitor, though her hand on the mouse didn't move.

"Charlie," Spencer called, and when she didn't acknowledge him, he repeated her name, a bit louder. "Charlie."

"Hm?" Her eyes finally drew to his, and he peered into them with a little worry.

"You okay?"

She sighed, and she gave her nail a break as she lowered her hand. Her eyes were on his for a moment, though they then dropped to her desk.

"She was sixteen," Charlie said softly, and he frowned, now knowing that she was agonizing over the latest body. "Not even an adult. I had talked to her yesterday, I knew she wasn't twenty-one or nineteen, I . . . I should've . . ."