Beautiful Nightmare (On Hold)

Chapter Eighteen

Gandhi said, "Better to be violent if there's violence in our hearts than to put on the cloak of non-violence to cover impotence."

~

"Angel." A voice whispers from far away, "Wake up my sweet little Angel!"

My head feels fuzzy as I regain feeling in my fingers and toes slowly. Groaning I turn my head and slowly open my eyes only for them to widen.

My uncle's face is centimeters from mine, his mouth twisted in his crooked grin as he stares down at me. Whimpering I try to shift backwards only igniting the pain throughout my body.

"You're okay sweetheart." His hand comes closer to me as he brushes my hair off my forehead.

Instead of removing it after that he trails his rough and dirty fingers down the side of my face before letting them rest on my neck.

"P-please." I beg trying not to move.

His body hovers over me making me feel even smaller. The chuckle he lets out seems to echo continuously, never fading as his hands move to grip me.

The hand that rest against my neck wraps around to add pressure while the other moves to my hip rubbing threatening circles.

"Shh, I can make it all better Angel." His grin turns sinister, "You don't have to worry."

-

My eyes open slowly as I register the pounding that is racking my brain, feeling the aggressive pounding radiating from the back of my head I groan. As my vision clears I take notice of the hospital room I'm currently laying in and the corded machines attached to me.

The events that led me here come rushing back to me as I remember feeling faint while talking to Hotchner. I can't help but feel angry at the fact that people I don't know or trust have been in charge of caring for me.

My arm goes to remove the Iv and other cords but stops as pain erupts from my shoulder. I quickly realize I used my hurt shoulder without thinking and switch. Ripping the cords off my body, I toss them onto the floor ignoring the hint of blood that appears on my arm from the Iv.

"Fucking hell," I mutter quietly to myself while looking down at my attire.

Someone had dressed me in a hospital gown that was way too big and had done something with my clothes. Looking around the room I don't find them anywhere and can't help but feel more irritated at the chance they've probably been thrown out. Leaving me with the question as to where my knife and gun are.

Shifting in the bed, I sit up and hang my legs off the edge going to stand only to stop as the door opens. I tense as in walks most of my team, David leading them.

"What are you doing?" Rossi asks sternly.

Glancing around I avoid eye contact with the others and instead question back,"Where are my gun and knife?"

"Get back in bed." He replies ignoring me.

I tilt my head and look at him, his hair is messy and he looks like he aged another five years. He looks beyond stressed out.