Psychopathy

Chapter 21- Loss

Isabel looked towards the sky, curling and flexing her fingers absentmindedly. There were screams in the distance, screams that only minutes before she had been the source of. The dried blood was still on her fingers and horns, and she didn't have the motivation to go down to the lake and wash them off. She would do it later when she wasn't so bone-tired. For now, she was just going to sit on her throne, look up to the sky, and maybe get some sleep.

That was before a single tear ran down her cheek. She wiped the tear away, looking at it curiously. What was she crying for? She didn't feel sad. She didn't feel anything, really. She sat up slightly, confusion filling her. But then she felt pain explode in her chest, and she fell back onto her throne. She gripped her chest, trying to figure out exactly what was going on with her. The last time she felt pain like this... was during the transformation. No, that didn't sound right. This was something else. Something... deeper.

Finally, it hit her. She had known this pain when she was a child. A pain she had only known once, a pain she hadn't felt so strongly since. It wasn't as strong as she had felt it, but she knew exactly what this pain was.

It was grief.

But not her own grief. No, she knew full well what her own grief felt like. This was someone else's grief. She closed her eyes and grasped that grief, wondering who it belonged to. She knew if she followed the path the grief was leading, it would lead her to the source. She had a pretty good grasp on the grief and was able to follow it easily. She figured it belonged to one of the damned, but was surprised to find that the trail led up. Up to the Overworld. The world she'd been stolen from.

She finally found the end of the trail, but that was when the pain only intensified. She immediately knew why. She wasn't feeling just one person's grief. It was the grief of multiple people. She hung on to the thread just long enough to figure out the identities of the grief-stricken individuals. It became clear to her, and with a gasp, she let go of the thread.

It was her old team. They were the ones feeling such an immense amount of pain and grief. She wiped another tear away, and let out a sigh. She had felt from the connection that the grief wasn't for her. The grief was for someone else, someone up there.

She only wondered who they had lost and whether or not she'd be seeing them soon.

**********************

Reid stood in the cemetery, dressed in the suit he had only worn twice in his life. Once to Haley's funeral, and then to Tayler's. And after that day, he had shoved it as far back in his closet as he could. He had sworn then that the suit would never again see the light of day. He swore to himself that never again would he be too late. Never again would he not figure out the case in time. Never again would he lose someone close to him.

But he'd broken that promise, and now, here he was, in a cemetery wearing that damned suit.

He stood by his friends and teammates, his nails digging into his palms as he did his best to keep the tears out of his eyes. He'd already cried enough. He needed to be strong now, especially as he saw his friends fall apart. Garcia was openly sobbing, and Reid put his arm around her, trying to comfort her. But how could he comfort her, when he felt the same pain gnawing at his insides? He took a deep breath and focused on the casket.

Her casket.

He had to look away. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about how he had helped carry that casket. He didn't want to think about who was inside of it. And he most certainly didn't want to think about how, if they had just been quicker, maybe she wouldn't be inside of it.