Destruction

Chapter 10

(Hotchner's POV)

We arrive at the bar to find the kid already there. "What's your name, kid?" I ask him.

"Kyle Jackson, I uh-"

"What time was it when you believe you saw Ms. McMillan?" I interrupt him.

"Uh, I don't know. 1:30, 2:00 a.m. maybe? I'm not sure," He says.

Where the hell were they before this?

I assign an officer to get the tape from last night while I look around. "You don't require I.D. here?" I ask the manager.

"Uh, no sir," The manager stammers.

"Do you know how much I could get you on right now? Because of you, you let an innocent girl walk out with a psycho killer. Do you understand that?" I growl at him.

"I- I'm sorry, sir."

I disregard him and walk into the video room. The footage is up on the screen and it's in the process of being fast forwarded to the the specific time.

I watch all of the screens, waiting. Then I see her. "Stop," I say. The footage is stopped immediately.

I watch as she stands with that Peter guy - if that's his real name. They're dancing on the dance floor and for a second, I feel like she's enjoying it. I know she's drunk, though.

Soon after, Kyle comes up and speaks to Peter momentarily. He takes Lucy from Peter and they begin dancing on the floor. They exchange words.

"What were you speaking about with her?" I turn to Kyle.

"We exchanged our names and I asked about that guy. I was worried that maybe he wouldn't like me dancing with her. Man, I never tho-"

"It's fine, Kyle. It's not your fault, kid," I tell him.

We gather some more information and finally leave.

(Lucy's POV)

I don't wake up the next day until late in the afternoon. And still, my head is pounding. "Ah, the princess is awake," Peter says.

He's sitting in a chair across the room, watching me. I groan, sitting up. My head pounds more. "See, for your little indiscretion with that low life last night, you'll live with that little hangover of yours," Peter snaps.

"Indiscretion?" I question. What is he talking about? What happened last night?

"You and that kid that stole you from me on the dance floor. You can have your little headache and I'm going to watch you as you squirm," Peter says.

I sigh, gripping my head. The pain is horrible and I desperately want it to stop. I lie back down on the bed, shoving my head deep into the pillows.

"Enjoy your pain, bitch," Peter growls, walking out.

I let tears roll down my cheeks because I just can't take it anymore. I can't take everything that has happened to me. Luke, Jason, Peter, Luke, Jason, Jeremy, Luke, Jason.

I let tears fall as I sit there and cover my mouth, forbidding sobs to escape my lips. I will myself to calm down so I won't make my migraine worse.

I wipe the tears from my face and try to make myself sink further and further into the bed. When I think I've gotten as far down as I can, I sigh.

My head continuously pounds as I decide to move. I get up and head towards the bathroom. I search through the cabinets searching for something, anything.

I find 6 pills at the bottom of a basket. I don't know what they are, but I take all of them.

I don't know what to expect out of the pills as I sit there on the bed, waiting. For a second, I wish the combination would be so bad that they kill me. Then I think that's probably unlikely.

I'm in the bed waiting for an hour before I'm knocked out.

It's not until 10:30 when Jeremy barges in that I'm awoken. I sit up and look around, momentarily confused.

"Get up, we're going out."

I stand and look at him. "Peter just took me out last night," I protest.

"I don't give a shit. I haven't had my turn so I'm taking it." He's pacing back and forth, rubbing his hands along his face. "Get ready!" He shouts.

I hold back a sob as I find something to wear. I decide on just a black knee-length dress and some simple silver jewelry.

When I finish changing, I put some light makeup on and put my hair up in a messy bun. I walk out, hoping that I look okay to him.

I don't want to deal with him thinking that I don't look okay and then having to change and whatnot.

He nods approvingly and we walk out. He takes my arm and shoves me into the car. I sit there and try to will my tears not to fall.

We drive off and it's late before we arrive at some restaurant. We walk in and Jeremy speaks, "Reservation for two under Robinson."

I wonder if that's his real last name. We get put in a booth in the back corner and I look sadly down at our table. The waitress watches me, a frown on her lips.

I want to cry and scream and beg someone to help me, but I don't dare to do so. I don't know if Jeremy has a gun on him or not.

As our food gets here, the waitress drops a napkin in my lap. It has something scribbled on it.

I saw the way that man grabbed you. Head to the bathroom if you need help.

I frown. "May I be excused to the restroom?" I ask. The waitress is out of earshot.

"No," Jeremy grumbles.

"Please, I have to pee," I beg him.

"I said no!" He slams his hands on the table, his knife clenched tightly in his fist.

People around us stare and I look down, blinking back tears. I had a chance. Peter would have let me use the restroom.

I eat in silence, trying not to draw attention over here. People still glance in our direction, but neither Jeremy or I look their way.

When dinner is finally over, Jeremy and I head back. I sit in silence as we drive. When the house comes into view, I dread what's going to happen next.

Jeremy has that rush that I noticed every time he rapes me. Whenever he's feeling it, he has a certain step to him that he doesn't usually have elsewhere.

As I thought would happen, Jeremy drags me upstairs and throws me on the bed. The next two hours are agonizingly painful as he goes at it over and over again.

Several times, he releases inside of me, reaching his high. He'd fall over, calm down, and then go again. I sob as he does so.

When he finally leaves, I curl into a ball and cry myself to sleep.