okay haha im turning this into criminal minds sorry not sorry.
(not literally)
im too fuckin dumb to write a reid fic okay.
and im really sorry about the very long wait, and i can sense with my spidey senses that some of u gave up on this book and on me.
you see, my life, opposite to my fren over there sofia's, has made a complete and literal 180°
like its gotten pretty bad, i will spare all the gory details so you can just enjoy the fucking rest of the book
i regret chapter 15 with every fiber of my being.
flashbacks r in italics for this chapter just so u kno
JUNIPER
He would drag on behind me, everytime I would stop for him to catch up I lost him again.
He was so out of it, obviously drugged.
Physically, he was here; mentally, I felt he was playing the hours before over and over again.
"Go." He would call out to me if I stopped for him while he fell behind.
"Okay Carl, what is going on?" I finally ask after two hours of his walker-like self straggling on behind me.
"I told you," the sweaty boy started. "he drugged me."
I felt bad for him, but he knew I was onto him.
There was clinking in every step he takes, and he's still too high to notice it.
-
"Carl!" I yelled as I yanked him out of the building.
The explosion was small, but since it was on the first floor it was enough to bring the whole building down.
I made it out with a few scratches and a broken wrist.
Carl on the other hand, was the one stuck in the building.
As a pulled him out I noticed his bloody torso, a slash straight across his stomach.
Of course, I panicked, but Carl remained sane. Or so I thought.
I took off my shirt to wrap his stomach and put pressure on the wound.
My wrist ached with every single tear I had to make in the shirt.
I ended up with a loose knot around Carls naked torso as I used his shirt and some sticks as a splint for my hand.
He was still calm though. I wondered why he couldn't scream or cry.
His stomach was ripped open, blood pouring out and his muscle exposed. Yet, he couldn't shed a tear.
-
My boy, all bloody and high, he's never looked sadder. The saddest I've seen him was when he poured his feelings out to me around when we first met.
It's been about three months since I've ever seen him truly sad.
I don't know if the hallucinogenic effects of the drugs have a negative effect on him, or he may be sober and angry at himself.
"Carl, let's stop here." I interrupt his dragging feet and occasional sighs as I point to a series of urban homes in the formerly populous area of Atlanta.
"'kay," He groans.
His makeshift bandage on his naked stomach is beginning to drip, and my loose wrap made from Carl's shirt is beginning to fall off.
He drags himself as he walks toward a pink house with a blue door.
It's more of a calming pink really, rather than the one that would bust out in your face.
It blends in with the rest of the neutral colored houses.
My concentration on houses is taken away by the groaning of a walker.
I take my gun and butt the roamer in the temple with the handle.
Thats when I notice Carl on the ground.
