Trails of a Psychopath (A Criminal Minds Fanfic)

Trails of a Pyschopath (A Crminal Minds FanFic)

Chapter One

~Rachel's POV~

    I held a finger to my lips once I heard my sister's whimper across the room from me. I strained to hear my father's snoring from downstairs. I knew we needed to get out, and we needed to get out fast. My sister's eyes were brimming with tears, her hair in a sloppy ponytail.
She nodded and placed a pale hand over her mouth. My hands were shaking violently as I waved for her to follow me. With only the clothes on our backs and some money I stole from my father's wallet, we crept down the hall. Pictures of me and my family hung on the wall and all I could think was...all lies.
I had an intense urge to break every single picture that hung from the wall. The anger, the resentment, the depression. Everything.
We used to be a family. I held my hand out to my sister, Charlotte, and she took it without hesitation. Her bottom lip was trembling and she looked so helpless.
Charlotte didn't deserve to be treated like this. My mother was no help to us at all, she left us as soon as she found out my father's problem. I thought bitterly of her after that. I was the one who took care of everybody. I was the one who made sure me and Charlotte had a decent life to live.
My father is sick in the head, to put it bluntly. He refuses to take his medications, resulting in his scary meltdowns. He takes his anger out on anyone close to him. I always make sure I'm his first target, instead of Charlotte. I shook my head, I needed to focus. Our feet finally reached the bottom of the stairs.
Our television was on in the living room, the flashing screen projecting on the walls. I could make out my dad's hand dangling off the couch, slightly twitching from time to time. I took a deep breath, this was our chance. Our only chance. I kissed Charlotte's forehead and pushed her forward. I kept my finger on my lips and pointed towards the front door.
She nodded, quickly scurrying to the door while I kept an eye on my father. It was pitch black except for the television, giving us feeble light to guide us away. I turned away from my father, watching as Charlotte slipped quietly out of the door. Once the door closed shut, I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding.
Suddenly, a bright light flashed over me, blinding and confusing me for a few seconds. My heart stopped and jumped to my throat as I turned around, my fists tensing. Shit.
His eyes were wide and dazed, his lips parted slightly. Jet black hair that stuck up in different directions and pajamas ruffled from sleep. He let out a huge yawn and scratched his stomach, blinking slowly. He looked confused, my stance tense as I straightened my posture from the floor.
He looked at me and then started to mumble at himself. Shaking his head, his fingers stared twitching as he looked behind him, paranoid. His eyes darted around the room, fists clenched fully now.
"SHUT UP YOU!" I flinched as he screamed suddenly at the empty space next to him. There was no one there. This was common behavior for my father. He spoke to things that weren't there, would see things that we couldn't see. He took a step towards me, causing me to take a step back. I had to be very careful.
"Sweetie? What are you still doing up?" He asked, actin as if nothing had happened. This certain version of him was almost..genuine. A voice that was warm as honey and oozed with care. To anyone else, he would've fooled them. Except I've lived with him since I was born, I knew what this little game of his was. He looked up the dark staircase and then back down at me. Time was ticking.
"Can you go get your mother, please? She has to take you kids to school! Don't want you two being late!" I sighed quietly, we went through this almost every night. He always asks for her and at first, I played along until he forgot about her. Now, it's no use. He keeps asking and I have to tell him the same thing over and over.
It isn't uncommon for him to burst into one of his meltdowns during this conversation. He hates hearing that he's wrong, that she left a long time ago.  I shook my head at him, opening my mouth to speak. My throat was parched and I tried my best not to look at the door.  I swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the dryness strangling my throat.
"D-Dad...mom isn't here...remember?" I said slowly, cautiously articulating every word to let him digest it. He looked at me confused, his eyebrows knitting together and his finger tapping on his chin. I felt sick to my stomach, I was defenseless and I couldn't do anything. He chuckled and ran a hand through his messy hair.
"Did she go to the store? This late at night?" He gave off a light chuckle, shaking his head absently. I was grasping for words but came up empty. He looked relaxed, for now. A small part of me thought that maybe he would just go back to bed.
I just stood there and waited for him to leave, go back to the couch, go upstairs, anything. I glanced behind me, barely seeing Charlotte's head from the window in the living room. She was watching me, waiting for her big sister to come out safely. To take her away from this house of horror.
My hope was short lived as he suddenly slammed his fist into the wall. The drywall easily crumbled underneath his fist as a large hole was formed. The sudden noise caused me to jump and cry out in surprise. He raised his fist again, eyes locking in on me. I gasped, reacting too late as his knuckle managed to clip my jaw.
    I groaned as the pain exploded onto my face and I hit the wall. I desperately tried getting away, pushing myself with my hands. I quickly stumbled away from him and had my hand on the knob when I felt his hand grab a fistful of my hair.
I screamed as he gave a violet tug, feeling multiple strands of hair getting plucked from my scalp. I turned and started punching and scratching blindly. Finally, my nails scratched his face hard enough that he loosened his grip on my hair. I breathed heavily and threw open the door, hearing it crash against the wall.
I could hear my dad shouting as I scooped up Charlotte and took off running. I cried out when I slipped on a puddle, sending me and Charlotte sprawling on the sidewalk. There had been a storm last night which prevented us from escaping sooner. Charlotte started crying as she scraped her arm on the concrete.
I didn't have the time to stop and check her, so I just picked her back up and regained speed. My chin was scraped, including the palms of my hands and the underside of my arms. I could hear his heavy footsteps thudding against the ground and his labored breathing. It motivated me, pushed me harder.
I pumped my legs and ran blindly down the street. I could feel Charlotte's nails digging into my back as she locked her arms around my neck. She was crying into my chest and becoming heavy quickly. My adrenaline helped keep me going, I didn't dare look back. I just kept running.