Up in Flames | Spencer Reid x Reader |

Chapter 13

Chapter 13: What's Your Emergency?

Your head.

It throbbed profusely as if your skull was slowly fragmenting and lodging into your brain.

Your limbs.

They were rigid as if ropes swathed around every inch of your limbs.

Your breath.

Well, did it even exist?

You were lugged out of unconsciousness when you felt your body jolt up and collide into one surface only to return harshly into the second. When you pried your eyes open, you found it arduous to tell whether you were blind or not. After blinking a few times, you were able to conclude that you were in pitch-black darkness. There was an earthy, damp-wood scent that surrounded you. It was the tranquil aroma that danced in the air after a fresh rainfall. Despite that, you managed to whiff out a different scent - one that was deeply embedded in the premise.

A rich chypre fragrance.

And just like a storm against a dam, the floodgates of your vilest memories was destroyed leaving nothing but dust and debris. Sights, smells and touches that you buried in the darkest corner of your head were now resurrected. You could no longer pretend that the scenes enveloping your mind were foregin. And scenes - these horrid scenes - sent tormenting chills to plague your body.

You were encountering the greatest nightmare any victim of abductions could have.

And after six years? Why after so long?

The adrenaline pulsing through your veins would soon, you imagined, become toxic. The sheer terror you endured made you hyperventilate to the point that claustrophobia and asphyxiation became an eligible Grim Reaper. Surrendering to your primal instinct, you thrashed about, attempting to free yourself from both your physical and mental immobility. But that came with no success. You tried to scream for help but the guttural sounds that escaped you gave you no progress. Eventually, you came to understand that you were impulsive and rash. No component of your critical thinking was critical or even rational for a matter of fact.

So you took a deep breath in.

And stopped.

'You've been here before. You've done this before. It'll be fine. It's just a do-over,' you reassured yourself.

And once again, you took a deep breath in.

'Here's what I know,' you thought. 'I can feel that my legs and hands are tied. Not by rope, thank the Lord. Something plastic - hopefully something easily breakable.'

So you gave that a shot. Accumulating all your strength, you focused on the bondage at your wrists. You growled and gritted your teeth, praying that you would be able to exert enough force to snap the plastic. But, with your arms behind your back, it felt both discomforting and impossible to break free. You attempted the same technique with the bondages at your ankles but, yet again, you were disappointed. The spacing of the trunk left you barely enough room to spread the focal points.

You really needed your hands.

If you were just able to break them free, you'd be able to do the rest without much challenge.

You scooched your knees to your chest and curve your spine, trying to slide your wrists under your arse and over to the front. There were two main complications as a result of that. First, your belt buckle kept snagging at the plastic. You thought of using that to your advantage but you kept getting your wrists stuck on the leather. Second, your arms were just not long enough to do such contortions. You reached and stretched but nothing worked in your favour.