A Miracle From Hell

Chapter 9

I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.---Edgar Allen Poe

Even before he opened his eyes, he could feel the lights searing into his brain. Had it really been so long, had it really been that long since he last saw light? 

He had to open his eyes, he had to know where he was. But the light--it overwhelmed everything, his senses, even his racing brain. 

For the first time in his life, he couldn't think. All because of that damn light. 

He let out a shaky breath, trying to shield his eyes from the hot light. Panic welled up in his chest when he realized that his arms and hands wouldn't move. His breaths came faster, his mind still useless. He strained against whatever it was that held him in place, panting faster. 

And then suddenly the light, mercifully, shut off. All he could hear was his own ragged breathing echoing in the dark. Carefully he opened his eyes, wincing from the migraine those few minutes of light had given him.  

Sitting behind a camera, watching him intently with a smile on his face, was the man who had tormented Reid every day for the past year. 

"It's amazing isn't?" His voice was smooth, soft. "That something so benevolent, something that provides life to billions, can be so...merciless. Light is fascinating isn't it?" He paused obviously waiting for Reid to answer.

Reid just stared at a crack on the floor. He had gained enough clarity to realize he had been moved from his cramped cage, to a chair in the middle of a concrete room. He groaned, realizing, he could very well die here. 

The chair opposite him, shifted; he was clearly disappointed in the lack of participation. "Alright," He growled, his philosophical tone gone, "lets get a message to your team."

Reid's head shot up. He looked at him, eyes wide. He could get a message out, if he could think straight. His vision blurred and he strained to focus on the crack. Now was really not the time for him to dissociate. 

A hand slapped him hard, and he snapped back into reality. "Say one word, and I swear to god, I'll kill you right now." He reached back and turned the camera on. "Now, behave." 

Reid breathed deeply, he struggled to focus. His mind was trying to take him anywhere from here, and normally he embraced it. But right now, he needed to be here. He needed to let them know who his captor was. 

"Agents," his captor was in front of the camera, addressing the future audience. He protected his identity with a simple black hood. "Welcome to day three!" He walked back towards Reid. "I do hope you have gotten somewhere. To make this more fun, I'll put a spin on things. I feel like this isn't enough pressure for you, so not only am I taking a day off, but-" He landed a punch on Reid's stomach. Reid hunched over in pain, all thoughts of messages gone, self-preservation taken over. "I will not hesitate to take out my anger." He got up close to the camera. "Hurry agents." He chuckled before turning off the recording. 

Turning back to Reid, he lifted his head, "You ready for the worst two days of your life?" 

Reid honestly couldn't help it. This past year had been the "worst day of his life". A small smile appeared. Oh god, he thought, I'm loosing it. His ribs flared in pain as punches targeted his chest. He wiped the smile off his face. 

"Yeah, I didn't think it was funny." He turned and walked away. As the door clanged behind him, and Reid was bathed in the cooling and familiar darkness. Letting his head fall back on the back of the chair, he let his mind wander. 

He could see his whole life played before him, like a projection. His fourth birthday, the day his farther left, his high school graduation, college graduation, his first day in BAU, they all flickered through his mind. He strained in his seat, watching them all fade away. Almost imperceptibly he whispered, "no." 

His eyes shot open, and he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. His memories played themselves again in his head, and a frustrated sob escaped him. He felt vulnerable, broken. He didn't want to remember his life, people who were about to die, they experienced flashbacks of their life, not him. He had to think, he had to get out of this.  He hit his head on the back of the chair, eyes open but watching only the memories his mind replayed over and over again. 

"Stop it." he said weakly. He closed his eyes. "Stop it!" He screamed. 

Suddenly, he opened his eyes. What was he doing? He had to focus. He brought his throbbing head up, and breathed in deeply. 

He had 48 hours, he couldn't afford to slip into insanity. 

Over the course of a year he had come up with a solid profile; unfortunately for him, whenever he tried talking, all hell broke loose.  He shifted as best he could, let out a groan. His ribs were bruised or broken, again. 

He had obsessed over this profile, he had smoothed and polished every detail. It was his. Reid groaned again, he'd be the first to admit his coping methods were not at all healthy but given the circumstances....

He cut himself some slack. 

He licked his lips, suddenly desperate for water. He'd give himself a few hours before throwing instinct to the wind and yelling for water and food. He had gone a few days without food. He pushed away the statistics telling him how long he would survive without food and water, and countered it with the thought that he only had two days left anyway. 

Two days left. It's not that thought that scared him, it's the relief that flooded him. He was relieved. He wanted to die. He was so ready to just give up and that scared him.  

He couldn't, but god, he wanted to.