A Miracle From Hell

Chapter 13

Anyone can give up; it is the easiest thing in the world to do. But to hold it together when everyone would expect you to fall apart, now that is true strength.---Chris Bradford.

Can pain be so intense that one becomes numb to it?

Can someone become immune to pain if they experience it enough in their lifetime? 

Reid let out a shallow breath, his vision flickering in out of focus. He lifted his head up, groaning. "Not good." He didn't even realize he was speaking aloud. "Not...good." 

Lewis was watching him, a slight smile on his face. "Hello Dr. Reid. Nice of you to finally wake up. This is a momentous day, for the both of us." He opened his knife and Reid was too dazed to even react to the blade. He watched curiously as Lewis cut his bindings. "Come on, you're not dying sitting down." He tipped the chair forward and Reid fell forward like a rag doll. 

He frowned and kicked him in the ribs. "Come on, stand up." 

Reid curled in on himself. His arms and legs were cramping, he couldn't move them, much less stand on them. He let out a sharp gasp as the blood rushed back into his arms and legs. God, why did that have to be so painful? 

Lewis aimed another kick at him. When he made no effort to stand, he sighed and dragged him half-way across the room. "You're heavier than you look." He grunted. He grabbed Reid's wrists and chained them together. "Alright, up we go." He pulled and Reid was dragged up into the air. 

He grabbed a chair and sat down in front of him. "You have only 24 hours left, you have any special requests? Any favors?"  He looked into Reid's glazed eyes and laughed. "Lets get started." 

He could see his team, all standing in front of him. All looking through him. An overwhelming sense of anger swept through him, he was right there, why couldn't they see him? He walked towards Hotch, panicking when he realized he couldn't speak to him. Hotch! He yelled at him but nothing came out. 

He sat down on a chair, so tired. He wanted to talk with his team again, wanted things to be normal again. He wanted to...sleep. 

Somewhere inside of him, alarms went off and his head shot up. Sleep wasn't a good idea. Not right now, he had to do...something. 

Something....what did he have to do? 

Reid's eyes snapped open and he looked at Lewis pleadingly. "Please." He whispered. 

Lewis twisted his lips around. "Nah." He had a dripping hose in one hand and his knife in the other. He aimed the nozzle at Reid and turned the water on. "I'm having too much fun." The water hit Reid like a slap and he gasped. It was so cold, so very cold. 

"Listen, this is the most fun I've had, and I plan on making it very, very enjoyable." He placed his knife at Reid's throat. "Maybe I'll slice your throat." He mused. "Or," he moved the knife down, placing the tip above his heart. "Maybe I'll carve your heart out." He leaned in closer, grabbing Reid's face forcing him to look into his eyes. "The thing with knives is, they're not like guns. Guns are, impersonal, cold. Knives." He smiled. "Knives have a flair for the dramatic." He stayed there for a second longer before pushing Reid's head back. 

"Can we all be honest for a second here?" He held the knife up, admiring the glint of light of the blade. "I've always thought you were a knife person." 

He squinted at Reid, smiling at him. "Let's find out." He slid his knife up the middle of Reid's chest, a thin line of red following the blade. "You know, there are roughly 300 million capillaries in the human body, Dr. Reid, and I know how to make you bleed from every last one." He placed the knife under Reid's eye and cut, slowly, painfully slow. 

Reid's eyes rolled back and his head jerked back. 

There they were again. His team. They were, fainter somehow, their bodies more wisps than solids. He was loosing them. No, no, no, I need you he thought and tried to force himself forward. He couldn't move, he was anchored in place. 

He felt exhausted again. Everything in him screamed to give in to the exhaustion, that it was fine to let go. 

He couldn't, he couldn't, he couldn't....

But he was so tired. 

Water splashed over him again, and his chains rattled as he struggled to orient himself. His chest and face burned from the cuts and bruises, and he felt weak from blood loss. His stomach churned with nausea and he shuddered as he threw up. 

"And he's back. You only have ten hours doctor." 

Ten hours? That long?  He groaned, letting his head drop. "Please," he slurred. "Please." 

"Please," Lewis mocked. He patted him on the head. "If you want me to kill you now, I'm not giving you the satisfaction of an early death. We play by my rules. My rules." He flipped his knife around, tapping his chin with it. "Enough with the whole slicing thing, I'm bored." He jabbed his knife into Reid's shoulder, watching him writhe in pain. 

Reid gasped for air. Lewis's face flickered in and out of focus and he struggled to keep himself conscious. He felt his stomach twist, he was close to death. Whatever happened next, he would hold on. Giving Lewis the satisfaction of his death was something he would not do. 

A flicker of movement caught his eye and he tried to focus. Had his mind just created the movement or? His heart beat faster. He knew he had started hallucinating a while ago; was this one of his hallucinations? He closed his eyes, frustrated, convinced he had dreamed up his own rescue. 

Lewis had yanked the knife out and was preparing to stab the other shoulder. 

"Darren Lewis!" Hotch's voice echoed through the building. "This the FBI!"