𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 [spencer reid]

28. psychopathy

[tw: drug use]

          𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐓. 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖. The temperature was the most concerning factor of the circumstances, for D.C. during the end of November was anything but warm.

The girl was racking her brain for any recollection of her whereabouts. No matter how deep she dug, her mind was empty – a black hole of nothingness. Not only was her head lifeless, but it was pounding like a poorly played drum. The pattern of uncomfortable thumps was enough to force her to pull her eyelids apart. Instead of light that she expected, she was met with darkness once again. But, this blackness was fabric-induced. She tried to raise her hands to remove the covering, but they were bound behind her. At the same time, she realized how weak she was, how flimsy her limbs felt as she comprehended her positioning – sitting up in a chair.

Francesca tried to swallow, but her throat was desert dry. She managed to run her tongue across her lips, an unpleasant feeling of cracked skin meeting it. Just as she tried to notice something else about her surroundings, Francesca heard the raising of a metal door followed by heavy footsteps. She froze, not that it took too much effort anyway, and listened as intently as her pulsating ear drums could manage. The stranger moved closer to her until she could feel their presence. They placed their hand on the back of her blindfold, ripping it off with no sympathy. Francesca's heavy eyes fluttered, straining to see who stood before her. Once she could, her sore throat prohibited her from forming words. The person simply smirked, an expression that used to be such a prevalent part of her life.

"Hi, Francesca. Did you forget about me?"

.・。.・

          "Francesca Griffin. FBI," Derek Morgan knocked hard on the door to Francesca's apartment, hand on his gun's holster. JJ and Spencer stood behind him, battle ready. When there wasn't an answer within a minute, Derek looked over his shoulder to be met with simultaneous nods from his colleagues. With all his might, he kicked the wooden door in and they all swarmed the room.

When they got inside, the house was barren. "There's no sign of a struggle," Derek observed, scanning the room. "Maybe she knew the unsub and let him in."

Nothing seemed out of place, except when JJ made her way to the kitchen. She circled the granite island, head tilting at a sole glass of wine that stood in front of her. "Or the unsub was inside before she got home from work last night," the blonde called, grabbing the attention of her friends. She pointed to the glass while Spencer and Derek met up with her. "Griff is not a day drinker."

"It's possible it was a blitz attack," Spencer walked back towards the door, positioning himself to the side of it. "If the unsub stood here when she walked in, he'd be completely out of her line of sight."