Hello everyone! This is my first Spencer Reid fanfic, but it's about time 'cause I love Criminal Minds! There will be major whumpage in later chapters and this is a darkfic. Readers, BEWARE.
"Please, don't do this…" the man pleaded. He was tall and thin, a skinny man with very little muscle. That's the way the unsub liked his victims….helpless. He watched the younger man squirm in his shackles as he lay in the middle of the huge bed. He could see tears in his victim's eyes as he approached him with a knife in hand. The younger man let out soft sobs and gasps as his captor walked slowly past the bed, running his hands up from his thigh across the length of his body.
"Mmmm…" the man hummed, "I think I am going to enjoy this…" and with that, he plunged the blade deep into his victim.
Some miles away, Dr. Spencer Reid awoke from a nightmare. His body was soaked with sweat and he was gasping to catch his breath. He looked around the darkness of his bedroom, attempting to regain a grip on reality. Reid sat up in his bed, and rested his back against the headboard. He brought his knees up to his chest and pulled them close to his body.
The dream was the same every night, and it always felt just as real as the day it really happened. He was always back in that cabin with Tobias Hankel. Every night since the event, he has had to relive the hours of fear, torture, and drugging that Hankel and his multiple identities put him through. Reid let his fingers trace soft designs on his right arm where the syringe full of dilaudid was injected into him. He felt a chill run through him.
For a moment he considered calling someone, but then he realized that it wasn't even morning yet. Also he wasn't really sure who he would call anyway. Or, what he would say…. Uh, sorry to wake you, but I've been having bad dreams. Think you can help? Yeah, he couldn't imagine that conversation going well.
Reid stood up from his tangled sheets and walked over to the window of his apartment. The street outside was mostly empty. There were a few parked cars and one or two early risers, walking their dogs in the dark hours of the morning.
Suddenly, something caught Reid's eye. A man, standing on the opposite street, directly across from his apartment. He wasn't moving; he just stood there, staring. Reid couldn't see clearly in the dim orange light of the street lamps, but it looked as if the man was staring at him. He felt his heart skip a beat, and then move twice as fast. Reid quickly tried to combat the rear running through him as he stared at this stranger.
There's no reason to be afraid, Reid. Calm down. It's just a man. He is just standing there. Nothing to be afraid of. And yet, as Reid's conscious mind ran through calming thoughts, his subconscious mind was busy taking notes and details. 4:30am. 4629 Crescent Road. Tall, approximately 6 feet. Dark, short hair. Some kind of black, button up coat, hands in pockets. Frightening…
Reid became suddenly aware of his partial nudity and felt a wave of embarrassment for standing at his window in his underwear, in full view of this creepy man. He was about to close the curtains, when the man began to walk across the street….towards him.
A second wave of fear coursed through him as he watched the man approach his apartment building. He felt the urge to scream, to run, to hide, anything that would get him out of there, and yet, all he could do was watch, frozen with fear as the man got closer. When he reached the door, he was blocked from Reid's view due to the angle.
A moment of silent waiting filled him with terror-filled suspense. Then he heard the buzzer. He let it ring once…. Twice….. Three times….. Four times…. Finally Reid, who could no longer stand it, raced to the speaker box and hastily pressed the talk button.
"H-hello?" he released, and waited. The man on the other end apparently pressed the talk button to respond, because there was another buzz, followed by the sound of someone breathing. He didn't say anything, only breathed into the speaker box.
With every inhale and exhale, Reid felt his skin crawl. Then it stopped. Reid pressed the talk button again. "Whoever this is, please stop or I'm going to call the police." His heart was racing as he waited for a reply. Then…buzz! The breathing started again. Reid steeled himself suddenly, and interrupted the man.
"Look, whoever you are, I'm an agent of the FBI and I believe you are trespassing. I think you should leave." He waited. With every pound of his heart, it seemed like an hour passed. The he answered. The voice playing through the speaker box sounded confident, although the tone of voice was younger, mid-twenties maybe, clear, as though he was a singer and never smoked a day in his life, but all of this, seemed to make the voice a thousand times more terrifying as he whispered into the speaker,
Then the breathing continued, this time heavy, as though he were panting. Reid felt as though he were having a heart attack. This man knew his name. His breathing began to quicken with fear as he listened to the horrible panting coming from the little box on the wall.
There was no way this could be happening to him again. It was statistically impossible. He was supposed to be able to just live out the rest of his life, trying to forget the first trauma, not be standing in his apartment, frantically avoiding a second trauma from occurring. Finally the breathing stopped.
Reid's hands were sweaty and trembling, but he managed to raise one finger to press the speaker button.
"Wh-what do you want fr-from me?" The words that seemed so clear in his mind, stumbled out of his mouth and betrayed his fear. The man chuckled back at him through the speaker.
"You'll find out soon enough, Spencer Reid." Then there was silence.