The Past 2/2
Part 2 to The Past mini story I wrote earlier :)
Kirnapping, sexual and physical abuse, crude language, violence.
Your head feels like it’s so much heavier than it should be, and you try to open your eyes. You try and recollect what had happened. How you were in the position you are.
You remember seeing him. He broke into your apartment, and he had kidnapped you.
You look around at your surroundings and yourself. You were still in the T-shirt you fell asleep in, and your hands were bound behind you, zipties from the feel of it. Your body was tied to the corner of what seemed like a dingy old basement.
You hear the door open and He came down them, stepping very loudly, making sure knew of his presence. You stare at him with disgust. He stops at the bottom of the steps, looking directly at you.
“What. The. Fuck. Do you want?” You spit, venom dripping from every word. He stays silent and begins slowly walking towards you. Your body instinctively starts to move back as he approaches, “I told you to leave me alone, Alexie.” You hiss, not breaking eye contact with the man you once feared.
Three years ago, when you left him in the middle of the night, you had just left a note. A note telling him that you never wanted to see him nor speak with him, ever again. Why would you. He beat you, and groped you. He set out rules, and kept you locked in your bedroom if he was upset. You walked around eggshells with him, and the moment you met Spencer, you remembered, that’s not how you’re supposed to treat someone you love- that’s not how you treat anyone.
Alexie keeps walking towards you. He bends down and gets on one knee before you. Looking intently in your eyes, he strokes your cheek, “You’ve forgotten everything I’ve taught you, haven’t you?” He whispers. Before you can react, he uses the hand on your cheek and pulls it back, slapping you hard. You fall to the side, and a rush of memories flood your brain, as well as tears in your eyes. “You ungrateful little bitch.”
You shuffle back to sit up, only to have him grab a handful of hair, and pick you up, causing a burning in your scalp. You cry out, “Alexie, please,” You try and stand on your feet to ease the pain, but he kicks you in the shin, causing your legs to give out.
Pulling your face in close, he growls, “You’re all mine. I’ll fix you back up. Don’t worry, y/n.” He smashes his dirty lips to yours before throwing you back down.
You hit the floor hard, crying out. Curling up in a ball, you bite your bottom lip, trying not to cry. But, it’s all too much. The memories. The pain. The fact that, you were in fact all his.
Spencer sat in his chair in the Bearau, a small blanket over his shoulders, and his eyes glazed over. The once scortching hot cup of coffee, still full, but now completely cold, and untouched, sitting in his hands.
“Spencer?” He heard JJ call for him. He didn’t look up until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, whipping his head up.
“Sorry,” she apologized, “we, um- we got back the lab results for the blood on wall.” She spoke softly, kneeling before him, “It wasn’t y/n’s.”
He releases a small breath of relief. He hadn’t spoke a word in hours. When he got to your apartment, he called Hotch barely getting enough words out to make sense. Hotch and Morgan both came to your apartment within a few moments of the frantic call. They saw the mess of the apartment as well as the mess your boyfriend was. Kneeling and crying into a sweater of yours.
Seeing the scene, they called the CSI team and they bagged and tagged anything they could find for DNA.
Deciding that the apartment wasn’t the best place to be, Hotch called in the rest of the team and that’s where they were all now. In the office, trying to peice together why someone would break into your apartment at 3 in the morning to take you.
“Spencer,” Garcia tries for the hundredth time, “please, we need anything you can tell us. You knew her. She must’ve said something.”
“Play the call again.” He repeats, just wanting to hear his girls voice. The team looks at one another, unsure if it’s a good idea. When Rossi nods to them in assurance, Penelope pulls up the file, and plays it back.
“Hello?” You hear your voice answer her call.
“Spencer, please, help.” Her voice squeaked in desperation.
“Y/n?” You had asked her, “What’s wrong?”
“Spencer,” You hear sniffle, the thought of her crying making your stomach turn, “there’s... there’s someone here.”
Your girlfriend had frequent nightmares, “Baby, it was probably just a nightmare, I’m su-“ that’s all it was. A bad dream. It had to be.
“No, no it’s not. He’s here. I can see him. He’s looking for something, I’m hiding.” Your heart drops.
You throw your duvet off yourself. Getting out of bed, you throw on a shirt and sweats, “Y/n, stay exactly where you are.” You grab your keys. “I’m coming, just...” Leaving your apartment, you quickly run down the steps to your car, “just, stay hidden.”
“Please,” you hear her sob desperately,“please, hurry. And please, don’t hang up on me.”
You shove your keys into the ignition and rush towards your girlfriends home. Thoughts running a million a minute, you remember running a red light. Your phone was still up to your ear, and for a minute you hear her just breathing into the phone.
You think, maybe the intruder will leave. Maybe he was just a robber and he got what he wanted. Maybe she’ll be fine.
But you were proved wrong the moment you heard the blood curdling scream from your girls mouth. The scream that made your eyes widen, and your other hand tighten so hard around the steering wheel that your knuckles whitened.
A tear rolled down your cheek as you stepped harder on the gas. You can hear her. Y/n is struggling against this man, while you speed to her house.
The call ends. You’re forced back to the present. You’re breathing is shaky. You’d been crying, as you did every time you listened to the recording. All of the teams sympathetic eyes are on you.
Emily comes in front of you. She kneels down and puts one hand softly on your knee. “Spencer,” she speaks softly, “did y/n ever mention anyone in her life who would want to hurt her?”
You blink hard, and shake your head while rubbing your eyes.
“Think, Pretty Boy.” Morgan pushes, also coming into view. “She’s the type of person who would’ve shared this stuff with you. She trusts you.”
You think hard, racking your brain for previous conversations.
“She...” you start talking slowly, “She, um, once told me about this ex of hers.” Penelope readies her fingers on her keyboard, “They had dated in college, and the way she spoke about him,” you shifted in your seat, feeling uneasy, “she talked about him like he’s hurt her before.”
The teams eyes light up with the new information.
“Did she ever say his name?” Morgan sits down next to you, happy to be finally getting information.
“She once mentioned him as an Alex.” You recall.
Penelope starts clacking away at her keys. “There are... over a hundred Alex’s in all of Penn State.”
“Did they date her first year there, or...?” JJ asks, looking over Garcia’s shoulder.
“Um,” you think back, “I think she was a sophomore, but he was older than her. She said they had watched a movie once,” you finally look up at your team, “21 Jump Street. She had liked it. He didn’t.”
“That’s a 2012 movie.” Penelope keeps typing away, “Okay. So, searching for... Alex, from Pennsylvania State University, who was attending in the year 2012.” She waits for something on her screen for a moment, “We’re down to 36.”
“Check for any with petty offences, maybe, peeping Tom, or theft.” Hotch speaks up.
“He had a dog.” You remember, “Y/n once said he had a dog, but she hated the way he treated it.”
Penelope grins ear-to-ear, “Yes! Okay, we’ve got an Alexie Mason.” she reads off her laptop, “Graduated PennState In 2013. Had a pet dog, that died in an accident, may God rest his soul.” A scowl forms on her face, as she peers at the next bit, “And, would you look at that, he was with y/n for an ER visit.” Her eyes fly across the screen, processing information, “A broken rib. That son of a-”
“You don’t think-” you start, “he wouldn’t have. How could anyone hurt her?” You shrug the shawl off your shoulders.
“We got him, Kid.” Morgan puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “We’ll find her too.”
“She’s strong,” JJ nods, “I’m sure she’s fine.”
But, something was still bothering you. Something was eating away at you. It was probably just a feeling, but it was a damn strong one.
“Derek, when you get your hands on him,” Penelope starts ranting, “don’t you dare spare him. That asshole hurt the only innocent woman in this entire office. And, who knows how long he’s been stalking her. Oh, my poor child, she’s far too frail. He’s already broken her rib once, who knows what else-” you start to zone her out.
You slowly turn your head around, and look at your girlfriends desk. “Penelope,” you grab her attention. When she looks up to you, you put a finger to lips, shushing her.
A very offended Garcia stares at you, mouth agape, as you get up and walk towards y/n’s desk. You grab the large bear off the floor and plop it onto her desk. Staring at it for a bit, you zone out your co-workers whispers and look the bear dead in the eyes.
“Garcia, come here.” You don’t take your eyes of the stuffed toy. She gets up after getting a shrug from Morgan, and stands next to you. You open a drawer, knowing where y/n keeps all her things, and take out a pair of tweezers.
Taking the steel pliers to the bears face, you twist and tug at its’ beady eyes. Plopping them both down in Garcia’s hand, she gasps.
Morgan clears his throat to grab our attention, and Garcia runs to her laptop, “Boy Genius, you just saved the girl.”
“Just for the record,” Emily pipes in, “we’re still clueless.”
Garcia turns her laptop around to show the group, and their eyes widen. The bears eyes which you had removed were tiny cameras. Whoever had given y/n that gift, had been watching her. Watching all of you.
“I can trace this back to where the feedback is being sent,” Garcia turns her screen back around, “we’ll know exactly where they are.”
For the first time in hours, you had felt a weight being slightly lifted on your shoulders.
You say in the corner of the basement, your knees brought up to your chest. Hugging your bare and bruised legs, you chant to yourself, “They’ll come for you. They’re looking for you. He loves you.”
The door to the basement creaks open, and quickly scurry into the position Alexie had trained you to be in for him. Kneeling, with your head down. Only to speak when spoken to. He never, ever, untied your hands.
You couldn’t tell time in the hell you were in. It felt like days, maybe even weeks had passed. And, in all that time, Alexie had groomed you right back into the scared little girl you tried so hard to run away from.
He got to the bottom of the stairs and smiles as he sees you obeying him. Approaching you, he pets the top of your head and strokes your hair. “How did my Sweet sleep?”
“Well, thank you.” You spoke, very rehearsed, very quiet.
He cocks his head to the side, confused, “Sweet, look up at me.” You oblige. “I said, look up.” Your heart begins racing, as you feel his hand grow heavy in your head. “I said,” he growls, yanking your face up by your chin, “look up, Bitch.”
Instantly you start to shake, trying to verbally defend yourself, “Please, Alexie, it was nothing. I promise.” You plead. You had cried earlier and your eyes were bloodshot red. He hated when you cried.
“I do so much for you,” He growls, lifting you by your jaw, “and, you... you’re just an ungrateful whore.” You’re sobbing, begging him, knowing exactly what the outcome will be.
He throws you down, and kicks you in the stomach, causing you to yelp and curl into a ball. With your hands already tied behind you, he has nothing to hold down as he pushes you down onto your back, and pulls your legs towards him.
Ignoring your screaming, and crying, he smirks, sitting on top of you.
You felt dirty. You felt forgotten. But worst of all, you felt as if even Spencer could love you no longer.
You layed in the corner of the room, your eyes too dehydrated to form tears. Your mouth was dry from begging him again and again. Pleading with him that you were sorry. Sorry that you cried. There was a pain between your legs, but that was obvious, because you could feel the dried blood on your thighs from just a few moments ago and also the blood from yesterday, when the same incident occurred. You could feel his semen on your thighs. You could feel more bruises being born on your neck from when he choked you to keep you quiet. You could feel everything physically. It was mentally and emotionally that you were long gone.
You stared at the empty wall infornt of you, not a thought in your mind and not a chant on your lip.
Any little bit of hope you had, was all gone.
Maybe you had fallen asleep. That had to be it. Because you were awakened by a slamming of a door. Afraid it was the basement door, you quickly sit up, ready to be positioned. You look up, but don’t see your door open. Instead, you hear voices from upstairs. Which was odd, because Alexie lived alone. You hear shouting, and then one person running, and then a rush of people behind.
While you’re still processing all of this, Alexie rips open the basement door, a butcher knife gleaming in his hand. He points it towards you, walking down the stairs, “YOU! YOU DID THIS! YOU CALLED THEM!”
You cower back into the wall behind you, “No, no, no, Alexie, I didn’t,” you choke your words, scared out of your mind, “I was here with you the whole time, I didn’t. Oh god, I swear, Alexie, I didn’t do anything.” You plead, crying as he approaches you.
You don’t see the people in FBI vests get to the top of the stairs. All you see is Alexie and his angry eyes. He pushes you down and sits on your thighs.
“Alexie Mason! Put the knife down, and stand up.” You hear a man shout loudly. You’re so busy crying to Alexie, you don’t realize it’s Hotch. You don’t realize that JJ and Emily have their guns trained on him also. You don’t realize that Morgan holding back Reid so he doesn’t rush and tackle your ex.
“You’re my perfect little girl now,” Alexie coos, brushing the tip of the knife on your tear stained cheeks. “This might hurt now, but we’ll be happy after, I promise. I love you.” You shake your head, sobbing, your useless hands bound behind you.
He raises the knife into the air and plunges it into your chest. Everything slows down for you. You feel him pull the knife out. You hear someone scream and one more person shout. You hear a loud bang of a bullet leaving it’s chamber. Alexie falls off of you, and to the side, and the knife falls to the floor. Your head falls to the side, and your eyes are tired. So, so tired. You’re breathing is wheezy, and your boyfriend runs and falls next to you. He pulls you onto his lap.
Your ears are ringing, so you can’t hear anything he’s saying. You can barely lip read I’m sorry, don’t close your eyes and you’re going to be okay.
“Spence,” you say, your lips barely moving, “tell me you love me.”
“Y/n, we’re getting you out of here. You’re going to be f-”
“Please. I can’t have him be the last to say he loves me.” You beg, you’re eyes barely staying open.
Your boyfriends tears fall on your face before he buries his face in your neck, “I love you. I love you, I love you.” He cries, “I love you, y/n.”
You nod slowly, with a small smile, “I... I love you too.” You breath out, before you can’t keep your eyes open any longer. Your head falls heavy into his chest, and he quickly jerks his head up.
“Hotch!” He calls out, “Where’s that Medic?!” He holds his girlfriends body in his arms, hugging it close. Still repeating his love to her, still apologizing to her.
You swallow hard, your mouth still dry. Shifting, you feel yourself in a bed. Under blankets.
Maybe Alexie was just a big nightmare.
You open your eyes, and are greeted by a dimly lit room. A hospital room. You try and sit up, but quickly wince, feeling a sharp pain- well, everywhere.
You didn’t notice Spencer’s head on the side of your bed, near your hand, so he alertly awoke, confused for a moment. He sees you, awake, and throws a soft arm around your shoulders, and places kiss on your forehead.
“Thank goodness you’re awake,” He whispered, “they were scared we were too late.” He helps you sit up, and props pillows behind you.
“How long was I out for?” You ask, opening your mouth for another spoonful of jell-o that your boyfriend insisted on feeding you.
“Two days,” JJ answered, smiling at the sight of Ried feeding you, “You kept getting cold, so we just piled blankents on you.”
You motion to Spencer you’re full, but he opens a third cup anyways, “How long was I taken for?” You ask looking at JJ and Emily.
“I’m sorry.” Spencer whispered an apology to you for the twentieth time. He fully and completely believes that your kidnapping was his fault.
Every bruise, and cut on you. Everytime the doctor says you were raped, or starved, or beat. Everytime you wake up crying from a nightmare.
He blames himself for every single bit of it.
You put your hand on his cheek, “It’s not your fault, Baby, please.”
He turns slightly and kisses your hand, “I love you. Please, don’t forget that.”
“I won’t. I love you, too.” You whisper back, kissing him on his forehead as he comes in close to feed you again.
