Battleground | Criminal Minds (gxg)

Chapter 3

Carli's POV

I crawl into bed around midnight. I haven't been up for long, but after the toll this week has taken on me, my bones ache with fatigue and a headache throbs behind my eyes. Of course, I wanted to go to bed an hour ago. I trudged up the stairs only to find the mattress bare. I swore, loudly, annoyed I had to walk back down the stairs that took all my willpower to climb. I moved the sheets to the dryer and sat on the floor across from it, my back against the wall and my eyes staring at the cyclone of bedsheets.

The moment the timer ran down I grabbed the warm linens and hauled them to the bedroom. I buried my face in them as I went. The scent of her skin has vanished from the fabric. Just like the rest of her.

It took me another thirty minutes to make the bed because I kept sitting on the mattress to do... nothing. I just sat there until a tiny voice in my head told me to get the hell up.

But now the bed is made and her side is empty and I want to scream and cry and chase her to New York. If she's even in New York. Maybe she was kidnapped. Maybe she didn't leave me, maybe someone broke into our apartment and took all her things and her, too. Maybe it's not that she doesn't want me, it's not that she doesn't love me. She just couldn't stay.

I roll over and bury my face in the pillow with a low groan. Annoyed at what I'm about to do. I sit up and find my phone on the nightstand. I flip open the screen and stare at the first number that pops up. The numbers curl into letters that spell out pain. I put the phone down. Then I pick it up again and hit the call button before I can stop myself.

My bitterness grows with each shrill ring. The voicemail answers and I immediately shut the phone as I hear the pre-recorded message. Her voice rips into me, the sound that can be so lovely and so heartbreaking and so deadly. The sound that can spill love or pain from the lips I would give anything to kiss one last time.

I call her a second time. Knowing she won't answer and wanting to be blessed by that sound. The message is short, brief, passive. The tone chimes and I realize I'm supposed to say something now. Anything. Why did you leave me or where are you or damnit Greenaway.

I take a moment to swallow my pride.

"Please stay safe." My voice comes out quiet and broken and full of emotions I can't quite keep trapped inside. "I love you, Elle."

I hang up before I say something worse. I love you. I need you. Please don't leave me here.

Tossing the phone onto the nightstand beside me, I reach up and shut off the lamp. I've traded my sweatpants for my typical pajama shorts and a bra, Elle's t-shirt now buried in the bottom drawer of my dresser with her key folded into the fabric.

Pulling the covers to my chin, I wrap my body in the sheets in a desperate attempt to simulate her arms around me. And, just as for the last few nights, I fall asleep to one thought and one thought only.

Elle.

***

A dull ache in my head tries to draw me away from my peaceful rest. I squeeze my eyes shut and my head shifts against stone. I take a painful breath and open my eyes to find an impenetrable darkness. My other senses tell me I'm sitting on a stone floor, leaning against a similar wall. The air is damp and my clothes stick to my skin from the moisture. An odor of rot and death attacks my nose and I lick my dry and cracked lips. I taste blood on my tongue as a hint of copper penetrates through the stench. I run one hand along the floor and realize my palm is warm and sticky. I wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness but the shadows only seem to grow thicker.

Alarmed, I lift my hands to my nose and recoil at the striking smell of death. I check my body for wounds as the blood drips down my palms and wrists. My eyebrows furrow in confusion when I discover no injuries.