(17) Another case about drugs (Part II)

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TW: reference to forced drug use


ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ



The rest of the day, you hide your face behind files. For once, Hotchner lets you be. He seems to be satisfied with what you got out of the witness and that you found the syringe. His reward is letting you stay at the precinct and work alone.

Whereas the others work the network of people around the victim, you keep digging into your female assassin theory. The CCTV does not give you much, only the main entrance to the restaurant and the back entrance to the adjacent kitchen have a camera filming the door. None inside.

You won't find her like this, you conclude and get up. You're dizzy and realize that you haven't eaten. You look at your watch, then you get out your phone to call Hotchner. Your eyes get blurry, and your cell slips from your fingers.

It clatters when it falls onto the table.

That's not the right noise for a phone on a wooden table. It's the sound of a metal feeding bowl on concrete. Your heartbeat picks up and you shake your head to get rid of the pictures flashing before your eyes.

"Not now." You hide your face from the bright overhead lights. The sound replays in your head. Trying to regain balance, you go to grab the edge of the table, which results in you wiping the papers off it. "Shit." You go to bow down and pick them up, but it only amplifies the vertigo.

"Em?" Spencer's voice startles you. "Are you okay?"

"No." You reply, sinking to the floor. "I think I'm going to pass out."

He rushes over. When he tries your arm to stabilize you, you lean away from him: "Don't."

"Em, it's me."

"I know." You lay down, head on the rough carpet of the office. "I know." You whisper. It's hard to speak and even more difficult to see. "I'm just so tired." You mumble.

"Please, I don't know what to do." Spencer sounds like he is about to cry. You just let out a hum. The carpet starts to feel cold and hard. You're hungry. But you're too exhausted to move. Maybe it would be the best to just keep lying on the floor, playing dead, until you actually are.

Spencer doesn't let you off that easy, though. "Are you crashing?" He asks.

Your eyes shoot open, and you turn your head to look at him: "I didn't take anything."

"Then what's going on?"

"This happens sometimes." You roll onto your back. Your brain is clouded. "It's surprising you didn't see this happen to me before...With all the time you spend around me being fucked up and pathetic."

He inhales sharply at your degrading words.

"Don't say that."

"Why? It's true." You chuckle bitterly. "Anyways." You add after a pause. "I sometimes get very tired very suddenly."

"The others are coming." Spencer informs you, stressed out.

You groan and push yourself into a sitting position. Luckily, you threw the files onto the ground. Without saying anything, Spencer helps you spread them around you to make it look like you were working on the floor to have a better overview.

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