ROSEMARY - spencer reid

E L E V E N

CHAPTER 11: THE SECOND POLAROID

Rosemary Cooper's POV

[October 4th, 2009]

I dizzily blink myself awake, jerking with a start when I realize that I am tied tightly to a chair. As I look around to figure out where I am, I see that I am back in the cabin, secured to one of the kitchen chairs.

"Now you're not goin' nowhere," Ramón says gruffly from behind me, kicking the leg of the chair before circling around to my front side. "That was some stunt you pulled, kid. Probably wouldda gotten away with it if I didn't wake up needing to take a piss."

"You can't blame me for trying." I whisper weakly with a sad smile, tears welling up in my eyes.

I wiggle around a little bit and look at my hands, discovering that they are tied to the arms of the chair. My ankles are tied to the front two legs of the chair, and more rope is wound around my torso, restraining me against the back of the chair.

"You're tied pretty good, aren't ya?" Sanchez mulls, admiring his handiwork.

I ignore him, looking away and clenching my jaw. My cheek throbs from when he punched me after taking a picture the other afternoon when I was tied on the couch. I'm sure that it is bruised.

"W-" I start, not sure if I wanted to know the answer. "Why did you take a picture of me on that first day?"

"Ah, thank you for reminding me!" He cheers, the gleeful tone completely out of character for him. "I almost forgot."

"What is the matter with yo-" he cuts me off with a sharp backhanded slap, making me gasp in pain.

I look up in shock, but he has turned his back, walking into the other room and returning with the camera.

"You'll learn to talk to me with respect one of these days." He says, and hot tears pool  in my eyes, threatening to fall onto my cheeks.

"You don't deserve anybody's respect!" I shriek angrily. "You're a low-life, worthless, sloppy, obsessive, incompeten-"

My rant turns into a scream of fear as he raises his boot, sharply kicking me in the stomach and sending the chair toppling backwards into the floor. A loud gasp for breath escapes my lips followed shortly by a fit of coughs. A cloud of dust erupts from the floor after the impact, the tiny particles dancing in the flickering light that pours from the cobweb-covered chandelier. I struggle to draw air into my lungs, the force having taken the breath out of me.

"Oh, you'll learn," he repeats, grabbing the chair and propping it back up onto its legs. "Now look at the camera and smile!"

I refuse to look at the lens, my lips tightening against each other as I try not to cry. He snaps the photo despite the fact that I didn't look, pulling it out and shaking it the same as before. He smiles a grimy smile and pats my cheek roughly before sauntering down the hallway. After maybe three minutes, he returns, wearing the backpack that I had tried to take with me.

"Where are you going?" I ask, but he ignores me entirely.

"You be good," he instructs and looks at the clock, which reads 2:53 a.m. "I've got a little delivery to make."

He waves the photograph of me in the air tauntingly before walking out the door. I hear the lock click behind him, and I take a deep breath, closing my eyes and allowing the tears to fall down my cheeks now that I am alone.

I didn't want him to have the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

꧁꧁꧂꧂
The Next Morning

The team is yet again circled around the table under unfortunate circumstances. A blown-up copy of the new Polaroid picture is taped to the very same board that Rosemary couldn't even bring herself to look at.

And now she's on it.

Spencer seems to be the most affected by this fact, biting his tongue as he gazes at the image that Derek found this morning on the windshield of his car when he came outside to drive to work.

The first Polaroid is taped to the left of it, but the new one is different. In the first one, she wears a solid expression, refusing to show emotion or look at the camera as she is being photographed. In the second one, she again doesn't look at the camera as an act of defiance against Sanchez's wishes, but her eyes have tears in them, her lips surely quivering from holding back her cries while the photo was taken.

She's breaking and the entire team can see that.

Garcia bursts into the room as the rest of the team talks about the photo.

"I've finally found the address of Sanchez's parents, but there's a slight problem..." She announces.

"What is it, Penelope?" Derek asks her, shifting in his chair.

"They moved back to good ol' Mexico in 1998," she states. "I was able to contact them via email and they said that they were willing to answer any questions that we have. We're going to have to go to them because Señor Sanchez is in no condition to travel. His wife is taking care of him, but she doesn't expect for him to last to the end of the month."

"Have you contacted the airfield to let them know we need a plane?" Hotch asks, standing up.

"Yes, sir," she nods. "They said that wheels can be up in forty-five minutes."

"Perfect," Hotch says, standing up. "Rossi, Prentiss, and Morgan: you're with me. Reid, JJ, and Garcia: you stay here and work the case. If you have any new developments, I'm just a phone call away."

Everyone nods and bustles off to their designated areas, ready to bring Rosemary back to them.