ROSEMARY - spencer reid

N I N E

a/n: I have decided to cast Danny Trejo (pictured above) as Ramón Sanchez. He's a pretty gnarly dude, so I thought it would be fitting. 😈👍🏼🔫

CHAPTER 9: THE KNIFE

Rosemary Cooper's POV

[October 3rd, 2009]

I attempt to steady my breathing. My body aches and my mouth is dry. My stomach grumbles and I feel another wave of lightheadedness overtake my senses. I let out a small groan and try to roll over, only to remember that I am still tied to the couch.

I've been tied up here since yesterday, and I am in extreme need of using the toilet. At this point I would just go, but I don't know how much longer I'll be on this couch and I don't want to sit in my own waste.

"S-sir?" I call out hesitantly, knowing that he'll be able to hear me from the other room. "I need the bathroom. It's urgent."

After a few moments, I hear the floorboards creak as he stands up. His footsteps travel through the hallway and into the dated living room where I am tied to the wooden arms of the couch.

"Not so strong now, are we?" He asks me with a laugh, and I just ignore him.

"Please," I sigh, shifting uncomfortably. "I need to go really badly."

He grunts and unties the ropes, pulling me up off of the couch cushion. I fall into the floor, my legs weakened from not using them for so long.

"Get up!" He demands harshly, and I get up, allowing him to lead me to the bathroom. "And no funny business."

With that, he slams the door shut and takes a few steps down the hallway, allowing me a bit of privacy. I dive onto the toilet, relieving myself and looking around the room in the process. I try to see if there's anything that I can use as a weapon, but all I see is a wooden-handled plunger off to the side.

I keep this in mind as I wipe and flush the toilet. If I snapped the plunger in half, it would produce a splintered and somewhat sharp point that I could use to attack Sanchez. If I can't think of anything better, I could use that once I have my strength up. It would be useless to attack him in the state that I am in; I need to get something to eat and drink.

I wash my hands in the sink, looking up at my reflection. I wash the dried blood from under my nose and prod at the tender area on my forehead from being scratched by some tree bark when we were trekking through the woods.

I take a deep breath and open the door, deciding that I would try to cooperate with Ramón so that I could maybe get some food out of him.

"Excuse me?" I call out to him, making him turn to face me. "Can I please have something to eat and drink? I'm very hungry and thirsty."

He thinks about it for a small while before throwing his head to the side and shrugging his shoulders. I quickly follow him to the kitchen, looking around at all of the doors and windows. The windows are boarded up from the outside, which indicates to me that this home has been foreclosed upon or just abandoned. The door is locked, but there aren't any chains or boards over it, so I know that I could probably get out from there.

I sit down on a dusty barstool and Ramón keeps a close eye on me as he grabs some food and a bottle of water. He tosses the bottle at me, laughing meanly when it hits me. I retrieve it from the floor and he slams an apple onto the counter in front of me.

"Eat." He says roughly, going into the living room and plopping into the recliner, turning on a radio.

I quickly eat the apple, the fruit doing very little to help my appetite.

After I had finished the apple all the way to the core, I speak up. "Can I please have a little bit more?"

He grumbles, not wanting to give me what I want but also not wanting me to starve to death. He storms back into the kitchen, grabbing a sandwich out of the fridge and tossing it at me.

"Anything else, Princess?" He sneers, and I avert my gaze, shaking my head and clutching tightly to my food when I notice the gun tucked into his belt.

"No, thank you." I murmur.

He leaves again, sitting back down in the same chair. I devour the sandwich, finally satiating my appetite. I drink some more water, not knowing when the next time I'll take a sip will be. Thinking quickly, I tip-toe across the kitchen towards the knife block, grabbing a rusty steak knife. I wrap the blade in a paper towel so it wouldn't cut me and put the knife into the back of my knee-length sock.

Ramón looks up just as I had finished adjusting it to be less visible.

"You done?" He asks me gruffly, and I nod.

He stands up and approaches me, grabbing my elbow and tugging me back to the couch, re-tying the ropes around my wrists and retreating back down the hallway. I take a deep breath and decide to rest until nightfall.

The moment he falls asleep, I will be free.