Catch-22| Spencer Reid

twenty-six

"Please. Explain it to me," Grey prompts again, giving a confident smirk.

She knew damn well that he had no reason to have that photo in his wallet. The only explanation was the true one. He had stolen it from Hazel's house after he killed her.

Lawrence swallows, looking slightly defeated. There wasn't anything he could say to pull the target off of his back.

"What's wrong with keeping a photo in my wallet?" he asks, trying to pretend that he still had the upper hand.

Grey almost seems happy that he challenged her yet again. "That's a wonderful question. For starters, there's only two prints of that photo, and one of them is in my house. When I got to the crime scene, Hazel's copy was gone."

She stares at him, leaving enough silence to prompt a reply.

When he doesn't respond, she continues. "Now, while I'm unsure why you needed this photo, I know that you stole it. You want to know how else I know?"

She grabs the photo, flipping it over. On the back, there's writing in black sharpie. It reads, "New roommates, Bowdoin College '94"

"That's Hazel's handwriting," Grey says, "Her copy."

Lawrence chooses to ignore the facts, asking, "Why did you make yourself so obvious, Annie?"

"...the hell do you mean?" she questions back. Grey finally sits down, staring down the man in front of her.

"You could've changed your name. Changed how you look. I mean, you could've left the country," he says, "But, you just moved away, and kept it at that. Why?"

She's quiet for a moment, simply giving a smirk, confirming she had a response ready. Eventually, she stands up, leaning across the table. "Because I'm not a pussy. I was raised by a pathetic son of a fuck who beat the shit out of me. I grew up being taught that it was good to be a meek and scared woman."

She continues, bursting with rage. "But I'm not a scared little kid anymore, Lawrence. I knew that this day would come. I hoped you'd give me the opportunity to kill you, but the world isn't fair, now, is it?"

He gives her an odd look, but doesn't respond to what she had said. Instead, he asks, "When did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That you would leave."

Grey is a little hesitant to answer, but finally sits down, choosing to give an honest reply. "You wouldn't even remember it," she dryly chuckles, making eye contact with him.

He shrugs, then gives a look that seems to say 'Try me.'

She clenches then unclenches her jaw. "I was 15. I was in college, and I got really close with a girl in my psych class. It had been a few weeks since you went on a rampage, so I thought it could be safe. I told you that I had considered asking her to go out for lunch. You screamed at me, then you slapped me. You said that I was your property, and that you wouldn't take ownership of a..." Grey then shakes her head, mumbling, "I'm not going to say it."

She digresses, "Think harder and maybe you'll remember what else you did."

He makes an expression that makes her know he remembers.

"That's when I knew I'd have to get away," Grey affirms. "That's when I figured out that men like you never change. Men like you are spoiled little pricks who were taught that women are objects."

She continues, getting progressively more angry. "I am not a fucking object. I am not your property. I am not your Annie, and I'm sure as hell not your daughter. I'm Anne- motherfucking- Grey."