SILVER SPOON. spencer reid

26

"i won't ever let you go."
;

  THE MAN continued gut punching Hazel for the next hour, and eventually she lost all feeling in her body. She struggled to even stay awake, and the man saw that. He grabbed something from a shelf in the corner of the room, and Hazel's eyes shot open seeing the syringe and bottle of liquid in his hands. She desperately shook her head, muffling protests through the sock.

Eventually the needle was inside her arm, and Hazel felt a shock of adrenaline go through her. She felt alarmingly awake again, and more aware of the screaming pain on her body and face where the man abused her. The woman sobbed uncontrollably, wishing to die.

"I think I'm going to keep you." He muttered, peering through his glasses.

"We're supposed to be delivering her tomorrow morning though." The man in the ski mask said. He had been quiet this entire time, only silently watching as his "buddy" finding joy in hitting her.

Hazel looked at the masked man, her eyes pleading for help. They were stone cold, void of any emotion—a true psychopath. Both of them were, in fact. Hazel knew the scientific definition and tells of psychopaths because of Spencer. The mere thought of the man now slightly lifted her up. If she ever got out of this alive, Hazel swore to herself she wouldn't waste anymore time. She was willing to follow Spencer Reid wherever he went until the man finally loved her back.

"Cancel it." He said, hands roaming over her body. Hazel lurched over, her gag reflexes kicking in. "This is too fun to give up."

Hazel's face contorted in disgust, and she began thrashing around in the air once again. The man slapped her in the face, grabbed the hem of her shirt and ripping the fabric, leaving her entire chest completely exposed. Hazel desperately tried to dodge his hands, tears spilling out of her cheeks as she screamed through the sock that was stuffed inside her mouth.

She hated this. She hated this more than anything else. Hazel wanted to die already, rather than being touched by those dirty hands.

He ran his hands over the bruises on her stomach and chest, hand retreated to his jacket. The man pulled out a knife, only making Hazel's shrieks even louder. He grabbed her arm, digging the sharp point into her bicep. The contact broke the skin, blood seeping through the cut as Hazel felt the unbearable sting in her arm. She swung her body up to kick at him again, but this time the man caught her legs, forcing them back down. She cried so hard, uselessly begging for this to end.

The knife cut all the way down to her elbow, and the blood dripped down her arm and onto the ground, a plopping noise emitting with every drop of the crimson. Hazel concentrated on that instead, forcing herself into that corner of her mind away from reality.

"I'm going to draw something beautiful, so you'll be reminded of this forever. Every time you look inside the mirror, you'll see me." He said, sadistically laughing as the knife travelled every which way in her arm, the shape of the drawing taking form.

She eventually stopped reacting, standing completely still as the man continued carving into her arm. Hazel let her mind drift deeper into her disassociation, trying not to pay attention to the burning pain from the cuts. It hurt so bad, so bad that Hazel felt her entire body violently quiver involuntarily.

Eventually, her vision got hazy and her head incredibly light. She felt an almost euphoric wave wash over her, before everything went black.