sociopath - spencer reid. ✔️

| 3

| SYMPATHY MEANS DEATH |

SPENCER GROANED, his eyes slowly peeling open. His swollen eyelids prevented him from seeing more than half of what he usually could, and the man craned his aching neck to look around the cold and dark room; there was a tiny window in the corner, letting a ironically blissful ray of sunlight through.

Nonetheless, fear shot through him, and the man began shuffling around, realizing he was bound to a chair; his feet and hands were tied tightly together. Spencer's teeth clattered from the chill, eyes darting around every corner in hope to find something that would aid his escape.

"Hey!!! Let me out of here!!!" Spencer yelled, his throat straining. He winced, feeling an intense headache pound through his skull. His stomach and face felt like they were on fire; probably as a result of that woman's ruthless beating.

Aeyla. That was her name. Spencer recalled her icy-blue eyes and her nervous act that fooled him and JJ.

JJ.

Spencer cursed aloud, praying to god that his teammate and team were still out there, alive and well. Because he wasn't. He was scared—having not been held hostage like this for years. 

And the last time this had happened, it took him a while to recover. And he still hasn't, to this day.

Suddenly the door opened, and Spencer's eyes widened with slight fear as a figure stepped inside. His jaw clenched when the man's face came to view; it was Jaxton Meyers, the leader of the MS-13 gang.

"Why am I here?" Spencer asked. "Where's JJ?"

The man coldly stared down at Spencer, a malicious smile making its way to his face. "You're one of us, now. Having an FBI agent join our crew isn't an everyday opportunity."

"Where is JJ?!" Spencer repeated, glaring daggers into him.

"Blondie? She's back with your team. It's just you."

"I don't believe you." Spencer spat.

"You don't have to. I don't really care..." Jaxton whistled nonchalantly.

"What's going to happen to me?" He asked with caution.

"You go through what everyone else has to, agent."

"Doctor."

"Doctor. You don't get special treatment because you're in the FBI." Jaxton said, cocking his head to the side.

"Didn't expect to." Spencer replied. "I don't want any part in this. Let me go and my team won't tear you guys apart."

"I don't believe that." The middle-aged man replied, shrugging.

"I know all about you, Jaxton Meyers." Spencer said, recalling the profile. "You were raised in an abusive household, where your mother beat you and ended up murdering your father in front of you; you were only six."

Jaxton stared at him, face emotionless and cold.

He continued speaking. "That image of your shot father reappears everywhere. That is exactly the reason why you choose to attack high-members of society, ones that represent both your father and mother; you're too cold to have a preference. Too much of a psychopath." Spencer said, his eye contact with the man unwavering.

The leader of the gang paused, only blankly staring at the young doctor, slightly smirking. "You've done your research, kid." Jaxton said, his relaxed side dominant. "Thanks for letting me know about my own life."

"You're welcome." Spencer shot back sarcastically.

"Now that we're done with that, you're going to start."