a/n: this chapter has content that may be triggering. I will use this ✖  to signal when a triggering part is starting. when you see the ✖ again, that means the triggering part has ended. avoid reading those parts if you're sensitive to discussions of abuse, rape, self-harm, suicide, and mental illness. if you can't read that section and you want the gist, just comment or pm me and I'll be happy to explain. stay safe

shit is really going to go down this chapter. I'm sorry it's so long, but I felt it needed to be. enjoy as much as you can...

*

"Beth, I didn't do this!"

The room was silent. Suddenly the door squeaked open and a man I recognized as David Rossi swept inside. He removed my handcuffs and tossed them to the officer that had brought me in. He took the seat opposite me, the chair scraping against the concrete floor. He plopped a thick stack of files onto the table. Were those files on me or the victims? It didn't matter, I told myself. Stay calm.

I looked up at him and made direct eye contact. "Y'know, this isn't how I imagined my first time in handcuffs." When I was nervous, I got snarky. It was how my mother dealt with nerves too. My mom. Was she okay?

Rossi smirked, "First?"

"Okay, third," I amended, rolling my eyes, "but it doesn't roll off the tongue as well." Don't be too nonchalant, Em, and they'll actually think you're the killer.

"Does your boyfriend know about these other times?" Rossi asked as casually as he could. Well, two could play at that game. I just wasn't sure if the other person was me.

I bit my lip. "Don't have a boyfriend, not officially." Technically, Spencer and I were just...fuck, what was the right term? Love interests? Perhaps. I hadn't really thought about it.

Rossi didn't seem to want to drop the matter. "And why is that?"

"We just met in person like...forty-eight hours ago," I laughed. "I try not to move too fast."

"He says you mentioned hating your sister?"

Tattletale. "My sister abandoned my mother and forced me to pick up her slack. So yeah, I'm bitter, but I could never really hate her. She's my sister. Besides, I'd never take out my feelings for her on another person. Ben is a decent guy." Decent wasn't the word I'd normally use, but whatever. My stomach was churning as my gaze shifted to the files. What was inside?

"Spencer says there's a lot of stuff you haven't told him." Fuck. Did that mean Spencer knew about...Rossi's tone was becoming increasingly confident. I was giving him what he wanted. I didn't know what to say. "Yo, assbag, I didn't kill anyone" didn't feel appropriate.

I clenched my jaw. "There are some things better explained in person." Please just be talking about the parking ticket I never paid or the time I accidentally stole a pair of sunglasses or when I kidnapped a dog that was being abused...don't be talking about the thing. Anything but the thing!

"Like your stay in a mental institution?" Rossi's voice echoed throughout the room. Fuck me. Did Spencer know? If so, how much? Tears blurred my vision. My body quaked with suppressed sobs. My life was very quickly crumbling, turning from debris to dust in a matter of hours.

"Did he read my file?" My voice cracked. Rossi nodded, his expression somber. "I wanted to tell him in person. I..." This wasn't fair. I was a decent person. How could the universe do this to me?

✖

Rossi remarked, sounding somewhat genuinely impressed, "You starved yourself for an incredible amount of time." My eyes fluttered shut and memories overwhelmed me. Skin clinging to my bones, limbs too weak to move, my hair falling out. I could recall with vivid detail the days when I was always freezing, oh God, I could never get warm.

"You don't understand." No one could ever understand. All the doctors, every therapist, none of them understood. I was a textbook case in their eyes. Open and shut. Except I wasn't. I really wasn't.

"What's there to not understand?" prompted Rossi, clearly trying to get a reaction out of me. "You were a teenage girl with body issues. Except you weren't trying to diet, were you?" I froze. How did he know? Well, he was a profiler and a damn good one at that. The entire team was highly skilled. It was no wonder they'd figured it out.

There was a moment of silence before I spoke. "I never told anyone."

"Were you going to tell Spencer?"

"I don't know." I was suddenly freezing again. My teeth chattered. "A part of me thought that if I didn't talk about it, maybe it would just be a bad nightmare." Nightmare. My entire life was a fucking nightmare.

"Emma-" he started, but I couldn't stay quiet anymore. The words escaped from me after years of being locked away in the back of my mind. I'd tried to ignore it, to just forget. But demons can't be forgotten. They lie in wait until the day comes when you're at your weakest and you can't fight against them anymore. Demons are persistent motherfuckers that never leave you. They won't leave until they consume you and everything you are. Unless you make them leave. Unless you take a stand and accept them and accept yourself.

My demons had been gnawing at me for over a decade. Today was the final battle and I was going to win.

"My uncle sexually assaulted me when I was a toddler."

Silence. I was openly sobbing.

"My mom's brother," I explained quietly. "They would drop us off with him when they went on trips or dates. He didn't like Beth like he liked me. Beth would sleep in the guest room, but I would share his bed with him."

I shuddered. I could still feel his coarse hands running over my skin and gripping me too tight. I could remember the taste of copper from biting down on my lip. That was the rule. No screaming. Screaming meant the pain would get worse. I couldn't handle worse.

"We would play these...games. Special games that couldn't be played with Beth or anyone else. Special games that required being naked."

The stench of alcohol. That's how he justified himself. He was intoxicated. He couldn't help himself.

"I don't like it, it hurts." Quiet whimpers, rustling sheets.

"Shhhh, it won't hurt in a minute. This is the best part of the game."

"Can we please stop? It hurts so bad!"

"Shut. Up."

Rossi's voice snapped me back to reality. "I'm assuming this is the same uncle that was arrested for distribution of child pornography when you were in middle school?" I nodded stiffly. I remembered the day vividly. My mom picking up the phone and immediately hanging up. She threw up in the sink and cried for hours.

"It wasn't in the official report, but the pictures he was selling were of me." My tone was so...distant. I sounded casual about my uncle selling naked pics of little baby me. Tears still slipped down my cheeks. And I was shivering.

I was so cold.

"He told me I was perfect. I was thirteen when he went to jail, and I was broken. I hated myself. I wanted to die. I didn't want to be my uncle's idea of perfect. I would look at myself in the mirror and feel disgusted."

Rossi looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. "So you starved yourself."

My hands were shaking. "I developed anorexia, yes. I ate small amounts to placate my mom's nagging and to prolong my suffering. My mom found me in my room one morning. I was so weak, I couldn't leave my bed. She dragged me to the doctor, who said I was malnourished. He recommended a local mental institution, and that's where I ended up."

It took three years from them to notice anything was wrong. My plan had been to graduate, move out, and then set myself on fire. I hated myself so deeply. I wanted my death to be as painful as possible.

I wanted to burn.

"You were there for sixteen months," Rossi stated, checking the file. I tilted my head as if the memories were weighing down one side of my brain. Thin sheets, bad food, broken air conditioning. I grimaced and tried to think about the good things. I tried to think about Grace and the taste of her eucalyptus chapstick the night we first kissed. I focused on her laugh, her toothy smile, anything but her broken sobs, her screams, her fists landing-

"My parents wanted to be sure."

"Just let me die, please. Please, God, if you exist, just let me die."

Choked sobs. Fingernails scraping the mattress. Blood.

"You've been taking medication ever since," Rossi noted, scanning my file once again. I took a deep breath. I looked anywhere but him. My skin was crawling. I'd buried this for so long. To finally talk about it, acknowledge it...the process was painful and awkward.

And yet so freeing.

✖

"Look, you understand why I didn't tell Spencer all this over the internet? I wanted it to be a face-to-face conversation," I said softly, rubbing my wrist. I was exhausted. I just wanted to get back to the hospital and wait for Mom to get out of surgery. How long had I been here?

Rossi eyed me suspiciously. "Emma, do you know why you're here?" The question caught me off guard. Why the fuck would he be asking me that? I thought about it and realized I didn't have an answer. Why was I here? And not in handcuffs?

"The last two victims have had strong connections to me," I replied, but it ended up sounding more like a question. Yes, my mom and Ben were apparently the latest victims, but the unsub had never gone after a guy before. The unsub's victims were strictly females. And if I wanted to kill my mom, why didn't I do it months ago? The latest victim that actually died worked at a restaurant I frequented, but I hadn't gone there in months...this was not adding up in the least.

"Yes...and no," he sighed. I furrowed my brow. Okay, so I was right. Something was wrong here. He continued, "Tell me why you think you're here." I pursed my lips. Alright, this was getting interesting.

I quirked an eyebrow. "And what exactly makes you think I know?"

His answer was quick. "The books on profiling at your house." I turned bright red. I'd forgotten about those. Spencer must have had seen them yesterday. Well, this was embarrassing.

"Honestly?" I chuckled, trying to remain impassive. "I bought those books when Spencer told me about his job. I'd always thought the field was fascinating, but when I realized I was sort of dating a profiler, I thought it might come in handy to learn a few things. And if you were wondering, I have read your books."

"And?" he prompted, seeming actually curious as to what I thought. I guess if I was romantically involved with a member of his team then he was going to get to know me sooner or later. Unless they found me guilty and I got hauled off to jail, which felt very unlikely at this point.

I shrugged. "They weren't bad. You paint a nice picture, but you're no JK Rowling. You also come off as sort of an ass. No offense."

"None taken," he shot back dryly. "So tell me why you think you're here." I had to stop and think. This interrogation had shown me that I was never actually a suspect. So why handcuff me and drag me in here?

"Well, you've referred to the unsub as a 'he' in interviews, which means you think he's a man. That rules me out," I started, tapping my nails on the metal table. "And you guys didn't show up until the unsub left a message at the crime scene. He wanted your attention. He's narcissistic." It hit me like a tidal wave. "You arrested me to draw the killer out!"

Rossi beamed at me like a proud parent. "Not bad, kid. You missed one thing. Ben was the unsub's first male victim."

"So the attack was either unrelated or the unsub is spiraling," I concluded. I was honestly quite pleased with myself. I felt like Nancy Drew or the Scooby Gang, putting together pieces of a puzzle until it formed a picture.

"You're wrong on both accounts," he said. A pout weighed down the corners of my lips. Well shit. "Ben's attack was related and there's currently no evidence to suggest the unsub is not spiraling."

"I don't understand," I complained, crinkling my nose. I hated not understanding things.

"The unsub's m.o includes causing the victim emotional strife before killing them," Rossi explained patiently. "Our theory is that the unsub meant to kill your mother, but Ben interrupted and therefore the killer could not complete his mission.

I nodded slowly. "Okay, so the killer saw Ben as an alpha male and-wait. Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Please let me be wrong, please let me be wrong, please let me be wrong...

His gaze flicked down to the files. "We've already ruled you out as a suspect. You're a potential victim."

"Well fuck me sideways with a chainsaw."

*

a/n: don't worry y'all i hate me too