Beep beep beep! The bed squeaks as he reaches across my shoulder to slam the snooze. A gruff groan slips in between Reid's muffled cuss words.

A wry smile graces my lips then disappears.

Cussing was an absolute favorite choice when I dealt with the sickest of the demented perps. Sons of bitches they were. But now, the language is almost as foreign as Chinese in my word bank. And to think, it was only five months ago when I would brazenly spit out those words.

He clears his throat, obediently, I roll over to face him. My eyes are glued to the sheets, he is the last person I want interaction with today - every day. The hollowness in my eyes is somewhat deceitful. I am not there yet, but every day I step closer to submitting to his hellish ways. I almost flinch when his hand brushes my jaw. As soon as his eyes leave my sight, I force them shut, suppressing a whimper as his nose ruffles my matted curls.

Worry flashes across my face. 'Please no.

His torn knuckles graze my nape so gently like he is afraid of hurting me. I feel his eyes on me as he toys with the shorter strands of my hair. Finally, he speaks. "I'm sorry about yesterday, it's just–" Reid huffs as he collects his thoughts "–when you don't listen to me, you make me so angry. If you would just follow my rules, I wouldn't be upset." A disappointed sigh groans from his lips.

I would have enjoyed back talking, but I rethink that my face probably could not bear the burden of another one of his punishments. Instead, I nod as my gaze remains stoic. His 'apologies' are as crappy as his cooking. Sucking on my chapped lips, my tongue runs over the pasty grooves.

"I'm sorry I make you so upset," my automated response eases out in the grumpy Siri voice, but it remains as loud as I can manage.

"It's okay. Things will be better, you'll learn. It's just taking me a little longer to get through your thick skull than the others. What do you think will make you listen better? Hmm? What do I have to do?" His mood is eerily even. He never changes his monotonous tone. The challenge was void of voice swings and pitchy squeals.

Anxiety consumes me, and I cannot help but let him see that I am sweating. "I-I don't know. I'm sorry, I'm trying, please don't hurt me." My sore, raspy voice irritates my throat as I implore. I watch his hands that are more than able to shut me up. Reaching over he grasps my shoulder as he rolls me to face his eyes. Biting back a flinch, I relax and allow his fingers smooth over the swelling on my cheek.

"Hey, hey. What did I say about crying?"

I do not notice I am until he demands my compliance. "I'm sorry." I hate that he does not let me feel, that he thinks that what he does is okay by any standards. I survey the room after ripping my eyes away from my only solace in the area, the sun shining in the window.

My fishing expedition proves useful. It rewards me when I spy a vase on the wooden kitchen table. I explore this option. If I must and I am left with no other options, I will use that. That is...if it is even glass at all. Plastic simply will not do. It won't deliver a strong enough blow to even phase him. My abs jump when Reid slips his hand under my shirt. Oh God! No, please no! My breath hitches, as it begins to evolve into hyperventilation.

He slides up so he is sitting on my waist. Reid smirks and looks down eagerly to undo the to button on his jeans.

Now! I rear my fist and strike. My knuckles smash into the side of his face, he recoils and his face freezes with shock.

"Why you little tramp!" he snarls, nursing his cheek.

I take this opportunity to launch his body off of mine. Effectively shoving him to the floor, I spring up like a rabbit and land on the floor. Swinging my leg back, I kick somewhat blindly, not caring where I hit. I miss his sensitive area, but my kick clips his rib cage, not hard enough, though.

"Ugh!" He reels, clutching his torso.

I rip the heels right off my feet, ditching the vase, too scared to think as I mad dash to the door. My palm darts to the handle and twists, but it will not open. I yank on the door. "Help me! Somebody!"

"Get back here, you're mine!" Reid growls like I have never heard before, but my yelling does not stop.

Ignoring him, I continue frantically pulling the door handle. I cradle my other wrist by my stomach since it would do more harm than good to try and use it. With all my strength, I yank hard. To my surprise, sunshine, she's here but can I cannot take a break. However, as soon as I open the door, he is back on for round two, ready for another square-off.

Not risking him attacking me, I turn to bolt out the door and into the woods. My hope is that I will lose him in the forest.

My bare feet dig into the twigs as I canter through the brush. Every so often, my head whips back to see his progress. He is on my tail, following my trail like a trained bloodhound. I have only been running for seconds, but my heart is pounding so hard that it feels like it is going to shatter. I gasp for breath, trying to remember the techniques I was taught at the academy for chasing down suspects. Except this time, I am the one being chased.

"Help!" My scratchy voice croaks into the knotholes of the trees. My face whips the leaves. "Please, help me." I know full well that calling is endangering my position. But, I also know that the old Mia would be furious if I allowed the chance to slip past.

My legs strain and groan as they pull on the tendons, weakened over time. Silently, I whisper a prayer that they will carry me further. The itching pain on my soles whine for a reprieve - a relief I cannot afford.

Throbbing waves of nausea threaten to rip the carpet out from under me, the dizzy sensation makes my brain tumble. Sweat rolls down my face as generously as ice cream dribble on a hot summer day. The pounding in my chest is relentless as I struggle to ward off the ache. My stick thin, bony fingers grasp onto the branches when my legs finally decide to give way. I keep my right wrist glued to my stomach as my other palm pats along the haggard bark.

The blood licking my shoulder blades chafe his t-shirt. I do not have time to be disgusted or repulsed. And though my mind hates me for admitting, I am actually thankful for that bastard's 'kindness'.

The stinging in my ribs brings me to my knees, and my face twists with anguish and fear. Tears brim in my lashes. My panting mocks that of a greyhound who has had the sprint of his life. It is so heavy that the big bad wolf and I would be fierce competitors for top dog. A groan passes through my throat as I try to stand. A string of mental cuss words following my ascent and subsequent step forward pales in comparison to the actual brokenness of my spirit and bones.

I just want one of the two options: rescue and recovery or a quick and 'painless' death - and I want it now.

Crack! Someone is near. Déjà vu. Now or nothing. Reid will find me sooner or later. Ironically, it's the sooner that is better.

Though I do not look forward to the knuckles that will make my face want to explode or the jabs of the pointy furniture edges impaling my torso, it is better, far better, than relaxing in bed with his hairy arm curled around my waist like we are some lovers snoozing after a pleasurable evening.

If there is one thing I am guaranteed, it is not having that beast torture me that way.

"Help!" My scratchy voice croaks to the trees. "Please, help me."

"Hello?" someone calls back.

I flinch with the realization that someone can help me. "Help me!" The timbre in my voice is quickly dying, my adrenaline is wearing thin. "Please!"

"Where are you?" the stranger asks.

"Help!" I press my back against a tree and slide down.

"Just keep calling."

"Please, help me! He's coming!" My eyes close in relief and exhaustion as I sit. The low thuds pound on the dirt as I wait.

"Oh my god!" A man kneels, assessing my current state. "Can you hear me, ma'am?"

I cannot manage an oral response, so my good hand shifts to skim his fingers. The pulsing through my brain roars. It hurts like hell. My skin is wet with perspiration, and it makes the pale polo stick like flies to my back.

Reid is coming, my light headed brain warns.

"Ma'am, did you hear me?"

"What?" I ask.

"I asked talons hooves bin ear." My eyes squint, perplexed. The guy is talking nonsense. I want to shake my head, but even that will deplete the energy I have. I close my eyes. I am so tired.

"Hey, hey!"

My shoulder shakes and my head rocks with it.

"Stay with me! Stay with me!" he says.

"He's coming," I tell him.

"What?"

"He's coming," I repeat, my voice so soft and small.

"Who? Who's after you?"

"Help." I cannot help that my mind is drifting in and out of awareness. The swords clash over and over for the state of my mind. "Please."

"Wait, who after you?"

"Elliot!" I want Elliot. I want his warm embrace, his comforting voice with me.

"Is Elliot after you?"

"El!" Tears blur my vision as I struggle to stay awake.

"Wait! I don't under-"

"Please, help me." My head keeps throbbing and I can feel my thoughts slipping.

"I'm going to pick you up, okay?"

I almost jump when the back of my knees settle into the crook of his arm - he didn't even wait.

"I'm going to take you back to my jeep, you gotta tell me your name."

"Martin." I find my voice slurring a reply automatically. I feel like I am drunk and on a hangover at the same time, it is literally mind blowing. Pulses of pain pound and pound.

"No, I meant what's your first name?"

"He's coming!" I cry again.

"The guy, Elliot?"

My head shoots up, nearly slapping the underside of his chin. "El! Elliot! Where's Elliot?" The mushy part of my brain believes he is here.

"No, no, he's not here."

"Please help me! Don't leave me."

"I'm not leaving you. What's your first name?"

My lashes close, concealing my brown eyes.

"Hey, hey! I need you to stay awake!"

I groan as he pats my thigh. My head lolls on his chest.

"What's your name?"

"Mia." With the last strength I can muster, I answer and fall into unconsciousness.