Battlecry | Criminal Minds (gxg)

Chapter 25

~Present Day, June, 2010~

Carli's POV

The world comes back to me like sand trickling through an hourglass. A speck at a time, one sense awakening after the other. Excruciatingly slow.

The pain is first. All of it, drop after drop—my knees from his kicks, thighs from his blades, hips from his grip, too tight, too painful. My ribs, fully exposed by my torn shirt, bruised and cracked and likely broken in several places. My arms, held above my head, my wrists, cut and bleeding from the handcuffs. My lungs, struggling to take in air through my sore throat, crushed from his hands around it. My lips are cracked and split, blood trickling from the corner of my mouth that matches the streaks flowing from my nose. I can feel the bruises, the cuts from those brass knuckles, that gold ring—diamonds can cut through anything, they say. Human flesh is no exception. When I try to open my eyes, I discover the left one is nearly swollen shut. I force it open, hissing at the pain.

I wish I could say I've never felt anything like it, but I have. Crushed beneath a building intent on collapsing, terrified of dying alone. But this time, I'm not alone.

Murphy is huddled over the table, legs bent up on a stool and a laptop in front of him. I can't see the screen from this angle, but the green-blue artificial light gives Sam's face an eerie glow. He's splattered in blood. My blood.

He hasn't even started with the knives yet.

I don't know when I passed out, or if the beating continued even after I did. I have no idea how long I've been here, how much time has passed since I watched Elle disappear back into the safety of the BAU.

Safe. I hope she's safe. It'll all be okay if she makes it out of this.

I repeat it to myself, over and over and over again.

She's safe. She's safe. She's safe.

"What are you saying?"

I pick my head up (with a great deal of effort) and find Murphy glaring at me. I hadn't even realized I was speaking out loud. I don't give him the privilege of an answer.

"I asked," he snarls, getting to his feet, "what are you saying?"

I smile, knowing my teeth are rimmed with blood. "Come closer and find out."

He looks at me for a second, contemplating. With a slow glance towards the table beside him, he picks up a blade—six inches, curved at the tip, tactical knife—and starts towards me.

I couldn't hurt him if I tried. I try to stand on my feet instead of dragging them against the floor, but all I manage to do is slump on my toes, the effort stealing the air from my lungs. His expression turns to cruel amusement as I struggle to meet his eyes.

"It's a shame," he hums, the tip of his blade tracing my collarbone. "A woman of your strength, diminished to begs and bargains."

"There is nothing I would beg you for," I hiss, wincing at the pressure of the knife.

"That's not true, Carli." The tip pierces my skin with the sting of a needle. "You would beg for her life, wouldn't you?"

"She's safe."

"Is she?"

The blade pushes farther, but my mind is too far gone to notice, too focused on those two words. She's safe, she's safe, she has to be safe, has to be—

"I've had no need to harm her," Sam says as he pulls the knife away. "I have what I want. As long as you cooperate, there is no need for mindless bloodshed."