Warning: Character death…
I have rediscovered the joys of Evanescence, and especially the song My Immortal.
So this is a song fic of sorts.
I'm going back to my roots, the depressy story…so if suicide makes you uncomfortable, please don't read.
Please, read and comment. I want to know what you think of this.
Thank you for your time.
Reid stares at his hands.
They tremble slightly as he places the envelopes on the mantel
Three.
He's so heavy, it hurts to breathe; each beat of the heart feels as though a hole is gaping wider within him.
Reid is tired, present tense.
Reid was tired, past tense.
Reid had been tired, future perfect tense.
There will be no future.
He fingers his revolver, heavy in his grip; metal cool against his flaming skin.
There is no future.
It's all too much.
The nightmares hold him a lover's embrace, never letting go. All the thoughts pressing against the back of his eyes that keep him awake at night, linger in the daylight.
There is no sleep anymore.
There are the cravings that burrow deep under his skin like termites gnawing contentedly at his heart until there is nothing left of him. For him.
Cravings for Dilaudid…cravings for food, water, the staples of life which are easy enough to fill, but Reid forgets sometimes… Well, all the time now. He can't stomach it.
He's withering away.
Cravings for touch, simple skin on skin. For contact to know that he's still here, he has something to hold on to.
Morgan.
Love…he can't—
Reid is tired. Bone weary and world dragging tired.
He's had enough.
Tonight he will do what most people don't have the mind to do.
Reid is tired.
A shaky hand lifts the Revolver, as he opens his mouth to receive it.
His gift. His way out.
The bitter tang of metal and gun powder fills his mouth, his nose, his eyes.
He won't be a "pretty boy" any more, now will he?
Suppressed by all my childish fears…
These wounds won't seem to heal,
This pain is just too real,
There's just too much
That time can not erase…
He squeezes his eyes shut, a single tear lingers on his cheek as his fingers contract.
Reid's not tired anymore.
/
The silence is deafening as you walk from room to room.
"Reid?" You call, but the only thing greeting you is stillness.
This isn't right. Your stomach knots in fear.
You quicken your pace, your voice desperate as you cal out for him again.
"Reid? Reid?"
You found him.
"Awe, no. No, No, No!" You sob out.
"Come on, man. NO!"
His gun dangles from his clenched hand; his eyes milky white, his mouth filled with black.
NO.
White noise fills your head as you run to his side, gripping his lifeless body to you.
Your voice is stuck as you feel his body, cool and limp as you grip his neck you can feel the blood drip drip drip from the window blown wide in Pretty Boy's head.
This is only supposed to happen at a crime scene. Not to you… not to him.
Reid.
The room spins as everything fades to black.
I will hopefully be done with this soon. This story has been bugging me for a week…
Anyone else angry at CBS for trying to ship Reid…I won't say anything else except…
Grrr… Morgan Reid FOREVER!
Once again, thank you for your time…seriously, I like hearing what you guys think.