Title: A Parasomniac's Guide to Sleepwalking
Summary: When Spencer Reid woke up in his bathroom shower, he was confused. When he woke up in his kitchen, he was concerned. But when he woke up on his terrace, he was annoyed. There was absolutely no denying it: Spencer Reid was sleepwalking. But with his team working a trying and exhausting serial murder case, with no leads to speak of, he decides not to burden them with the knowledge of his late-night escapades. So he takes matters into his own hands and tries to help himself without worrying others. It isn't until he wakes up one morning, covered in blood and accused of unspeakable crimes that he begins to think he may have underestimated his problem...
Rating: T; violence, language and dark themes.
Disclaimer:Criminal Minds and all its associated characters are property to CBS and no profit is being made from this story.
Prologue
'People who say life is a bed of roses usually complain about sleeping in thorns.' -Anonymous
xXx
Sleep.
It is an anomaly to some, a welcomed darkness to others, but a sanctuary to all. Whether someone turns to bed with anger in their blood, sorrow in their tears, or fear in their hearts, they are allowed a few precious hours in which none of it matters. None of the pain from reality can pervade their dreams and the softly whispered desires that voice themselves in the calm of sleep. A temple of safety and a monument to peace, sleep is when someone forgoes the stress and wear-and-tear of the world to submit to the only world that really matters- the world beyond our conscious reach.
But to a few troubled souls, the world is filled only with nightmares. Demons and specters lurking in the shadowy alcoves of the mind will make themselves known in the darkest hour of the personal world-turned-Hell. Half-assembled and crudely made monsters will creep upwards to walk behind closed eyelids, troubling the mind.
While most men, women, and children are aware of the creatures that haunt and plague them at nighttime, there is one man in particular who defies this norm. A man who is ignorant to the beast that breaks through at the sight of the moon and the submission to sleep; a man who knows not what he becomes at night.
A man who does not remember the monsters that lie in wait in his subconscious, because he is the monster.
And every night, this normally peaceful and innocent young man goes to bed, unawares that he becomes a beast who harms and murders young girls. And every morning, this normally kind and well-liked young man takes over once more, reading the incident of his crimes in the paper and never knowing he is the reason behind them.
Never knowing what he becomes when he slumbers.
Sleep.
It is an anomaly to some, a welcomed darkness to others, but a sanctuary to all...
Author's Note: The chapters will not be anywhere as short as this. I have a rule for myself that all chapters I write must hit at least six pages, prologues being the exception to this. As much as I wanted to make this longer, there was nothing I could add that wouldn't effect the time flow or style of it.
Review me your thoughts, opinions and suggestions, please.
Chapter One (Preview)
STEP ONE: IDENTIFY THE PROBLEM
She quickened her steps, trying not to seemed rushed as she swallowed what had surely been her heart, having leapt into her throat. Distracting herself from the sinking feeling in her gut and the hastening way her blood swam through her veins, she mapped out the directions to her house in her head. 'One left turn at the telephone pole, a right turn directly after the house with the cracked pavement...'
The directions stopped short there, the three or so more turns she had left to think of being lost from her thought as a hand clamped over her mouth, pulling her forcibly against the attacker's chest. Her cries were muffled against the hand as her arms flailed out before her, attempting to twist around so as to use her cane as a weapon. But the man kicked it away, using so much force that it fell from her grasp and clattered onto the sidewalk.
Her heart seemed to skip several beats before skyrocketing, beating fiercely in her veins as her entire body seemed to tremble and pulsate from the rush of blood. One hand reached to claw at the clothed arm of her assailant while the other flew to the hands over her mouth, long and orange polished nails digging into the skin and attempting to pry the long fingers loose. But as her legs kicked out frantically, flying backwards and pounding against shins, she felt something press into the base of her spine, her body instantly stilling.