The first teaser for the continuation of "In a Hopeless Place" I decided to start a new story because 41 chapters is insane lol. So if you are reading this please go and read "In a Hopeless Place" first otherwise you'll be really lost since this is a continuation of that story.

Hope you all enjoy the first teaser, hopefully I will have less shorty chapters in this one so we don't end up with 41 chapters again XD. Much love to you all, tell me whatcha think :D

-CM-

"Don't talk back to me you little faggot!" he's drunk again, not that it ever mattered… being drunk made it a little easier to run away from him, this wasn't one of those times.

A young boy hits his head hard on the linoleum floor of a small kitchen; his mother is standing at the sink doing dishes gripping a steak knife in the scalping water in her fist, with tears in her eyes as she listens to her sons pleading cries for help. Her husband is sitting on his chest hitting him in the face.

"Momma please!" He cries, the father looks up at her. She has her back turned to the scene and he leaves the boy behind to grope her and try and lift her skirt.

"Hank please." She squeaks only to be grabbed by the hair and thrown to the floor next to her son, who stares at her with blackened eyes and a bleeding lip.

"You want some?" Hank yells at her, she holds her arm up in front of her face shaking her head.

"Rather I'd take it out on the boy?" he says with a drunken smirk, she briefly looks over at her son whose expression is cold, eyes like dark amber that bore into her very heart. She gives the slightest of nods and breaks into tears. Her son barely hangs his head as his father laughs at his power over the broken family. As Hank stumbles towards the boy he quickly dodges his father's grasp and races for the front door but is pulled back by his shirt collar.

"Now we're gonna have an understanding boy." His father sneers turning his battered son of only nine years old to face his trembling mother.

"Come on Ellen… me and you are going for a ride." She stares into her son's eyes with fear and guilt painted on her face, but he is unmoved by her tears and looks away as he is shoved to the floor and forgotten while Hank takes Ellen by the arm and drags her to her feet.

"Stay outta trouble while we're gone boy or you'll be in for it." His son meets his father's gaze with hooded blackened eyes.

"Sir." He says through chapped and bloodied lips, the old man snorts as he and Ellen leave slamming the door behind them; the house smells of cigar smoke and burning toast.

"George!" his mother yells back to him as he opens the curtain to look out at them.

"George I'm sorry." She cries as her husband pushes her into the car and peels out of the driveway, George raises his head slightly as he watches the car disappear in the night and he smirks a bloody smile to himself knowing tonight will be the last time he ever sees his parents again.

-CM-

The sound of water sputtering out of a rusted faucet echoes throughout the old building, a scratched and filthy mirror hangs above it… it's an abandoned orphanage… blood drips and circles like red smoke into the rusted basin.

George breathed a shallow breath as he stared at himself through cracks in the mirror, shattered like his spirit had been… he was washing the blood from his knife and his gloves, the sky was a pale grey and he knew it wouldn't be long before all of Boston would be alerted to the foul deed he had committed in the early hours of the morning.

That made twenty two kills now, twenty four if he counted tampering with his parents car all those years ago which caused them to crash… though it was easy to blame his father for that, everyone in their small town had known he was a violent drunk and they all assumed that is how Hank and Ellen met their end. George growled at the thought of his mother, that last look on her face and those last words she said to him.

"Bitch!" Foyet yelled punching the already broken mirror, shards fell into the sink and his reflection stared up at him through bloody water, he shook his hand loose of mirror flecks and blood, his knuckle was bleeding now. Foyet stared at it wriggling his fingers watching the blood seep down the back of his hand. He brought it up to his face and sucked the wound clean spitting the blood out onto the floor his reflection looked like a maniacal demon gaping back at him, multiple faces with bloody teeth glared at him from inside the shattered mirror. Foyet ran his hand under the faucet a moment then shut it off shaking the excess water away. He strode over to one of the dingy, cracked windows and looked out at the city.

The street lamps were beginning to flicker off, and cars already were rushing people off to their destinations. Behind the old building George had parked his car inside a rusted out shed and covered it with a dirty sheet. No one ever came here, Foyet happened to have a key to the gate that had coiled razor wire above it. This had been his home before his adoptive parents had come for him, it hadn't been so bad… no one abused him… at least not the way he had been. The orphanage was run by nuns who were very strict and it was made known that the rules were never to be broken, which George learned time and again by receiving a swift whack with a meter stick from mother superior.

He was thirteen when he was adopted by the Foyet's, their son had died in an accident years before and they were attempting to the fill the void. George was different by that time, when he'd arrived he was careless and belligerent. Now with the guidance of his superior and his own amazing self-control he'd become the picture perfect son for any couple looking for a child to welcome home. Though if only they knew the rage that seethed below the surface they may have not been so eager to sign on the dotted line.

George watched as snow began to fall, he half smiled to himself as he watched the flakes flutter down to the ground. He wondered what Reid was doing, if he had slept and if he was happy to be with his friends. Something Foyet had never had… even as a child he'd been alone, his only playmates were things he tinkered with. He had a fascination with taking things apart and seeing what they looked like inside… very telling about his future undertakings really.

Foyet sighed sitting down on an old steel framed bed, the mattress was torn and its innards were sticking out. It didn't seem to concern George in the least as he lay down and began to instantly drift off to sleep with the thought of his young lover spinning through his mind.