It was there she sat, after two full years.
Her hair was an inch long and brown, sticking up at the sky and the ground and the walls and the tops of her ears, shiny with sweat. A dark shade of red lipstick smeared her cheek. Her eyes were brown mud floating in khol and mascara, blinking every so often. She didn't move from her position at the desk, her bare ankles were crossed under her chair and her hands were crossed in front of her. Her posture was rigid.
If he didn't love her, he'd think she was scary.
Reid watched the video close to six times, only stopping when Morgan placed a firm hand on his shoulder and told him she was there, sitting in the interrogation room, where she had seen so many people be questioned before her.
The video started off simply enough, the camera held a green door surrounded by cracked red brick. Then it opened slowly, then all at once. A woman, different to the girl in the interrogation room. This woman was tall, 6'1 to be exact, and she was skinny too. All bone, wrists so thin you couldn't believe it. They were proudly displayed when the woman lifted an arm to shield her eyes from the bright outdoor sun. She was ushered away by a faceless man in an FBI vest, who took care not to make sudden movements or touch her right away. Then another woman came. And after that another, all dressed in similar apparel. Sheer stockings, bras, skirts. Their heels are either in their hands or on their feet. Some are wearing wigs, some aren't.
He thinks she won't be there, he's given up all hope by now. He both wishes she is and isn't there. On one hand, It'd be great to see his fiancee again. On the other, he'd nearly wish she'd die before being faced with that torture every day for two years.
The video went on for nearly two minutes before a hint of her turned up. And when she did it was magnificent. She was hesitant as she stepped into the sunlight, something he guessed she hadn't seen in a while due to how unhealthy she looked. The smattering of freckles never her face, but where there was once soft skin there was now harsh cheekbones. Her hair, which was once a light blonde that moved in waves down her shoulders was cut short and choppy.
When she caught sight of the camera her eyes widened slightly and she lifted her hand. For a second he didn't understand what she was doing, not until it broke into a wave. It was here that he started crying. It was still the same her.
(Prologue? Prologue. Please leave some constructive criticism in the comments if you can, I really want to improve!)