CHAPTER 1
They worry about her – something is different about her, but none of them have the guts to confront her about it… Not just yet, anyway.
But something is definitely wrong.
They keep a close eye on her, however, it seems excessive; she is a profiler after all – she knows just exactly when they creep behind to keep watch over her, or even watch her from afar.
She knows they overcompensate – they hug her, hold her, and ask her questions about how she's doing. She doesn't seem to show annoyance or irritability, however, there is no warmth or depth in reciprocating to their advances.
She knows they have been watching her every move. She knows they are just checking to see if she is on the verge of breaking.
But she's already broken.
They strenuously observe her as she continues on with her paperwork. It makes them nervous, seeing how quiet she's become. Yet, she is still effective at her job – completing the paperwork, inserting her input during a case or profile. But other than that, she makes no effort to communicate with anyone – she only responds when she has to.
When she comes home from work, she drops her bags and belongings onto the floor, and lies on the couch. She stares at the ceiling until she loses the strength to battle unconsciousness.
Initially, she had cried into Will's arms before passing out; but since then he'd been back to working night shifts, leaving her with no shoulder to cry on.
So she stares at the ceiling and thinks of nothing as she falls asleep, until a nightmare forces her awake.
The nightmares are unrelenting – Iraq, the abduction, the torture, the tormenting hallucinations… They're so real; so vivid…
They terrify and torment her; night after endless night.
Yet she refuses to tell anyone about it.
In the morning, she is up earlier than her alarm. She arrives to work earlier than the others, but she looks rather drained; weary. The way she acts, the way she interacts with the others…
It is disheartening.
They ask her if she is okay, or if she is doing all right; to which she responds. However, she never forms more than a sentence when she is summoned to speak. And when she does speak, the intonation in her voice maintains a low, monotonic pitch to it. She doesn't smile – or even tries to fake one in that matter. When they make advances such as hugging, she reciprocates them in a cold and distant manner.
They notice that she never seems to take her eyes off her cellphone – it is unlikely that she receives messages or calls every minute; she just stares at the lock screen for minutes on end.
Soon they realize she stares at the clock on her phone.
She counts the seconds, minutes, and hours – she counts down how long she's made it since the day of her abduction.
They realize she has developed paranoia.
She is already broken.
The doctors had warned them about the very high chance of her developing PTSD, depression, or paranoia, but did not expect her to develop all three.
Now they are extremely worried.
Yet, the way she deals with it is… Different.
She does not act broken, no. But the act she displays on a daily basis is much worse than that.
She is dead on the inside.
AN: Hmm. How are you guys liking present tense? I'm not really feeling it haha. We'll see how the next chapter works out.
AN2: BY THE WAY, if any of you who are reading this are new, you must must must read the first story, 200 (Part I), in order for this whole story to make sense! Thanks again!