Keeping it fresh and new is the greatest challenge of any writer. On the advice of a dear friend (and a chance viewing of "Forensic Files"), I have decided to write this story around Morgan. The story is based on a true case, but overall it's all mine. Although the subject is about rape and mutilation, I will try to keep it on the down low and let the reader's imagination do most of the work.

This is dedicated to Matt--you are my biggest fan and I am so blessed to have you as my friend!

I don't own "Criminal Minds"---but I can still wish!

Part Of The Plan

Time: 0100

Place: Washington, D.C.

Carol Hawn stood, stretched, and turned off the TV. Her shift at the hospital was to start in six hours, but she had yet to fall asleep. It probably didn't help that she had pulled a double shift the night before and now her body was beyond exhausted and incapable of sleeping. She had tried everything, and after watching the second repeat of a news show on FOX, she realized that maybe sleep was not in the stars that night.

Sighing heavily, she started to make her way to the kitchen when a fierce pounding on the front door caused her to jump out of her skin. Setting the coffee cup and plate on the counter, she hurried over and peaked thru the peep hole in the door. A man was standing there, drenched from the rain, and looking confused.

"What the hell?" Carol muttered and unlocked the door, making sure she kept the chain on. "Yes? Can I help you?"

A contrite looking face greeted her. "I'm sorry ma'am, but my car broke down and I have to get to work. Might I be able to use your phone to call my boss and tell him I'm running late?"

Normally a Good Samaritan, Carol started to say yes, but hesitated. "I-I'm sorry, but I can't help you. You don't have a cell phone?"

"It died. Look, I don't want to get fired; I just want to call him. It will only take a minute."

Carol shook her head. "I'm sorry. I can't let you in. Good night."

The man nodded in understanding. "No problem. Good night, ma'am."

Carol closed the door, threw the dead bolt, and extra security lock, and checked the chain twice. She rubbed her hands over her forearms to ward off an unexpected chill. The man didn't seem 'creepy", but who knocks on a door at 0100 to ask for a phone to use?

Turning out the lights, Carol called the cat into the bedroom, got under the covers, and tried to fall asleep even though the face of the stranger haunted her.
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Creeping around the house, a stranger lurked, trying the windows and finding nothing to help his cause. Slowly he made his way to the back of the house and tried the fourth window down. A heavy tug on the corner and it lifted without any effort.

Heaving himself up, he pulled himself inside the bathroom. Stepping down from the toilet, he walked to the door and opened it. Stepping into the hallway, he looked around and took in his surroundings while blindly making his way to the kitchen. Opening a few drawers, he found the knives. Drawing one out, he looked at it in the faint light coming off the microwave clock/counter.

Nice, he thought to himself. Very nice.

Carol turned over in her sleep and moved the cat off the bed. Letting out a small groan, she pulled the covers up higher and felt the mattress dip down. Her sleep fatigued brain tried to figure out if the cat had suddenly gained weight.

"Biff?" she called out. Opening her eyes, Carol saw something dark hovering over her. What in the world?

"Hello, bitch. Can I use your phone now?" the voice taunted and moved the knife to her throat. Carol tried to register the events but was unable.

"What do you want?" she whispered.

A snaky laugh filled the quiet room and chilled her blood. "I thought we might play a game. The rule is that I do whatever I want and you don't make any noise." He ran the knife across Carol's throat and down the valley between her breasts. "If you abide by the rules, I won't kill you."

Quickly Carol's hands and feet were tied while the intruder began his torture. Unable to scream for help, Carol could only lie there and take the beatings and torment afflicted to her body. Over and over she dealt with the abuse from her punisher.

Just as she was on the verge of blacking out, the intruder stopped the torture and stood up. Her eyes closed, she could hear him getting dressed and prayed that he would just leave. Please God, make him leave, she cried silently. She wondered how to get out of the binds around her wrists and get to the phone, when she heard his voice.

"Did you enjoy it?"

Carol, her mouth gagged, mutely nodded. All her self-defense classes had taught her that going along with an attacker was the best way to survive.

"You were pretty good…maybe one of the best I've had." He paused. "But unfortunately, you weren't the best."

Carol's eyes widened in horror. Struggling against her binds, she tried to move off the bed as she saw the knife coming at her. The first thrust of the blade was like white fire against her skin and she tried to scream but the gag absorbed the sound.

Over and over she felt the blade thrust into her body as she pulled herself into fetal position to ward off the blows. She felt the blood leaving her body as she silently cried for help and her mother. As the darkness overwhelmed her, Carol realized her attacker was speaking--asking her a question.

"You still alive bitch?" he growled. Overcome by fatigue and blood loss, Carol could only flutter her eyes in response.

The last thing she remembered was the knife against her throat and then merciful darkness.

Stepping back from Carol's body, the figure looked at her in disgust.

"Next time some one asks to use the phone, you let them," he spat. Leaning over, he used the corner of the sheet to wipe off the handle and blade of the knife. Then he threw it on Carol's lifeless form. Bending over, he dipped his finger in one of her wounds and swirled it around on her abdomen. Then gathering the used condoms, he made his way into the bathroom and flushed them before cleaning himself up.

Turning off the tap, he dried his hands and face off on the towel hanging off the hook. Looking around, he took in the pretty feminine touches that decorated the small space. Nice, he thought with a shrug. Knowing that his mission was complete and with no where to run off to, he stepped from the bathroom to the kitchen and made himself a sandwich.

Rinsing off the dish and knife, he placed them in the sink. Then he crept to the sliding glass door, unlocked it, and let himself out. Closing it behind him, he quietly slipped into the darkness.

In the bedroom, Biff was frantically trying to rouse his mistress. Over and over he rubbed his body against her lifeless hand that hung over the side of the mattress. Crying out, he jumped up and began licking her face. Getting no response, he curled up beside her and tried to keep her warm while his desperate purring filled the room.