(Author's Note: Thank you all for taking the time to read this. I really hope you do enjoy it. :) A few little things about my story: Gideon never leaves. I believe that Gideon should have never left the show and I miss Gideon's character so much, so Gideon stays the whole time. Also, JJ and Prentiss stay as well. Only in a perfect world would this always be. Haha. Anyway, enjoy.)

It all seemed so harmless. I was approaching the stairs to head to my class, wondering what we were going to be doing in Trigonometry, when I saw a group of about eight African-American boys standing at the side doors of my school, calling to me. It was raining, so I decided to let them in, despite the rules. Before I knew what happened, I was punched in the face. My body slammed to the ground, shocking me.

My friend Elias spun from around the corner and approached me.

"Shelly!" he shouted.

"No!" I screamed back at him, trying to warn him. But it was too late. A boy had grabbed him and held a gun to his head. I tried to get up and help him, but another boy grabbed me before I could get to Elias. I looked at his face. His teeth were gritted into a strange smile; almost a taunting smile. Terror flooded me as I looked at him. I turned away and looked at Elias.

"Kill him," the boy holding me said to the other boy.

"No!" I yelled. The gun went off and blood splattered through-out the air. It rained down on me, showering my face and body with Elias's blood. I gasped in horror. Tears made their way to my eyes and fear coursed through my veins. I started sobbing and the boy hit me with the butt of his gun.

"Why?" I asked, panicked.

"No crying," he said sternly. The boy who had killed Elias dropped him and ran off to join the others. I could hear screams and gunshots flood the building.

"Why?" I said again.

"Shut up!" my captor screamed. The dread I felt finally overtook me as the boy wrapped his arm around my neck and pushed me in front of him. He led me along the halls, forcing me to be his shield as we wandered past the main entrance. I could see cop cars and a news team already stationed. Teachers and students alike were trying their hardest to funnel their way through the doors, shouting in terror and in fear of being killed.

"Quit lookin'," the boy said as he dragged me along, tearing my eyes away from the scene.

"You white bitches are all the same. Greedy, angry, competitive. Always taking away from the black man," the boy whispered angrily into my ear. We made it to the stairs to the cafeteria and he let go. He pointed the gun at me.

"Go," he said, gesturing to the stairs. Conflicted, I took one step, but came back up. He approached me and slapped me across the face. I felt the throb seep down right to the bone.

"Go!" he shouted. I held back tears as I went down the stairs. I looked behind me to see if he was still there. He was, a gun pointed right at my head. I went ahead into the cafeteria and then the boy locked all the doors. Coming back to me, the boy snagged an aluminum folding chair from the corner of the cafeteria. He unfolded it and looked at me.

"Sit down." Scared, I did what I was told. He grabbed the huge bag from his shoulder and took out a pair of handcuffs. He grabbed my arms and put them on the back rail of the chair. He snapped my hands into the cuffs and then went back to his bag. He dragged a cafeteria table a few feet away from me and set up a laptop, a camera, and a tripod. He plugged everything in and turned everything on.

He turned on the camera and brought up a window. There was a video feed on of a young man with sunken, sad eyes. He frowned at me, staring intently. I questioned in my mind who he was until I saw an "FBI" vest on him. I could make out that he was on a plane and several other people were standing near him, watching me.

My captor gestured toward the camera.

"Go ahead," he said. I cleared my throat and tried to fill my throat with words.

"Hello," I said, my voice breaking. I felt his hand hit my face, hotter than before. I gasped and sniffled.

"No crying!" he yelled.

"What's your name?" the man on the video feed asked. I looked at my captor sickly, hating the fact that I needed permission to speak.

"Shelly," I said weakly. "Shelly Karlson."

"Are you all right?" he asked. I held back my tears as I shook my head. The boy's hand hit me again, stinging. I watched the man on the screen flinch as I was hit.

"Shelly, Shelly, it's all right. I've been where you are before. I'm from the FBI. He cannot break you. Do not let him break you. You're a very brave girl and-"

"Shut the fuck up!" the boy screamed at the camera.

"Why?"

"Just shut it!"

"What about if I call her intelligent? Does that-"

"Stop it!" the boy shouted. He slapped me again. I grunted and the man on the screen flinched again.

"Do you want to hurt a little, white girl? Do you want to kill her?" the boy said to the man.

"Of course not. And you don't have to. You don't have to do any of this. Why keep hurting her?" the man asked.

"Kiwane," the boy answered gravely. I knew what he had meant by Kiwane. I knew that Kiwane was an African American boy who was wrongfully shot by a white cop. Many people protested the shooting and tried to convict the officer of a hate crime. It never went through the court system.

"Is this revenge for what that officer did to Kiwane?" I asked.

"Who's Kiwane?" the man asked.

"You're the Feds. Figure it out," the boy growled. The boy shut out of the video feed on the computer.

"Don't get too comfortable," he said, an evil smile gracing his face. "They can still see us." My heart beat rose as the boy grabbed another aluminum chair and brought it towards me. He unfolded it and sat right in front of me.

"So," he said, "tell me. Why have your people pushed us to the back of the line? The bottom of the food chain?" Then I realized this boy was putting on a show.

"I-I didn't do anything," I muttered.

"Liar!" he shouted as he stood abruptly from his chair and threw it across the room. I slunk further into my chair, trying to hide. "Quit lying, you white whore!"

"I swear. I didn't do anything!" I tried to shout, but my breaking voice tore the words into sobs. Tears stained my cheeks and the boy slapped me again.

"I said no crying!" he shouted, his face level with mine. I struggled against the chair and stood up as I did. The boy pushed me back down again and I hit the chair hard. He went back to his bag and brought out thin, white rope. He got down on his knees in front of me and tightly tied my legs to the chair. I tried moving them, but they were stuck. He smiled with satisfaction as he got up.

"I hadn't expected you'd be so easy to catch. I mean, I was on the search for a white bitch, but there you were letting us in," he said, pacing, a smile on his face

"By letting us in, you have killed many of your classmates. How does that make you feel?"

"I didn't do anything," I said once more. The boy grabbed a fistful of my hair and bent my head back. He stared directly into my eyes.

"You are all guilty," he said. He threw my head to the side and walked angrily towards the cafeteria door and unlocked it. He was just about to leave when he peeked back in.

"Wait till you see the news cast on how you killed all your classmates. It's going to be great," he smirked. Then he exited and locked the door again. Tears spilled from my eyes down to my cheeks and onto my shirt.

"Shelly?" I heard someone say. I looked around and saw that the video feed from earlier had popped back up. The man with sweet, sad eyes was looking at me. I turned away from him, still crying.

"It's all right. It's going to be okay," he said, his voice soothing me.

"I don't want to die," I squeaked in between my sobs. He nodded, as if he completely understood me.

"I will make sure you don't die. You are going to come out of this alive, Shelly. I promise," the man said. "My name is Spencer Reid and I'm going to help you. I won't leave until he comes back. I don't want to lose communication with you."

"Okay," I sniffled, silencing my cries.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"18," I said, wiping my face on my shirt.

"An adult now? Wow. How is it?" I realized he was trying to make small talk to keep my mind busy.

"Fine. Have you seen the news?" I asked with curiosity, still sniffling from my tears.

"Yes. They're asking for information from us, but we won't give it to them. We think that's what the unsub wants," Spencer answered.

"Unsub?" I asked.

"Unknown subject. The boy." I nodded. I sat there for a few moments, silent, trying to muster up the courage to ask a question. I finally found the words.

"Does my mom know?" I asked. He bit his lip.

"Yes. She's making a statement as we speak." I gulped, trying to shove my tears as far as I could.

"Can… can I see?" I asked.

"I don't think that'd be a good idea," Spencer answered truthfully. I nodded.

"It's probably for the best," I agreed. I struggled against the cuffs, returning to my situation.

"I don't like this," I said, making noise with my cuffs. They were cutting into my hands painfully, as were the ropes.

"I know. It's one of the worst feelings in the world. But, it's going to be okay."

"I can't do this," I gasped, flooded with panic once more. I could feel the tears rising to my face and soon they were spilling again. "I'm going to die, aren't I? Oh God, I'm going to die." I looked away from Spencer, ashamed.

"Listen and look at me," Spencer said assertively. I turned to him, trying to silence my sobs. He looked me strongly in the face. "You are not going to die. You will live. All right? You. Will. Live."

Reluctantly, I nodded. He sighed and relaxed in his chair.

"Good. You have to stay positive and don't lose hope. Even if you display fear on the outside, you have to being hopeful on the inside. If it's okay with you, I have a friend here who would like to talk to you."

I nodded, wiping the tears onto my shirt. Spencer pushed himself to the left slightly and another man appeared beside Spencer. He was middle-aged and had a half-balding head. His face had hard features, but his gaze was soft and thoughtful.

"Hello Shelly. I need some information from you. Is that okay?" the man asked.

"Yes."

"All right. My name is Jason Gideon and I work at the B.A.U with Spencer. I just have a few questions." I nodded.

"Okay. Has this boy said anything to you that could help us out? Anything suspicious or anything odd?" Jason asked.

"I know that he's mentioned my race. He's called me a 'white whore'. Do you think he's doing this because I'm white?"

"That might be the case. We're not really sure yet. But we have looked up Kiwane's case. You've lived in the area your whole life, so maybe you can tell us more about the story."

"It's basically what the papers said. There was a shooting, the cop never went to trial, many African Americans were angry about it. I know our school had been on a soft lockdown for the past few weeks, but nobody thought anything of it."

"Soft lockdown?" Gideon asked questioningly.

"Yeah. People have to buzz in to get into the building. There are side doors, but you're not supposed to let anyone in. God, I feel so stupid," I said, wiping my face onto my shirt.

"It's okay. None of this is your fault."

"I want to believe that."

"Shelly, none of this is your fault," Spencer said in his sternest voice. I sighed and nodded.

"Is there anything else you can tell us?" Gideon questioned.

"He's rough, unkind. He has a gun."

"Anything about his behavior?"

"I think he's putting on a show," I said solemnly, hanging my head for a moment.

"We thought so too. Those are pretty good profiling skills," Gideon said to me. I managed a weak smile.

"Statistically, more unsubs tend to keep their victims private until a press release, but this one is intent on making it public. He wants to get his message across. Garcia said that the feed is streaming to a website," Spencer said.

"With access to show the world, he can do anything he wants with this," Gideon stated. I watched them talk to each other, putting the pieces together.

"This isn't a hate crime, Reid. This is a game. One he plans on winning," Gideon said, realizing what was going on. He left his seat and fled to the front of the plane.

"Spencer?" I asked warily. Just then, I heard the lock click on the door.

"Go! Go!" I said. "He's coming!"

"Wait! Do you know anybody else he's killed?" Spencer asked.

"Elias. Elias Mitchell." Spencer nodded and the feed shut off just as the boy came through the door, slipping through carefully. He locked the door again. He turned around, his teeth yellow smiling at me; hard and gritted.

He approached me and whipped back his right hand. I prepared for the impact on my right cheek and closed my eyes. I heard a chuckle, and then his left hand hit my left cheek hit I hadn't embraced for impact. Red, hot stinging surged through my cheek. Then he punched me in the stomach, causing me to jerk forward. Blood splattered from my mouth and dribbled lazily down my chin.

"Please, stop," I groaned weakly. But several blows still came, and more blood made its way to my mouth. I even managed to cough it up on the boy. About six blows to the stomach, chest, and sides and I was throbbing. I sat there, in shock. My mind and body were tired, willing to give up.

"You have to stay positive and don't lose hope." It was Spencer's words running through my head, reminding me that I had to get out alive. I had to make it.

The boy looked at me as I was struggling to draw in breaths. He just stared at me, marveling in my excellent horror. He brought his thumb to the corner of my mouth and wiped off some blood. He bent down right into my face and put his thumb in his mouth.

"Yum," he whispered. Then he turned around fleetingly. He left the room again and I hung my head low, ashamed and helpless.

"Shelly?" I heard that familiar, warm voice say. It made tears well up to my eyes and pour over my cheeks, mixing with my blood. I gasped in between my long sobs.

"It's all right," Spencer soothed. "It's all going to be all right. I know how you feel."

"How?" I asked, sobbing my hardest.

"I was in your seat once. I've been in those handcuffs; in that chair. I just want you to know you're not alone." My sobs softly dissipated as I thought about getting out of the room. Spencer's words lingered in my mind.

"Thank you," I whispered weakly.

"You're welcome." I let a small smile escape my lips as a sign of gratitude. Spencer smiled lightly back. Then we began to talk about many things. He tried to keep my mind off the situation at hand. Thought I had stopped to ask questions every now and then.

"Why haven't the police stepped in?" I asked after we were done talking about the trivial facts of Soviet Russia.

"We're still working a profile. Plus, there are still some teachers and students locked in the building and we don't want to risk any of them dying as well," Spencer answered. I nodded and sighed and we began talking again. He managed to lift my mind from the events unfolding before my eyes. I even managed to laugh a few times even though each laugh was followed by a piercing pain.

"I think this is the longest conversation I've ever had with anyone in forever," Spencer chuckled.

"Me too," I admitted, giggling, the blood on my face wrinkling and flaking. A moment of complete silence followed, dragging me back into reality.

"Spencer?"

"Yes?"

"Am I going to live? Don't sugar coat it. Give me statistics."

"Shelly, you are going to live." I sighed, struggling against the rope and handcuffs again.

"I'm sorry," Spencer whispered sadly.

"It's... okay. It's not your fault," I said, still unsettled by the whole situation.

"I know. It's just… I've been in those restraints. I've been in that chair. I know that fear."

"It sucks."

"I know." I sighed and looked at his eyes. They were like mine: they had dark circles around them and they were sunken. Spencer smiled slightly at me again to reassure me. I smiled back slightly.

"Any chance of me getting out of here soon?" I asked.

"When we land, we're going straight to the crime scene. Gideon's been on the phone with the Unsub twice, but can't get through to him."

"How is the situation going?"

"A lot of the Unsub's accomplices have come forward and have come out of the school, but there are still a few in there. The accomplices won't say anything, but we think that they Unsub has changed motives."

"What do you mean?"

"It means the purpose is no longer for Kiwane. Or never was." I paused for a moment; thinking.

"What is his motive then?"

"I don't think you-"

"Please," I pleaded.

"We think he's doing it for sexual gratification. He's a sexual sadist."

I sighed and closed my eyes for a minute, sinking it all in. "So, he's beating me for his own pleasure."

"Yes. And it's only a matter of time before he…" Spencer trailed off, wincing at the unsaid word.

"Rapes? It's only a matter of time before he rapes me?" I asked. Spencer nodded and I tried to hold back my tears once more, but they came flooding out of my eyes.

"Spencer, please get me out of here," I gulped, sucking in a huge breath of air.

"We'll be there soon. I promise. Just hold on."

"Okay," I whispered, letting silent tears roll down my face. I heard the lock click and I looked over at the door.

"He's coming," I whispered harshly. Spencer nodded and the video feed went dead. The boy walked in again, looking more agitated and frustrated than ever.

"Fuck!" he shouted. He kicked a metal garbage can roughly and it went flying across the cafeteria floor. I rumbled to a stop on a nearby wall. I jumped at the startling noise. The boy walked over to me and took my face in his hand. He lowered his face in to mine.

"You fucking white people. All the same. You think you're so fucking smart and prestigious." He threw my face to the side violently.

"We don't all think like that," I said. The boy kicked over my chair so that I was on my back. My hands, being behind me, were crushed under my weight. I screamed as I hit the pavement. A rush of hot pain flooded my fingers, surging through my hands.

"You're a liar. A filthy, white liar. You sicken me," he said, watching me writhing in pain. I grunted as I tried to move over to my side to escape the crushing ache.

"How do your hands feel?" he asked playfully.

"Please, please, please," I whimpered. He brought my chair up to his level again and I found it difficult to move my fingers.

"Why?" I sobbed.

"You're a whore."

"You're wrong!" I shouted, anguish escaping from me. I knew that he would see this as an ample opportunity to "punish" me again. He slapped my face and pushed over my chair once more. My fingers hurt worse than before. I screamed at the top of my lungs, begging for relief. My body started shaking with pain. He got in my face and smiled at me.

"Say it," he said, spraying spit on me.

"I'm a whore!" I shouted, satisfying his need. He brought my chair back up and the tears continued to pour out of my eyes.

"Say you like it."

"I like it," I whispered, defeated. I hung my head low and didn't dare look up. He patted my cheek and went up to the camera.

"You heard it for yourselves," he said matter-of-factly. Tears still streaked my cheeks as the boy left the room again. I heard the locks click and then Spencer's face popped back up. I looked up briefly to see his comforting face. Tears were streaked across his cheeks too. His mouth was partially agape as he looked at me.

"Please," I whispered, begging to Spencer. More tears formed in his eyes as he spoke to me.

"We'll be there soon. Very soon." Spencer's voice was breaking. We sat there in silence. My spirit felt like it was broken. I was ready to give up. I would have welcomed death.

"We've just landed and we'll be there in five minutes," Spencer said, finally breaking the heart-breaking silence. "It's almost over, Shelly. Gideon agrees that this can't go on any longer. As soon as we get there, we're coming in."

"Okay," I said solemnly. On the whole car ride there, I watched Spencer. His face was solemn and determined. He looked stronger than ever as I saw him pull up to the school. Just then the locks clicked and the boy came storming in.

"Spencer!" I said.

"What are you doing?" he asked. The boy stormed over to the computer and Spencer peered back on the screen, the school visibly behind him.

"You've been talking with the Feds?" the boy asked, shocked and enraged. I cowered and Spencer shut the laptop.

"No, no!" I tried to lie, screaming as loud as I could, hoping Spencer would hear me to ensure he knew where I was.

"You're a slutty, lying bitch, aren't you?" the boy asked, grabbing a fist full of my hair and bending my head back to look into his eyes. I shook my head and he put his hands around my neck. I gagged, trying to gasp for breaths that were just out of my reach.

"I can't believe you've been talking with the fucking Feds this whole time," he said, pressing down harder and harder on my neck. I shook my head, but he only grasped harder. The boy laughed at me as I struggled for breaths.

"Don't lie to me." My vision was fading quickly and all the sounds around me were beginning to sound muffled. Every sense was dulling and my heart rate was slowing down.

Just before everything went dark, I saw Spencer and Gideon burst through the doors and the boy doubled over.

Death is a lot colder than you think. There was nothing there as I sat in waiting for my savior. Just a cold darkness that consumed every sense. But when my eyes finally decided to open up again, I was lying face down on the cafeteria floor and Spencer's mouth was on mine and his hands were pumping my heart.

"You do not get to die!" he shouted, intensity rising in his voice. He put his lips on my mouth again and I opened my eyes all the way. Spencer took his lips off of mine and I rolled my head to the side and coughed loudly. My cuffs were already undone and I looked up at Spencer. He undid my ropes and dragged me into a hug.

"Thank you," I said hoarsely.

"You're welcome," Spencer said. He pulled me away and smiled at me. I smiled back. I saw a struggle out of the corner of my eye and Gideon was putting up a fight with the boy.

"You shot me!" the boy shouted.

"You tried to kill an innocent girl."

"Oh, all of you whiteys deserve it. Especially her," the boy pointed at me. Gideon grabbed his arms and handcuffed them.

"Walk," he commanded.

"I'm not done with you," the boy shouted. "I'll slit your wrists one day. I'll rape you. I'll fucking kill you!" the boy shouted as Gideon hauled him off down the hallway and up the stairs. I hugged Spencer again.

"Don't worry. He can't hurt you," he soothed. I nodded, holding on tighter. Spencer picked me up and carried me down the hallway. All the while, I hugged him, holding on for dear life. We walked out the front doors and there were photographers and media surrounding us. Spencer carried me over to a stretcher by an ambulance. My mother came over and kissed me and hugged me as the EMTs strapped me down.

"Oh darling," she cried, kissing my face. I started feeling woozy as the EMTS loaded me onto the ambulance.

"If you can meet us at Carle Hospital, Mrs. Karlson, please," Spencer said as he climbed aboard the ambulance with me.

"All right," I heard my mom say. An oxygen mask was put on my face and then the doors of the ambulance closed. Spencer came right next to me.

"They'll want to check for nerve damage of the hands, internal bleeding, vocal cord damage, brain damage, and broken bones in the hands, wrist, arms, and face," Spencer ordered.

"You were right," I hoarsely whispered.

"About what?" he asked, touching my face gingerly.

"I did make it out of there alive," I managed to say, tears trickling down the side of my eye and onto the stretcher. Spencer wiped them away.

"No more crying," he said, softly smiling. I tried to nod, but my head was strapped down.

"Okay," I said, feeling my breaths becoming more labored. It came on fast and as it did, I tried to grab for Spencer's arm. The monitor I was hooked up to started beeping.

"No, no, no!" he said, grabbing his hair in frustration. The EMT came next to me and inserted a needle into my arm. Spencer looked at me with frightened eyes as I was convulsing. My vision was starting to fade and nothing seemed real for a moment.

"I'll be here," Spencer said, but it seemed distant; surreal.