Hello lovelys!

This is my first Criminal Minds fic, I just started watching it a couple months ago after my favourite show ended. I am now hooked.

I apologise in advance for the very short first chapter. The next chapter is already written and will be posted tomorrow. I just felt this chapter and the next chapter should be separated.

Set in season 5, closer to the end of the season, because I like Prentiss and I don't want to deal with Doyle or the aftermath of him.

Please review!

San Diego, California

Emilia Banks didn't know how long she'd been in the basement. There was only one window within the entire room, small and high up, letting in very little sunlight. Some days it would be enough to light up the room. Most times, it would only serve as an indication of another day passed. From the window, she assumed she was down there for eight days, but she wasn't sure. She didn't have regular meals, regular visits or regular sleeping times. She was so exhausted she spent most of her time asleep in her chair, comfort long since being forgotten. Her wrists were tied down onto the arms of the chair, her ankles tied to the legs, and a gag tied too tightly to keep her quiet. She gave up screaming long ago.

The door to the basement at the top of the stairs opened and Emilia couldn't help the small whimper that came out. The man that she had seen so often the past week slowly and loudly descended the stairs, a sad smile on his face. He grabbed a chair from the foot of the stairs and dragged it behind him as he approached the young woman. He place the chair in front of her and sat down.

"I figured you out, Emilia," he said calmly. The woman's breathing quickened, not sure what that meant for her. "I thought you were different. I thought you could keep me distracted, but I was wrong."

The man untied her right wrist gently. Emilia lifted her free hand, and without even thinking about it, moved to smack the man in the face. The man's hand shot up and grabbed Emilia before she could make contact with his face. The man smiled sadly again and looked at her, a genuine apology in his eyes.

"You see?" he asked. "I knew you would do that. I've figured you out now, and you're useless to me." Emilia yanked her hand free, but before she could move it, the man spoke, "Please don't start scratching your chest. That can't be good for you, and it really is an unattractive nervous tick."

Emilia's eyes widened. She knew of her nervous tick for years, but how did he? Her hands were tied the entire time she was there.

"Like I said, I figured you out," the man said. "Your anxiety was the thing that drew me to you in the first place." The question she had was so clear in her eyes she may as well have spoken it out loud. How did he know about her anxiety? "You're very easy to set off, and when I see you working on your computer at the café, you never spend more than five minutes actually typing. Most of the time you just stare off, with that sad look in your eye. Every conversation I've ever heard you have was filled with negativity. At first I thought you were just a pessimist with a short fuse and the attention span of a three year old, but then I saw the scratches and everything fit into place."

Emilia continued to stare in shock. This man didn't just kidnap her, he had stalked her. No, stalked wasn't the right word. He had studied her. Day in and day out, he stayed in his corner at the café and he studied her as if she was some kind of animal. But the only true animal that she could see from her side of things was the man sitting across from her. He still had the courage to give her that smile, as if he was so very sorry and grateful for her. He made her sick.

"You really have been entertaining for me this past week, and even though I've now grown tired of your company, I wish to reward you for that," he said. He grabbed her wrist again, flipping it so her palm was facing up. "I'm going to make this as quick and painless as I can." He reached behind his back and pulled out a syringe. Emilia's struggles were useless as he inserted the needle into her arm. She screamed in protest, but that didn't stop the man from pushing the liquid into her body. Her screaming and struggling began to die down, and suddenly, the young woman really wanted to sleep.

Emilia stared at the man in front of her. His stupid apologetic smile was still on his face. He thought he was doing her a favour with this injection, that somehow this quick death made things better. Emilia wanted to scream at him, swear at him, and, for the first time in her life, she actually wanted to hurt the man in front of her. She was never a violent person, but right here, right now, she wanted to hurt him. Even if she wasn't restrained, though, she was far too weak to fight.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and for the last time, she closed her eyes.

All extremes of feelings are allied with madness.

– Virginia Wolf