She looked away for a minute and began to speak: "When I was less than three years old, I learned how to read. But not just any books. No, I read things like War and Peace, and Gone with the Wind. I even taught myself French so I could read some of the classics in their native tongue." She gave a small smile, but it quickly vanished when she began speaking again. "I had to hide it from my parents. Once, they caught me in our library, and yelled at me. They thought I was going to color on and rip apart the books. Shortly after my third birthday, they caught me reading. They didn't believe me even when I began to recite soliloquies from the Shakespearean play I was reading. My mom thought I was being possessed."
"They caught you reading and punished you for it?"
"That was my life. Of course, the thoughts of being possessed by demons may have come from what happened next. Later that day, I was home alone with my mom and she fell down the steps. I was standing behind her when it happened, and she swears I pushed her."
"Did you?" Spencer was astounded that Isabel may have purposely hurt her mother.
"I didn't touch her. Have you ever read Matilda?"
"Yes."
"Well, there's your answer. Anyway, I was locked in my room for about a month after that. Years passed with barely any incidents. I was allowed to read, but I had to stay within my reading level. You can probably imagine how annoyed I was about that. When I was four, I began Kindergarten-just like every other normal child. The school I was in had a very large library. I would check out books and keep them at school so my parents wouldn't find out. Instead of paying attention to the teacher I read my books during class. I got well enough grades, so why did it matter if I didn't pay attention? I was just like any normal child until first grade. Some kid saw me reading and began to tease me. He took my book and ripped, and I got so angry that a beat him within an inch of his life using my shoe. Before the cops and my parents came, the teacher began to chide me for every miniscule error I had made that year. I almost killed her too. You're probably wondering how a five-year-old could beat up a teacher. Even I don't know how I won, but the slim chances of my victory only fueled my parents' demonic possession story."
Reid's mouth dropped to the floor. A million thoughts began whirling around his head. Well that explains why she has no shoes. She almost killed a first grader and a teacher? I don't stand a chance in a fight against her! He looked around for his gun just in case he needed to use it, but it was missing.
"Looking for this?" Isabel held up his gun.
Reid closed his eyes; he didn't want to see her take the shot.
She laughed and dropped the gun next to her. "Did you really think I would shoot? You're such good company. I only took it so you couldn't use it against me."
Fair point, Reid thought. "Okay, you can continue."
"I was sent to Alcatraz Asylum for the Criminally Insane straightaway, and-."
"Hold on, I thought you were sent to Blackwood, and Alcatraz has never been used as an Asylum or any kind of jail since March 21, 1963."
"Not Alcatraz the prison. This was just some place in California that wanted to call itself something memorable. As for Blackwood, well, I'm getting to that. So, I was sent to Alcatraz Asylum. It would be a severe overstatement to say that I was happy there, but I tolerated it. Then about three years ago, it went up in flames along with my records. I was the only one who escaped. I always had a knack for being quiet, and I was sneaking outside to see the stars. I did that every night, but that time was different. I was already out when I heard the screams. I kept running and never looked back. Every night before I fall asleep, I can still hear those screams."
Spencer flinched and adverted his eyes. Isabel looked at him for a moment, and then threw his gun back to him.
"Why are you giving this back to me?" Spencer asked.
"It's simple," Isabel smiled. "I know you won't shoot me, at this point you are having flashbacks to your own life. I bet you can still hear the screams from the people you've shot, the victims you've found, and the screams from yourself when you know that you will never catch the criminal."
How does she know all this? Maybe she is being possessed. Spencer pushed aside that thought; he did not believe in demonic possession. "You're right. Everything you said, but how do you know?"
She looked at him for a moment before answering. "I've been watching how you react to my storytelling. You and I are very alike, except you had people in your life who supported you. You know the exact date that Alcatraz ceased to be a prison. Plus, you said that you were from the FBI; I can only imagine the things you see every day. I'm guessing that you were teased and beaten up as a child, probably because you were smarter than everyone else. You also specifically mentioned Schizophrenia instead of just saying mental patients. Someone you know had that or was thought to have had that disease."
"My mom."
"Ah, so I was correct?"
Spencer nodded. "Have you ever considered a career in profiling?
Isabel suddenly looked angry. "How could I have thought about any career when I've been locked up for the past 15 years?"
