Chapter 4

(Flashback part 3)

He sat at his desk easily finishing the seven files he had left. Lunch was called three minutes and 39 seconds after he had set down his pen. He refilled his coffee before grabbing his sandwich and sitting in the breakout room. Everyone else excluding Hotch and Rossi joined bringing their own lunches.

"Who's ready for the long weekend? A new club opened up next to that bar Homestyle House, anyone wanna come with?"

"Sorry Morgan, Henry has decided baseball is an indoor sport, now I have to take him to a field."

"Oof, JJ, that's why I'm never having kids. I won't be able to come. I have dinner planned with my mother. While I'd love to get out of it, I don't want to go clubbing with you." Emily smirked.

"You got burned Chocolate Thunder, I can't go, it's mine and Kevin's anniversary. We have things planned." Garcia said with a wink.

"Pretty Boy?" Morgan said with a hopeless look painted on his face.

"No. I have plans and even if I didn't, you know how many germs there are in a club. Billions, do you know how likely it is you could get sick-"

"Reid," Morgan interrupted, "we really don't care or need to know."

Strike 2

We really don't care.

We don't need to know.

Reid's face fell but quickly was put back into a mask. "How's your paperwork going?"

"God, there's so much paperwork I might have to stay late if I want to finish."

"I hope we get a case soon, paperwork is boring!"

"You do know a case means more paperwork, Morgan?"

"Yeah, but it'll be gone soon enough. Nothing has come in for over 2 weeks."

"Morgan!" JJ reprimanded "be glad the police department is able to catch their own serial killers."

"Yeah, yeah."

The meal continued on with quiet chatter about sports and movies before lunch was over.

Reid threw out his sandwich bag and made his way to Hotch's office. He knocked on the oak door.

"Come in."

Reid walked in shutting the door before standing in front of Hotch's desk.

"Yes Reid?" He said, raising an eyebrow.

"I finished all my paperwork and was wondering if you had any of yours I could do?"

"Are you sure you want more paperwork? I saw you take files from the others already."

"Hotch, I did five times the amount of files they had in 4 hours, I need something to do."

Hotch sighed pointing to a stack of about 15 files. "You can do those files, I'll collect them before I leave." Reid collected the files and turned to leave.

"Reid, make sure you leave on time, don't stay late again."

"Sure." He left files in his hand heading to his desk.

Hotch noticed me taking extra files. Through my mask, my silence, my scars. Why can't anyone see my pain? Why do I deserve this life? Why am I such a ducking failure? Just a fuck up. Worthless. Why was he so weak? Broken. He broke with his angled arms and shattered mind, fresh tears every night, hoping for someone to hear him, to see him, understand him. Why didn't anyone see he wasn't ok? Wasn't truly living anymore. Peace. Why couldn't he just have peace.

Peace. Such a calamity. A rarity. Something he wished he had. Something he could buy with a few cuts or a bottle of pills.

He shook himself from his suicidal thoughts. He grabbed a file and got to work.

He completed them around an hour and a half later. He shook his cramped hand out.

He looked across his desk to Emily. "Need any help?"

She looked up. "What, oh um no. I'm on my last 8 files in about 3-4 hours depending on how distracted I get. Although I noticed quite a few of my files were missing this morning."

He arched his brow. "Were they?"

"Thank you."

"Of course," a small smile slid onto his face. It was nice to be thanked, it made him feel good he was glad she had noticed. They continued asking for a few minutes.

At 2:44 he had 2 hours and 16 minutes left of work. He didn't know if he wanted to go home right now or stay at work as long as he could.

My minds a mess

I'm worthless…

He was now bored. He forgot his book, was done with his work and really did not want to risk writing in his journal. Morgan would label it a diary and a diary was 'girly'. What is so girly about having feelings and not being able to tell anyone but a pen and paper. He settled himself down by grabbing his sketch pad and drawing pencils. He took the pencil with the thinnest stroke and drew the outline of the Empire state building. He switched out pencils as he started shading it in and adding detail. He paused 30 minutes in to refill his coffee. Seeing his mp3 he sighed happily and grabbed his earbuds.

Different from common belief he could not stand classical music. He preferred pop and rock with some indie music thrown in. He relaxed into his chair looking at his sketch before grabbing the 4th pencil to add volume and more of a shadow. He switched it out for a pencil with a broader stroke. Minutes passed by as he drew. He considered adding small pieces of color but decided it looked better in black, white and grey.

When he put down a pencil an hour later he looked down at his building of choice being struck by

"Hey, Pretty Boy, what's that?" Morgan's hand snaked around his body, grabbing the sketchpad.

Reid sighed. "Morgan, can you give it back?"

"I didn't know you could draw," Morgan laughed.

"Well now you do. Can I have it back now, Morgan?" Reid snapped.

"C'mon Pretty Boy, let me see your other sketches," Morgan said as Reid reached to grab the sketchpad.

Reid paled. "No, Morgan, give it back!'

'What did you do to draw naked ladies or something?

Reid was silent momentarily. "Give it back." It was a quiet statement but held force.

"Why are you so protective of your sketchpad?"

Reid thought quickly, his mind going a mile a second. "It's just sketches of things i'I've read and some science things like I drew some atoms colliding. You probably don't know this but aroma have positive and negative charges that can join making a positive or negative atom instead of a neutral-"

"Yeah, yeah here you go, no one wants to willingly listen to you ramble in about science." Morgan handed it back to him and walked away.

Strike 3 and you're out

Reid was hurt he knew that by rambling Morgan would give it back and leave but what he said still shot his chest. It hurt because he knew it was the truth. Who would willingly listen to you ramble. No one. But it was worth it; he couldn't let Morgan see what was truly drawn on the inside. Sure he had some drawings of buildings, flowers, people. It also held his secrets like shiny blades next to a blood stained wrist, himself hanging off the floor while these sketches were plenty. He had dozens of pictures of Angelina to remind him of his promise to try.

Reid slipped his earbuds into his ears desperately trying to drown out the voice in his head.

If they didn't see, they wouldn't know. If they didn't know they couldn't stop him. He didn't want to be stopped, right? Did he want them to stop him, want them to stop letting him make himself bleed? Wasn't they to stop the comments that led him to his darkest moments.

He made his way to the bathroom, locking the stall. Taking a blade out of his bag. Dragging it across the scabs on his arm. Bleeding from open cuts, from new cuts.

He was tired. So tired of all of this. Of feeling like crap. Of pushing all his feelings down. Of being an insignificant pawn who didn't deserve to live. Tired of not being good enough and causing death. The guilt weighs down.

Maybe… maybe he should be the last death he caused.