When the Levee Breaks
The farther behind I leave the past, the closer I am to forging my own character.
Isabelle Eberhardt
SEVEN
'Emily Prentiss, I'm with the FBI.' She held out a hand to shake that of Angela Morrison. It had been a difficult task to get into the office, even after the incident in the foyer. Angela Morrison was somewhat paranoid after her ordeal, and had demanded to see three forms of ID before letting the FBI agent through. They shook hands briefly now, though, Angela's grip fairly loose.
'Have you been in your office all day?' Prentiss asked curiously.
'Yes. Why?'
'The building's secretary was being a bit... disorganized,' she finished diplomatically, though it wasn't exactly the word she had wanted to use.
'Max?' asked Angela. 'He's an incompetent fool. We've asked the temp agency to send someone new next time, but they always send Max.'
Prentiss jumped in there. She was sure if she didn't stop Angela, the other woman would go on talking about anything but the kidnapping all morning. 'I need to ask you a few questions about your kidnapping.'
'Have you caught the guy? Have you got him?' she asked quickly, hopes raised.
'Not yet,' admitted Prentiss. 'I think it may be related to the recent disappearances. Could you just tell me everything you remember?'
Angela Morrison nodded slowly. 'I was finishing up late. It was maybe 9, 9:30. I didn't lock up because there were still one or two people in the building, plus the cleaners. I went out to my car, and I heard this noise – a footstep. I turned to see who was coming, but he'd hit me before I could see.' She stopped, choking on her words. She had more than a few tears in her eyes, but she endeavoured to continue. 'Everything after that is mostly blank. I might have been tied to a chair? It felt like I was there for days, but I was never tortured. I remember the cold. Oh God it was so cold.' She broke down, letting out the tears in racking sobs. Emily grasped her hand. It had been loose in the handshake, but now it almost cut off the circulation. After a few minutes, she calmed down, by which point Emily's hand had fallen asleep. Then, she continued as if nothing had happened.
'I woke up in the hospital. They said I'd been drugged pretty heavily, and was found wandering the streets in dirty, sweat-soaked clothes. The police talked to me, but they never found anything. If this is the same man...' she trailed off, looking blankly at the far wall.
'I feel broken inside,' she confessed as Emily got up to leave. 'Like nothing is ever going to be the same.'
'No,' agreed Emily. 'It never is.'
A/N: Here's a short one before I go to work. I find it easier to have lots of shorter chapters rather than fewer long ones. That said, I'll try and post a bit more tonight, so don't fret about the low content. Also, I'm looking for some reader opinion: soon, Emily will finally talk to someone about some things, but I'm not quite sure who she should be talking to. I was erring on Rossi, with the possibility of Morgan, but what do you lot think? Read and review. Cheers, tfm.