Since I felt that I did much better writing from Cammi's point of view, I think I'll try to do that this chapter. Tell me what you think!

Footsteps.

Footsteps pacing the floor below her like a herd of elephants.

Voices.

Voices murmuring below her.

Words.

Words she strained to catch, but she could only pick up fractions of them at a time. She tried to fit them together, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, but the pieces she could hear spread before her, as useless and dangerous as the broken glass shards she had discovered just last night.

Who was in her house?

What was in her house?

What did they want, after they had taken so much already?

Cammi wanted to cry out, to show them that they had forgotten someone. Why couldn't she have gone with them? Her family, who she hoped was safe among the stars.

So cold…

Her dad had never bothered to insulate up here. So seldom did anyone venture up.

So tired…

She wanted to sleep. Close her dust laden eyes forever and sink into nothingness. Was that so much to ask? But something kept them open, staring into nothing, counting the frozen insects scattered over the floor.

She shivered in her little nook, frozen to the spot, unable to keep the images at bay. What had Tommy been thinking in his last moments? Had he begged for his life, or had he been so occupied with his computer games that he had never seen it coming?

Can't cry.

She couldn't. She begged herself to. Willed those tears burning behind her eyelids to soak her cheeks, a tangible representation of grief.

But she couldn't. Cammi couldn't even muster the energy to think in complete sentences. The voices below her continued, life speeding ahead of the freezing girl above them. Somebody barked an order, and she flinched.

"Found…backpack…struggle?" she heard someone say. Their voice floated through her consciousness. None of the few strands of a sentence she could catch held any real meaning for her anymore.

Get. Up.

She tried. She really did. Her limbs creaked, the sound sending her huddling back into the floor. Why was she afraid of noise? Did she really care if they found her?

Gone.

That was the crux of it. They were gone, and with them, Cammi herself. The only thing left to understand was why her body was still here, when her soul desperately yearned to be with them. No more fighting with Tommy. She remembered getting so angry at him sometimes. White hot fury coursed through her veins, spilling out in the form of hateful words.

So…sorry…

Even before he had… Well before she had left for school that day they had fought. It was stupid. Something about whose turn it was to feed the goldfish. She had been running late. Had to practice her lines one last time, to ensure flawless delivery at her meet. He had been kicking the soccer ball around, savoring the last few bearable days before winter set in. They had exchanged some hurtful words. She forced herself to forget what they were.

So sorry…

He had shot her the finger, just as she was stowing her script safely in her backpack. In retaliation, she had grabbed the ball, aiming it right for his stomach. She hadn't hurt him. Not physically. Maybe not even emotionally. Not much anyway. But she would hold that angered glare she had last seen him with for years to come.

Stupid. So stupid.

She would give anything for a second chance. A chance to relive the golden days of autumns past, when they would finish their homework and kick around the soccer ball until their mom called them in for dinner. When Tommy would ask to sleep in her bed, because he'd woken up from a terrible nightmare.

She wished she would wake up.

Why can't I cry for them?

Cammi couldn't force the tears past her eyelids, no matter how many times she blinked. Her fingers tightened around the screwdriver she held in her palm, remembering the raw fear she had felt the night before. It had ebbed, giving way to the emptiness she felt now.

This thing, this monster, had done this before. She had heard of the families killed. None of the children had been in the Carroway's social circle, but she had seen the sadness spreading like an illness through the school.

How could he have done this so many times? Inflicted so much pain for seemingly no reason! Tommy had just started middle school. He was on the honor roll, planning to pick up track after soccer ended. Her parents, they were normal people who loved their kids. Her dad took her fishing, even when she swore she'd outgrown those weekend trips. Her mom was always there to talk to; even when Cammi was sure she didn't need her. There wasn't an evil bone in any of their bodies. None of them deserved this.

Cammi gripped the screwdriver tighter in her ice cold hands. It was the only thing tethering her to the present. Without it, she mused, she might be lost completely.

If she wasn't already. Who was she without them? Why had they left her behind?

Why didn't you kill me too? She wailed internally, before giving way to harsh, long overdue sobs.

Emily wandered away from the chaos of the investigation. She cringed as she heard the zip of the body bag, officially ending the misery of the poor little boy whose life had been stolen.

She wandered into his sister's room. Cameron had an eclectic taste: that was for sure. The walls had been painted bright purple, posters of everything from Harry Potter to Linkin Park covering the walls. A small model of the Hogwarts Express sat on a desk that most likely wasn't used for doing work. She had painted glow in the dark stars on her ceiling, which sloped down on one side to a shelf filled with books in all genres.

A flute case lay on the bed, along with a stack of music. Cammi had plastered stickers of music notes all over her folders, and half finished drawings covered the free space of her walls.

It was the bedroom of a normal teenage girl. Emily shuddered to think of what she was going through now. Still, nothing lent a clue as to where the bastard had taken her.

She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Too much for you?" Hotch asked.

"I just can't fathom why he would take a girl. That doesn't match his profile."

"We don't know very much about him yet," he replied. When Emily didn't answer, he shook her gently. "What's wrong?"

Seeming to snap out of it, she jumped. "Nothing. I just thought I heard something." His hand still lingered on her shoulder. Not too long ago, she would have found this odd, but with the easy friendship they had formed since Haley died, such things were commonplace.

There it was again! A sort of sobbing, quietly echoing through the walls. Hope filled her heart.

"Hotch, listen."

He obliged. Soon he could hear it. The almost ghostly wail of impossible loss.

They exchanged a confused glance. "Do you think she found somewhere to hide?" Hotch asked.

Emily shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

The footsteps were drawing closer now. Cammi did her best to stifle the fierce crying, but the tears flowed on. Cursing her body for not obeying her, she eased herself into a wobbly standing position. The closet door directly below opened with a creak. Rage hazed Cammi's vision. Whoever was down there, they would pay for taking Tommy and her parents away.

She wondered briefly how much damage a screwdriver could do. Last night, it was all she had. Merely a defense against the horror awaiting her. Today, she was prepared to kill.

"I found something!" someone yelled. She hadn't the focus to determine the gender. Cammi heard the trapdoor ease open, saw a blurred shape emerge. Her tears distorted the entire image.

"Cameron Carroway?" the voice inquired. Cammi's fingers clenched.

"Don't come any closer," she rasped.

"Cameron, my name is Emily Prentiss. I'm from the FBI. I'm here to help."

"You're lying."

"It's okay. You're safe now."

"It will never be okay," Cammi whispered. The person, Emily Prentiss, took a step forward.

"We have to get you out of here," she said.

Cammi squeezed her eyes shut. The woman's voice reminded her of her mother's. Caring, as if the only thing that would ever concern her was Cammi's safety. She watched the woman walk forward, and didn't bother drawing back.

"Watch your step," Cammi mumbled. "It's not safe up here." The tears were messing up her vision. She could scarcely make out the shape of anything. The screwdriver fell to the floor with a soft clatter.

The next thing she knew, she was on the floor bawling, and the agent's arms surrounded her. If she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, she could pretend that it was her mother, assuring her that this was nothing but a bad dream.

So, how was it? I honestly had no idea what would come out of my fingers when I typed this, so let me know what you think. I have a rough idea of where this story is going, but ideas are always welcome!