A/N: So that's chapter three. It is kinda dark and it shall be gripping. I hope I got it right... As always, enjoy reading. Italics are thoughts and flashbacks.

Chapter three: Márisa Sanchez

Slowly, she opened her eyes. One by one, letting them adjust to the gloomy twilight around her. She grasped her left wrist so hard that the knuckles on her right hand turned white. The tension in her was unbearable.

She moved her head a little to the side and her waist-long brunette hair cascaded over her shoulder down her back. She felt the fear that was growing inside her while her coffee-brown orbs scanned her surroundings. She had no idea where she was. She laid on a carpet in a small room without any furniture in it but next to what seemed like a metal door were a pillow and a blanket. She contemplated if she should get them but her fear paralysed her and she couldn't get herself to actually make a move.

Suddenly she heard a noise right outside of her cell. The fear turned into panic that threatened to overwhelm her. Oh my god, they are coming, they're coming.

The door opened slowly and a light bulb on the ceiling brightened the room. She felt as if she couldn't breathe anymore, she would suffocate, like her fear swallowed her whole being.

Slowly, her world faded out at the edges. Turned black. And she passed out on the floor.

When she woke up several hours later, she was still in the same room. Someone had left a bottle of water and something she could make out as bread. She felt dizzy and sick as she became more aware of her surroundings. Her thoughts were running wild inside her brain and she wasn't sure if she would be able to catch a single one as she suddenly focused on the most important one of all.

Manolo. Where was her little boy? Furiously she tried to remember the last time she had seen him, but the last weeks blurred as soon as she wanted to hold on a thought. Memories flowed her thinking like pictures from another one's life.

Her watching a man taking Manolo from her. Crying, screaming, yelling, at first at the man, later, when they were gone, just to destroy the nightmarish silence that preyed upon her conscience.

She felt as if she had abandoned her little boy and she would do everything to get him back.

She stared at the body. At the limp, bloody, lifeless body.

She was shocked. Couldn't think straight. Felt like she should scream. For help. For the police. But she was as guilty as the man's murderer next to her. They would put her in jail. She would never see Manolo again. She would rot in hell. And there was nothing she could do.

A sharp pain brought her back to reality. He had grasped her wrist hard, forming the next day's bruises. He pulled her against him. Then pushed her in the direction of his car.

"Go! Or don't you want to see your son again?" He gave her a devilish smirk.

She stumbled to the car, opened the door, looked down at her hands. She saw the blood on them. And then, finally, she screamed.

He hit her, slapped her, again and again, until she eventually stopped to cry.

"Please, I need my boy. I need my baby boy. I can't go on, I just cannot. Please."

The next day, he made her go to an internet café near Anacostia Park to send the picture of the dead Staff Sergeant to his own e-mail account. As she had to look at the body again, a wave of nausea almost overwhelmed her. The picture of her bloody hands already haunted her, why did she have to look at this one?

Absentminded she sent the e-mail, tried to focus on everything around her while she wanted to forget the feeling of him pulling her against him, of her hands on his blood stained t-shirt.

She paid, left, and ran back to him, wanted everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours to fade out. She hoped she would see her son again.

Instead she was locked up in a cell with little food and less sleep. And her fear grew bigger by the second.

She had been locked up in the room for what felt like an eternity. She had been counting her meals so she thought it had actually been not more than two weeks since she watched her captor killing another man, but she couldn't be sure. They had given her a letter from her son after a few days and she held on to it like a lifeline.

She was deep in her thoughts as the door to her cell opened once again. The sudden brightness startled her and she couldn't make out more than shadows against the light.

"Márisa!" The harsh shout sent a shiver down her spine and let her dark orbs widening in fear.

"Yes?" she asked shyly.

"Come here. We are going on a little trip, what do you think?" His devilish smirk let her blood run cold.

Would she be next? Had he decided that she knew too much? That she was too much of a liability? He was a psychopath, that much she knew for sure.

He tied her hands behind her back, then he drove them to a forest outside of DC. She prayed the whole ride long to all saints she knew. Márisa Sanchez was catholic, had been since her earliest childhood memories, but she couldn't remember one single time when she had prayed like this.

As the car came to a sudden halt in a desert area, she had to get out of the car and go to a clearing with several bushes. He forced her to approach and to distract the marine waiting there. It seemed so surreal as she watched him coming nearer from behind. When he stood about five feet away from him, he raised his arm slowly. As if he had all time in the world. He pulled the trigger and it seemed to her as if everything happened in slow motion. She heard the shot so incredible, incredible loud. She watched the bullet fly, saw as the Staff Sergeant dropped to the ground. He broke every single bone of the dead man's right hand. Then he smeared red ink on his forehead and put a black tie around his neck. She began to cry while he was taking photos of the staged body. She formed a fist out of her hand and bit down on it, hard, but uncontrollable sobs escaped from her mouth nonetheless. She couldn't take it anymore, it was just too much for her.

She collapsed to the ground, hot salty tears still streaming down her face.

The next day, he made her go to an internet café on L Street.

A/N 2: So that was a short one and not really JIBBS-ish, but it was quite necessary for the crime part of the story. But there will be lots of JIBBS and the team in the next chapter.

Could anybody please leave a review?