12:50pm (GMT8)
Amelia had many thoughts raising through her mind throughout the day. Looking back to when she had first started to work within the B.A.U, to now.. She realized how unaffected by death she had become. Whether it be a small child, an old woman or man, even a poor helpless infant. The sights before her, she felt numb to them. She remembers the vivid memory of her first case, even the sight of the dead body caused her to vomit. She was purely weak at that time, and could not even stomach the thought of blood; Or the sight of it.
Now here she stands, yellow and black tape around the scene of chaos. Flashing lights of police cars, and shuffling of feet away from the scene. The eyes prying at the scene always made her wonder why someone losing their life...Was such a spectacle. Another dead body, another wild being on the loose. Another location to close off, to stain with the blood of innocence. Another vile cause to the crime, and yet it felt like second nature. Who better than her to get justice for the victim's families?
She looks around, holding her briefcase in one hand by her side. Her eyes scanning the scene, before they lay on her team. Her four agents, loyal to her. All were busy doing their job, as Amelia walked over to meet them. She clears her throat, grabbing the attention of her followers; Placing her brown briefcase onto the ground.
"Agent Wlison, gloves please." Amelia's tone is strict, and almost as cold as always. Outside of her work, she tried to give somewhat of a light tone..Yet here, her voice avoided any emotions. What purpose would there be to be happy with lifeless bodies piling up?
Agent Wilson obliges and hands her boss two blue gloves. Amelia looks at her agent in front of her. Her full name, Beth Wilson was older than her; Twenty five. She had bright radiating blue hair, and glossy green mixed eyes. Beth was shorter than Amelia and stared in awe at her. Beth was dressed in all black, with a hair tie holding back her long hair.
Amelia pauses for a brief moment, before lightly taking the gloves from Beth, She puts her hand to her mouth, biting on the end of her fingertip. She had worn gloves that day, leather in which she pulled with her teeth. One hand off, she quickly removes the other. Then slipping on the latex gloves.
Her attention switches to another agent, a male. The tall male, was Zacakry Linch; Twenty eight years old. He was holding a camera up to his face, pointed towards parts of the scene. The flash was almost blinding.
"Agent Linch, what do we have on the scene. I didn't get any notice of the severity."
His gaze points towards her, not shocked by the rupture in her voice. They were all used to the way she presented herself. They never bothered to ask her why, and she was glad it stayed that way.
"Woman about twenty four years old, assumingly. Though that will not be determined until we can get some fingerprints, or any record."
Amelia raises an eyebrow, "Did the body get taken to the morgue before you arrived on scene?"
Zackary nods towards her, walking up to her with a camera in both hands.
"They let me get photographs of her injuries, and her body as a whole. You're going to be shocked with this one, Agent Reston." He sets himself directly next to her, towering over her side. Zackary lowers the camera to her height, Amelia taking the camera in her gloved hands.
Her eyes widened, Zackary was right. This one, shocked her.
[MENTIONS OF GORE BELOW.]
The body was indeed a woman's, however her entire head was missing. It looks as it was done by a person who knew doctoral procedures, or had a background towards it. The head was completely gone and the neck was a wide open hole. As Amelia flipped through the photos, the injuries continued to worsen. Cuts vertically down the victim's arms, her stomach slashed open from side to side.
If the cuts or slashing of her stomach came first, she would have died very quickly due to blood loss. She had just hoped, the decapitation was after the girl was already gone.
Amelia looks back up at Zackary, handing the camera back to him. Her emotions read to others as this did not phase her, yet she could not help but feel awful. She would usually feel nothing, do her job as she had to. Be grateful she would not in their position, but this one.
Something felt different, felt wrong.
"Agent Ontario," Amelia looks towards her other agent. A blonde haired woman, named Kaitlyn Ontario; Twenty four years old. The woman was examining the stain and fresh blood under her; crotched down to get samples. Kaitlyn waits for her next direction, silently.
"Where was the head of the body?" Amelia asks calmly,
Kaitlyn pauses for a moment, "There was no head. The head was completely missing when early responders arrived."
Amelia puts her finger to the corner of her mouth, "No head, this 'Unsub' must have kept it..Or disposed of it away from the body." She steps forward, her shoes clicking against the ground. Her eyes flicker around the scene, nothing she had never seen before. Blood, vomit, urine, you name it. She stops at a wall, where blood splatter is evident.
[END OF MENTIONED GORE.]
Lifting her hand, she trials her fingers down the side of the wall. Turning her hand around to face her, the blood was still liquid; not dry.
"How long do you say the body's been here?" Amelia's head swings to look at her fourth agent; Ellis Lanton. A red haired woman at the age of twenty seven. She was dressed in a pair of khakis, and a button up white tee short. She was average height, a few inches taller than Amelia herself. Ellis was Amelia's most trusted agent; She knew how to ask and more importantly do her job.
"Not long, we may have caught this one fairly early. If we had arrived an hour later, it would have been dry."
"So you're saying we barely missed the killer?" Ellis steps next to Amelia, looking now at the dripping blood stained wall.
"It appears so..It's quite good it was called in so fast." Amelia looks towards Ellis,
"Is there any more blood in the area?" Ellis nods towards Amelia, simply turning her back to her and walking in another direction. Amelia follows, quietly scanning her eyes on the scene. She had seen a lot of blood before, but this attack was gorey. It was as if the killer did not even wish to stop. They may have kept going, if not so open in the area.
"Here boss, see for yourself." Ellis speaks out, Amelia turns her head back to the front.
Her heart stopped. For the first time, a crime scene made her stomach turn.
The brick was splattered with blood, dripping down onto the ground underneath it. Yet, the blood was not just everywhere, it was smeared in letters.
"Do you know what it could mean, Agent Reston?" Amelia could hear Ellis through her ears, however could not even move. Let alone speak, her whole mind ran rampant. The words on the wall, put the little frightened girl right back inside of her.
'Shortie' was sprawled in bloody letters, dripping in someone else's blood. Shortie, the word she never thought she'd see or hear again. A word that once meant endearment, love turned ugly. Turned into death, and despair.
He used to call me 'Shortie' her thoughts echoed, but there was no way. The man could not have written this. Her thoughts were jumping to most unrealistic conclusions. There was absolutely no way. She made sure to aim close to kill him, to rid the world of him once and for all.
Yet, the mere thought scared her to her core. Could she have left that warehouse too soon? Did he survive, and decided to come back for revenge.
No, she thought to herself. It's to get a rise out of her, this is an everyday occurrence. There was no connection to her, to her past.
She was free of that, as much as she was able to be.
Amelia shook her head, trying to block out the emotions she was feeling inside of her. She could not let what she was feeling inside, bleed through to the surface. Nothing good would come of it.
She clears her throat, "I don't, although it could be a message to..The agency." She could feel herself sweating, or was it the fear that was arising throughout her body? There had to be a responsible explanation to this message, yet her skills could not understand what. The longer she stared at the wall, the more she felt her body temperature rise. She had to leave, excuse herself in some way.
"Are you alright..Boss?" Amelia could feel Ellis' stare on the side of her face, yet she did not bother to look towards her. She couldn't, it would show clear emotion on her face. That she was in mere panic over one simple word, she could not let that be seen.
"I have to excuse myself, Agent Lanton." She turns to face Ellis, somewhat composing her inner thoughts to address her follower. Amelia could feel Ellis' eyes examining her, trying to figure out a clear understanding of her sudden need for absence.
"Please, make sure Agent Linch gets those photographs for me. I will need them for the file." Ellis says nothing to her, only nodding. Amelia turns away from her, heading back to the entrance of the scene. Her heart was now practically thudding out of her chest.
He's back, he's here. He's come back for me.
She lifts the crime scene tape up, as the police officers around her settle down the crowd continue to form on the other side of the tape. She ignores the screams for answers, and pulls her car keys out of her coat pocket. Clicking the button, it unlocks the doors and she steps inside of the driver's side. She slams the door behind her, putting the key into the slot to start the engine.
She had to get home, to tell Dallas of what she had witnessed. Maybe he would be able to calm her down, she thought.
2:00pm (GMT8)
Amelia enters her home in a rush, throwing her coat onto the coat rack at the door. She slams the door behind her shut, quickly grabbing her phone out of her back pants pocket. She looks down at the phone in her hand, quickly clicking on contacts: She presses on Dallas'. As the phone rings, once; She makes it into the living room. At two rings, she sits down onto the ground, her knees pulled up to her chest. She could feel her own heartbeat against her legs, it would not give up.
Three rings, her heart clenches. She could not hold onto the information she had, she felt she was going to explode. Burst at the moment of impact, yet the fourth ring came.
Then, a click. She perks up,
"Hi, you've reached Detective Linch. I am currently on the job right now." It was merely his voicemail, her heart sank within her.
"--Leave your name and number and I'll get back to you." She sat in silence, to hear the beep. Amelia takes a deep breath.
"God damn it Dallas!" She curses under her breath, the one time she needed him to answer he was nowhere to be heard from. She rubs her fingers in between her eyes, feeling the pressure building. Not just between her eyes, but through her entire body.
"Look, I can't wait to tell you this when you get home. So when you're out just listen." Another pause, could she even bear to say it? How could she say something she had hoped to never let escape her lips.
The pain, it felt as if she could see the moments throughout her life where there was nothing but that pain, that agony. Amelia sucks the air in through her teeth,
"I was at a case today and I think..I think he's alive." Dallas would not want to hear something like this, she thought. She couldn't hide something like this from him, though. She trusted him with it, he saw her experience it.
"I thought I got rid of him Dallas, I wanted to move on with my life." Amelia sighs, placing her elbow on the coffee table next to her. She felt tense, the feeling of tension all over her. She chuckles to herself, shaking her head.
"I may be imagining things, but I never go against my hunches. You taught me that." She leans back more, to support the weight of herself onto the table.
"We'll talk when you get home. I love you, bye." With that, she presses to end the call. That message did not make her feel any better. She felt the words crawling up her throat. Would anyone believe her if her instinct was correct?
Yet, she shot him. He was not alive, he laid still before her. Amelia pulls the phone down in her hand, over one of her knees. A frown was stretched over her face as she stared at her phone screen. There had to be someone who she could confide in, that she could spew her bizarre tale to that would take it seriously.
She pauses, her father she thought. Her father would consider the possibility of it. She clicks on her fathers contact, putting the phone to her ear.
One ring, and then a click. She could hear shuffling on the other end of the line, her dad always answered her phone calls right away. She breathes through her nose, then sighing a breath of relief.
"Dad, hey."
"Ah, Amelia! I haven't heard from you for a few days. How are you?" Her father was always calling her throughout the week. Even though she was growing older, he always treated her as his little girl. It made her feel warm, and safe; Her father always knew what to say to her.
"Can you meet me at the coffee shop near my house, ten minutes?" Her tone was very light, easy to tell that she was calm around her father. Even hearing his voice made her heart beat pacen. He was her father after all, she was supposed to feel calm around him.
"Oh, sure honey. Is there something wrong?" She could hear the worry in his voice. Of course he was worried, she thought. Calling so abruptly to ask to meet him, any father would be afraid that something was happening with their child.
"Just.." She pauses, looking down at her free hand.
"I need to talk to you. I'll text you when I'm there." She doesn't want to give her reasoning over the phone, she wants to tell him in person. She wants to hear what he has to say, and hopes it will put her mind at ease. Amelia wants him to tell her she's being paranoid, to be sworn over by bliss and ignorance. Not let the ideas swirling in her mind, be true.
Her father can be heard clearing his throat, "Alright, bye."
With a second later, she clicks to end the call. Putting her hand with her phone to her side. She needed a moment, just to pause. The day started off like every other, and yet had turned to something else so quickly. She wanted to get rid of the thoughts popping into her head as fast as possible, debunk her theories.
Amelia sighs, her head dropping down in her lap. The mere thoughts were tiring, more tiring than the work she had done for years now. She was fearful, yet in doubt. She wanted the doubts to be correct, she was nothing more than paranoid.