captive - spencer reid

warning: violence, SA (not descriptive) and kidnap

one

adira

adira put her arms outstretched. He tugged on the rope once more, tightly - too tightly, staring into her silent eyes with his cold, inhumane ones. She grunted quietly, knowing better than to make a noise of protest, her eye-line shifted slightly to the left of his face - focusing on her usual boring dent in the wooden slat on the wall until it blurred from her pretend concentration. He tugged on her arm and roughly pulled her up. She wasn't fighting. 

"How's your knee?" His gruff, emotionless voice broke through the silence. She knew she had given up when the silences were no longer uncomfortable nor fearful. 

Her eyes quickly gazed down to her knees. It still didn't look the right shape. The darkening bruises stared back at her, though the one he was referring to specifically was difficult to distinguish. Her body painted in differing colours of bruises like a decaying canvas - she felt her variation of injuries reflected her emotional state perfectly. 

Her eye-line remained just below his. 

"It's better. Thank you." Her voice was firm but gentle so as to hope he wouldn't perceive her tone as sarcastic or rude or ungrateful. Because he wanted her to be grateful, after all - as he told her repeatedly, "I am sacrificing a lot for you.". 

"I know," she would always reply kindly. "It's so generous of you".

She had made the mistake of shouting back to him when he had reminded her of this once. 

"Sacrificing what! I had to sacrifice my life! No. That's not fair actually because sacrifice implies that I had a choice. You took everything from me. You don't give up anything! You should've killed me, I wish you would fucking kill me." She had screamed, quite literally. A painful scream, a kind you screamed until your throat was sore. Her voice broke as the tears of frustration, anguish and exhaustion began to shed. "Why the fuck are you keeping me here, huh? It's been six months - what the fuck could you possibly need with a person to keep them for six months! Either kill me or let me go!"

She gasped as the wind was knocked out of her. The room felt like it was echoing in her mind. Her back pressed up against the cold and damp walls. 

"Listen here, kid. Do you have any idea how much you fucking cost? Do I keep you warm?"

When she didn't reply he picked her up, just slightly, and hit her against the wall again - she gasped involuntarily. 

"I asked you a fucking question! Do I keep you warm?" He screamed. 

"Yes." She answered quickly and loudly.

"Do I feed you?"

"Yes."

"Do you have a roof over your head?"

"Yes."

"Do you have clothes, a bathroom, and all things necessary? Yes you do." His voice had dropped dramatically in volume. He sounded normal, almost passably sane. She could only imagine this is what he sounded like to everyone else outside. "And that shit all costs money. I gotta pay for that shit. So, the next time you feel like complaining or being the ungrateful bitch you are, remember just how quickly I can make that demand of yours, fulfilled. Okay?"

The bruises didn't fade from that day for weeks. 

She was never ungrateful again.

She shivered from the memory as she stared at her knees.