Psychopathy

Chapter 22- Chalk On The Floor

Isabel looked out at the horizon, her fingers still wet with blood. She looked down at the sobbing damned in front of her, before sighing. Her job was done. She concentrated as hard as she could, and imagined her throne. Imagined being transported there. But when she opened her eyes, she was still frustratingly in the same place. She still hadn't been able to master the art of teleportation. Soon. But not yet.

With a huff, she turned from the damned and started the trek back to her throne. After having her movement restricted for so long by that damn shackle, it was nice to be able to roam as she pleased. Well, almost as she pleased. She still had the devil to answer to. As she finally approached, she saw the devil splayed on his throne. When he heard her footsteps, he looked over at her, a smile spreading across his face.

For a second, she felt something inside tugging her, trying to draw her closer to him. For a second, she thought about heeding its call. He'd been... well, pleasant wasn't the right word for it. Amicable, maybe? Ever since she decided to take up the mantle and perform her duties as queen, he hadn't hurt her. Not the way he used to, anyway. Sure, it still hurt when he forced himself on her, but not as much as it used to. Maybe she was actually starting to enjoy it like he'd predicted she would.

No, that couldn't be true. Because if it was, she may give up on fighting, and if she did that, she'd never see her friends again. And she needed to see her friends again. She needed to clarify the images of them in her head that were becoming fuzzier the longer she was there. She had to rectify the situation. But how? She didn't have enough power yet to break out herself, so how could she...?

Hmm. Yes. That might work.

After only seeing the devil for a second, she made some lousy excuse as to why she needed to leave. Still, though, he believed her, and waved her off, demanding that she return shortly. She accepted this and ran off towards the lake. The lake would show her friends, and the fuzzy images would become clear. And then she would remember what she was fighting for.

She saw the water clear before she even reached the shores. She wondered if she had done that unconsciously, or if the lake had just learned to recognize her presence and was accommodating her of its own accord. She didn't really care at the moment. She was too desperate to care. She dropped to her knees in the obsidian sand and reached out towards the water, willing it to show her a vision of her friends.

But nothing came.

She focused harder. Maybe it wasn't showing her because she couldn't picture them clearly enough for it to know what to show her. So instead, she focused her thoughts on everything she did remember about them. Their voices. Memories she shared with them. Little fun facts she knew about them. Although, to be honest, there wasn't much to remember. Even all of those things were becoming blurred and jumbled.

Finally, a fuzzy picture began to appear in the water. But even then, it shattered after only a few seconds. It hadn't even been long enough or clear enough for her to know exactly who she had seen. She sighed, dropping her head into her hands. Even the lake, her only ally in this place, couldn't help her now. She knew what that meant.

She was too far gone.

Maybe it was time for her to give up the fight, once and for all.

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Reid's fingers were fidgeting anxiously as he entered the bullpen. He would have pulled out Ciara's necklace, but he had a feeling that if he did, he'd twist it so much that the chain broke. He didn't know how strong the chain was or if he really could break it, but he wasn't about to find out. He couldn't return a broken necklace to Ciara. He just couldn't. But he needed to do something with his fidgeting fingers. If he couldn't find something to distract himself, his anxiety would probably drive him mad.