#me internally: *please let this do well i spent fifteen minutes writing the description*

[queen-boudicca]

I would once more like to celebrate the most tense and rewarding scene in cinematic history.

(description under the cut—it's a long one)

A video of people in a zoom meeting setting up an impressive cooperative rube goldberg machine.

The screen is filled with the boxes of 16 different people, and Rachel (in the upper left) yells "Fuck you, Lou, okay, you're being such a dick!" She bumps into her camera and then looks behind her, and looks to the camera, frantic, saying "Oh shit, I think I started it!"

Ian says "wait, what?" While Lou yells "go, go go!" Everyone gets out of their seats and prepares to enact their part of the rube goldberg machine. In the upper left, a slinky slides down a stack of cans and knocks over a toilet paper roll, which slides into the next screen, and knocks over a lemon which rolls to the next screen and triggers a water cooler to fill a cup and unwind a ball from a post.

The ball hits a ping pong ball which then flies across into the next screen and gets stuck to a pencil, triggering a different ball to roll through a set of books with playing cards stopping it from falling off the sides. Jo laughs in excitement at the success. The ball turns into a soccer ball when it reaches the screen below it, and knocks over a set of drying dishes.

The dishes knock over a ball which hits a fan which sends a sailboat floating across a pan full of water and pushes a ball into the next screen. That ball goes down a slide, and Ian says "Holy shit, it's working!" The ball goes to another screen and hits a stack of pool balls, which fall across a table that has nails hammered into it to separate the balls.

Those balls reach the bottom of the screen, and in the next screen a ball falls into a slide that drops it into a cup on a wheel, which overbalances and pours coffee into a cup and knocks a ball rolling into the next screen. A ball on the next screen starts falling through an impressive array of blocks on a board , heading to the next screen over which is black. Dana asks "Wait, where's CW?"

The rest of the cast also start asking where he is, and tension builds as the ball starts knocking over a line of dominos, getting closer and closer to the black screen. Right as the dominos end, the screen comes to life and a globe rolls across the desk in front of CW, who yells "Huzzah!"

The rest of the people yell in delight and the globe continues into the next screen, falling into the one below where it turns into a bunch of ping pong balls that fall all over Jo.

In the next screen, a ball slides down a springboard and ricochets into the next screen, where a soccer ball shoots across some grass and triggers a line of flags that swing around, and a glitter explosion. Umbrellas fly across the screen and one falls into the last screen, where it knocks over a bag of chips.

Dana reaches into the bag, and eats a chip triumphantly. The whole group of people yell in jubilation and celebrate, and CW yells "fuck you, coronavirus!"

[spencersstrawberryjello]

Potential Lead (Chapter Two)

Chapter Two - You Might Be Right

Previous Chapter < - > Next Chapter

Summary: After a four am call with Spencer, Lex rushes into the local police station to help him out with the case. 

Warnings: Descriptions of graphic violence!!, swearing, mentions of the Tobias Hankel case (season two), and brief mentions of psychotic breaks and mental instability

Word Count: 3433

A/N: Here’s a link to the crime scene diagram that I drew up! (CW: More descriptions of violence, as well as a visual depiction of a map of a crime scene - no actual blood or gore, just red pen and a house floor-plan). On the side I wrote out some further information on cause of death that wasn’t mentioned in the chapter.

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I planned to call Dr. Spencer Reid in the morning to get an update on the case. He said they were speaking with Brian, and I was far too invested in what that scumbag had to say for himself.

What I hadn’t planned for, though, was to receive a call from the very same Dr. Spencer Reid, around four in the morning.

“Lex? Are you up?”

“What the fuck - Dr. Reid? What time is it?”

“Like four or something, I don’t know; listen, I’m sorry to wake you, but I think you might be right.”

“As much as I love to hear that, I’m gonna need you to be more specific.”

“Right about Brian, about your sister, the murder, all of it. I think you might be right.”

“Well shit.” I was fully awake now, sitting up in my bed as I’m sure he paced in front of a whiteboard somewhere downtown.

“Can you come in? Like, to the police station.”

“Now? Dr. Reid, you are aware that it’s four in the morning?”

“Lex, please just call me Spencer. And I know, I know and I’m sorry, but you’re our best lead on this so far. You saw what your sister’s marriage did to the both of you, and you know what you’re talking about. Like I said, I think you’re right. But we need to prove it.”

“What does the rest of your team think about this?” As much as I was already dying to jump back into this mystery, I really didn’t want the wrath of the FBI on my ass.

“They’re at the hotel right now, I couldn’t sleep - I’ll explain everything to them in the morning, but right now I need your help.”

“Spencer… why is this so urgent? What aren’t you telling me?”

“We had to let Brian go.”

“What? That douchebag killed someone and you let him leave?”

“We didn’t have any cause to keep him in holding! We have to let people go after 24 hours -”

“I know how the criminal justice system works, Spencer. Do you think there’s a chance he’ll kill again?”

“I - there’s a chance. Based on some stuff we found at the crime scene -”

That was all I needed to hear. If there was a chance this asshole could kill someone else, I wasn’t going to go back to sleep. “Fucking hell - I’m on my way.”

As much as my exhausted body protested, I practically jumped out of bed, pulling on a t-shirt and some jean shorts before grabbing a jacket and gym shoes and heading out to my car. It was pitch black outside, the streets of Tallahassee surprisingly quiet for a Saturday night. The hot air hit me the second I left my building, and I internally groaned, speeding up my walk to my car so I could reach the safety of the air conditioning.

I sped out of the parking lot, air conditioning cranked despite the lack of sunlight outside. There was a little voice in the back of my head telling me that I should’ve spent more time on this outfit, or put on a bit of makeup, but I pushed it away, filling my head with thoughts of the case instead. Spencer wouldn’t care if I looked a little bedraggled.

Not that I cared what Spencer thought, of course.

The police station was about twenty minutes from my apartment complex, but I got there in fifteen, swinging into the parking lot and shutting off my car before making my way to the front door. I considered knocking, but I wasn’t sure who else was working this late. So I opted to text Spencer instead.

I still had his number from when he called me earlier, and I shot him a quick text to let him know I was here. No less than a minute later, he was at the front door, opening it up to allow me inside.

“Hey - I’m sorry about this, I really shouldn’t have called you so late. Honestly, if you want to go home, I’d understand; I don’t know what I was thinking, there’s no reason to make you -”

“Spencer. You didn’t ‘make me’ do anything. Trust me, if I didn’t want to help, I would’ve told you as much. I’m not one for secrets.”

He smiled a bit, and I offered him a reassuring one back. “Well, I’m still sorry,” He said, “But the case information is all in here. Follow me.”

He led me back through the main hallway that Penelope Garcia had walked me down yesterday, but instead of turning right at the fork to go to the interrogation rooms, he went left, leading me to a series of empty conference rooms. One of them had multiple large rolling whiteboards up against the farthest wall, most of which were covered in pictures and writing. That was the room that he walked towards, before he turned and blocked me from getting through the doorway.

“Ok. So, I know that you know your sister is dead. And I know you know she was most likely murdered by her husband. But… you haven’t seen the crime scene. You haven’t seen exactly why we were called in. We don’t just get called in for regular homicides. There has to be a specific behavioral element, something that would make the local police believe they’d have more luck solving the case if they had a profile on the killer.”

I knew a bit about criminal justice, and behavioral science, from a couple classes I took my senior year of college. But I didn’t know much about the BAU, and the dead serious look on Spencer’s face was making me uneasy.

“So what you’re saying is… this isn’t gonna be pretty.”

“In layman’s terms, yes, this isn’t gonna be pretty. So I want to make absolutely sure that you want to help, that you’re ok with seeing stuff like that. That you’re ok with seeing your sister like that.”

Yes, I fucking hated my sister. But I was still hesitant to enter that room. Spencer could tell, because he followed up with.

“If you’re not comfortable with that, if you’d rather not have those images in your head, you can go home right now and forget I ever called you in here. We’ll update you on the results of the case, and you don’t have to be involved. It’s up to you.”

I shook my head. As hesitant as I was, there was no way I could leave now. I was far too invested. “No, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? 100%?”

“Yes, Spencer. I’ll be ok.”

“Ok.” He nodded, turning around and heading into the room, making a beeline for the boards. I followed him, trying to figure out what could possibly be so bad that he would need to give me that kind of warning.

Now, I consider myself to be a pretty tough person. There wasn’t a lot that could phase me, I generally took a ‘go with the flow,’ nonchalant approach to life. But when I saw the crime scene pictures stuck to that board, I felt my face pale.

“Holy… fuck - you really think Brian is capable of this? I mean, he’s a dick, and I can fully believe he’s capable of murder, but… god -”

The pictures in front of me depicted a brutal scene… honestly, I’d never seen anything like it. They centered around one image: my sister, dead, on the kitchen floor. Her body was slumped up against the island, blood pooling around her. The other pictures also showed most of the blood spattered on the lower cabinets across from her body, but it was still pretty much everywhere around her. She appeared to have been stabbed multiple times, and yet, despite all the blood, there wasn’t a single fingerprint, footprint, hair - nothing that could point to the murderer. Nothing that I could see in the pictures, at least. I felt my heart start to pick up as I studied the scene, and I turned away, steadying my breathing and trying to fight back unexpected tears that pricked the corners of my eyes. When I glanced over at Spencer though, he wasn’t even looking at me. He was reading a file in front of him, responding to my question as he read.

“Well, I know that our prevailing theory is that he killed her in a fit of rage. But based on the overkill at the crime scene, I feel like something inside him might’ve snapped when he committed the murder.”

I regained control of my breathing enough to ask, “Like, a psychotic break?”

“Something like that, yeah. Which is why I’m so concerned. With this level of brutality, there’s a high probability that he’s already mentally devolving, and he could potentially go on to target other women who haven’t been able to follow through with their pregnancies.” He put the file down and finally turned to look at me, noticing my expression as I steadied myself on one of the conference table chairs.

“Lex, are you ok?”

“I’m fine. It’s just more gruesome than I expected it to be. I’ll be ok,” I insisted when his face fell, “It just caught me off guard.”

“I know, that’s why I warned you - are you sure you’re alright? Do you want… a hug? Or water, or something? I don’t know -”

I smiled a bit, my heart warming against my will at his concern. But my mind quickly dipped back into a territory that was a familiar distraction, and I smirked.

“As much as I’d love your hands on my body, I think I’ll have to take you up on that offer another time.”

He blushed, and I laughed, taking in a deep breath before returning my attention to the pictures on the board.

“Ok. So, what all do I need to know? Like, what’s going on here? Because from what I can tell, she was stabbed, and this guy - assuming it’s Brian, of course - fucking knows what he’s doing. No fingerprints, footprints, anything?”

“Nothing. The CSI team searched the entire house. The only noteworthy thing that we found were trace amounts of the victim - Sarah, sorry - her blood in the bathroom sink, in the bathroom across the hall from the kitchen. But there’s nothing at the crime scene that can directly connect the crime to anyone specific.”

“So how the hell are we going to prove it’s him?”

“Well, we always try to come into every case with no suspects in mind, so that it doesn’t impact our profile at all. Brian was the police’s prime suspect, he has been since the beginning - the husband almost always is, in these scenarios, unless they have a really good alibi - and I think he looks good for it now, but we didn’t know that when writing this.”

He handed me the file he’d been reading, open to a page that was a written account of their original profile.

“This is where I feel like you can help us most; I mean, you met Brian, didn’t you? Like, you attended their wedding, at the very least?”

“I met him a grand total of one time, at the wedding. I wasn’t in the wedding party, but I met him when I was talking to Sarah. He pretty much avoided me the whole time, which in retrospect, should’ve been a red flag, but I guess I didn’t really notice. When I did talk to him though, he was really rude. Like, he’d give me curt, one word answers, and then directly after disengaging from conversation with me, he’d turn around and start whispering to some of his buddies that were in the wedding party - the best man and all that shit - and gestured towards me. I still have no idea what he was saying, honestly.”

“Perfect - I mean, not perfect that he treated you like that, of course, that’s awful, and I’m sorry; I said ‘perfect’ because it means you can confirm that he matches up with the profile behaviorally. My mind kind of jumped ahead -”

“Spence, calm down. I understood what you meant.”

I felt a blush creep up the back of my neck at the accidental nickname, and I saw the same thing happen to him as we both came to an unspoken agreement to ignore it.

“Right. Ok. Um, anyway, would you mind reading over the profile and seeing if you think it sounds like a good description of him? Since you have the most experience with him outside of an interrogation room.”

I agreed, turning my direction to the profile I had in my hands.

The unsub is most likely male, and based on the overkill at the crime scene, most likely someone with a personal connection to the victim. Based on the disorganized nature of the kill, he is probably younger - late teens to early twenties - and has probably never killed before. However, there is a high probability that he is someone with deep rooted anger issues, and that may have caused him some problems in his life before this. He may have a history of issues at work or school from lashing out over small frustrations, and it’s most likely gotten him in trouble throughout his lifetime. Sarah was small, so it wouldn’t be hard to overpower her, but based on the blood spatter patterns, we do know that the unsub is right-handed, and slightly taller than the victim.

I skimmed the rest of the paper - which just contained concluding notes and instructions for local police - before looking back up at Spencer, who was staring at me as I read.

“It definitely sounds like him. I mean, based on what I know about him at least. Like I said, he generally avoided me - though there was this one time when they first started dating, before Sarah cut me off entirely,” The memory came rushing back to me, and I was shocked I hadn’t thought of it sooner, “I had already gone to my room for the night when I heard her return from a date with him. She was crying. I was going to go ask her what was wrong, but my mom beat me to it, seeing as both of my parents were in the living room watching TV when she got back. I heard her telling them that her and Brian had gotten into an argument. I can’t remember what they were arguing about, but the gist of it was that it was something completely ridiculous. And yet, she was crying like he had really hurt her. My parents were consoling her, so I just went back to bed, but honestly it sounds like he could’ve been aggressive, and that’s why she was so upset - I don’t know anything for sure, I only know what I overheard. But it would make sense.”

“But you’re immediately making assumptions to make him fit the profile; that’s exactly why we don’t go into cases with any suspects in mind. It’s an interesting conversation, and I’m happy you remembered it, but we can’t assume he was being aggressive just because your sister was upset.”

“That’s true… so where does that leave us?” I plopped down in one of the chairs, throwing my feet up on the table and laughing when Spencer gave my action the same look of disgust that he did when I put my feet up in the interrogation room.

“Do you think that he fits the profile?” He asked. I nodded.

“The age is a bit off - he’s 27, so it’s more late than early twenties - but everything else fits what I know about him perfectly.”

“Age is the hardest thing to profile, so it would make sense if that’s a little bit off.”

“So you really think he killed Sarah?”

“I mean, all signs point to him - I feel like we at least need to find a way to keep tabs on him. If he is the killer, then he’s devolving. Despite the lack of evidence at the crime scene, the crime itself would still be classified as disorganized, and disorganized crime scenes usually point to the unsub being more unpredictable, unstable. Like I said, I think he might’ve snapped when he killed your sister. Which means that other people could be in danger.”

“Well if people are in danger, then why don’t you tell the police chief or something? We need to get Brian back in here, or at the very least we need to get someone to stay up to date on his location. I don’t know what you guys have jurisdiction to do.”

“I’m not sure we’re going to be able to get him back in here without any actual forensic evidence… I’m calling Hotch right now. Give me a second - hey Hotch,” He had his phone up to his ear, and he filled Hotch in on his thoughts about the case. He paused his profiling for a minute to defend why he was still awake and working, but after about five minutes he hung up the call, turning back to me.

“The team’s on their way.”

“And they know I’m here?” I had heard him tell Hotch that I was, but I wasn’t sure if he was going to tell everyone else.

“Yes; I’m assuming Hotch will fill them in, at least. Your confirmation of the profile is what made him agree to come in - having Brian as a confirmed prime suspect gives us grounds to move forward.”

I nodded my understanding before asking, “When do you think they’ll be here?”

“The hotel they’re staying at is only about five minutes away - we always try to stay in hotels near the police stations in the cities that we’re staying in, that way we’re able to move quickly if we need to. I mean, there was one time where the team stayed directly at the unsub’s house, but that was an… exception.” His face slowly fell as he finished the sentence, almost as if he regretted saying it, but I was too intrigued to wonder why.

“Directly at the unsub’s house? Holy shit - what happened on that case?”

“Well, uh, I actually got kidnapped?” He phrased it like a statement, but the way he said it sounded more like a question. Probably questioning whether or not he should even be telling me this.

“Oh my god, Spencer, I am so sorry.”

“No no it’s fine, it was about two years ago at this point,” He was trying to shut down the conversation, but I’d be lying if I said that finding out that the man in front of me had been kidnapped wasn’t concerning information.

“Two years is not that long… are you ok?”

“I’m fine. I mean, I’ve gotten counseling… there are still days where I - you know what? My traumatic past isn’t important right now. You - you don’t need to be worrying about me; I’m sorry that I brought it up, I was just talking and not processing what I was saying and -”

“Spence.” He was rambling now, his hands moving quickly as he spoke, anxiety clearly clouding his mind. I grabbed his hands to still them, stopping him from speaking. “It’s ok. I asked what happened, you don’t need to worry about me worrying about you. Honestly, I just wanted to make sure that you were alright, that sounds fucking awful.”

“It was.” He looked like he was going to say something else, but he glanced down at my hands holding his, and cleared his throat, a blush coloring his features as he pulled his hands from mine. “It was. But I really am ok now. Trust me.”

“Ok,” I nodded, trying to ignore the way that my heart stung when he practically ripped his hands from mine, “I’m glad.”

He gave me an awkward tight-lipped smile, something I’d noticed him do a lot, and I was about to start another conversation when I heard the conference room door open. Both of our heads snapped in the direction of the sound, and we turned to see the team pouring in through the door.

“Lex Raymond, I assume?” Hotch asked. I rose from my seat, nodding and accepting the handshake he offered me. The rest of the team took seats around the table, and I noticed multiple of them desperately chugging coffee out of disposable paper cups. Someone passed one up to Spencer, who was standing in front of the board still. I took my seat again, and a man sitting near the back of his table leaned back a bit in his chair before addressing Spencer.

“Alright pretty boy, tell us what you got.”

[imagine-all-the-imagines]

“Imagine finding out Casey is alive.”

Warnings: Alcoholism, mentions of death, one mention of taking down a pedophile ring. If I missed any, please let me know. 

Based on this request: “ Anonymous asked: Hi! I have to jump on the Casey wagon here! Maybe Casey had to go into WPP, never had the chance to tell R and they made her fake her death. Maybe after like a year R thinks she saw Casey in manhattan which is ofc crazy but few days later Casey shows up to apologize & explain which is an emotional roller coaster for R but ofc R loves casey? and R also is really close friends with Alex, Liv and Amanda? Maybe after Casey’s “death” R had a lil issue with alcohol? Thank u I love ur blog!!!”

A/N: I am so sorry to end it this way, I will write another part to it I promise! 

I went ahead and made this during the Cragen Era. And I’m sorry I didn’t really mention the others. I just thought that the relationship would be better with Cragen due to shared life experience. I will elaborate on a friendship with Liv and Rollins in the next part!

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You walked into the squad room, sunglasses still over your eyes to try and block out the fluorescent lights shining down on you. You hazard a peek at your watch and internally cursed the device as it showed that you were fifteen minutes late.

As you snuck you your desk, you prayed that the captain wouldn’t catch you. Sitting down, you heard the captain’s door open.

“Detective Y/L/N. Can I see you for a minute?”

You didn’t move.

“Not a suggestion Detective.”

You let out a small groan and got up to head to the office.

As you entered, the captain gestured to the seat in front of his desk. Taking a seat, you looked at your hands, avoiding the look you were sure was fixed in your direction.

“Y/L/N, you planning on taking the glasses off anytime soon?”

You slowly take the glasses off, grimacing as the unfiltered light hit your eyes.

“Sorry Cap, had a rough night last night. Guess it was worse than I thought.” You tried to smile at him, but even you could feel that it wasn’t a true smile.

Your captain looked at you with concern in his eyes. Rummaging through a few cards on his desk, he pulled one out and passed it over to you. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but with the past few months that we’ve all had, it might help to go talk to someone.”

“You offering this to everyone? Or just the ones who come in with a hangover?” You ask.

“Well, when the ones who come in nursing hangovers do so a majority of the week, I figure they could use the support.” The captain gestures for you to take the card and you do.

You had been going to therapy for a over a month now. They had gotten you into AA and had helped you see how the things you had gone through in the past few months weren’t your fault, you could control this. It wasn’t in control of you.

You had cleared all traces of alcohol out of your apartment, even to go so far as to throw out your regular mouth wash and opt for an alcohol free one. It was a rough transition, but your therapist said that it would help remove the temptations. 

You looked at the small chalkboard that you kept in your kitchen, it had a short list of items you needed, and in the top right corner a number. You erased it and and scribbled the number fifty seven in it’s place. You looked at the two chips  you had hanging on the board, silver and red. Your first day and your first month, both big accomplishments. You had asked Captain Cragen to be there when you were given it, he was the one who got you the help, and he had told you of his own struggle with alcoholism. You had made a promise to him, you wouldn’t let it get that bad again. He had told you that you needed to promise that to yourself, not to him. 

________________________________________________________________

You walked into the squad room and went to the captain’s office, knocking before going in. 

“Hey Captain, I just want to let you know, I’m coming up on day sixty here in a couple days. I would like it if you could be there, you know, like last time?”

Captain Cragen gave you a smile, “Of course! I would be honored.” Cragen got up and gave you a handshake and a pat on the back, “I’m very proud of you, Y/L/N, how is it going? your sponsor still helping you out?” 

You nodded, “Yeah, she’s checking in on me, it’s gotten easier, but I’ve had some rough days.” 

Cragen gave you a sympathetic smile, “You can do it, I’m here, and your sponsor, you can always lean on us.” 

You felt yourself getting teary-eyed, “Thanks Cap. It helps knowing I have a support system.” 

“Now, enough of this, we’ve got some cases to work on.” Cragen said, ushering you out of the office to address the team. 

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The months went by and you had your ups and downs. There were days when you felt as if there was nothing that could stop you, no baggage weighing you down. But there were also bad days, days when it all came crashing back to you. 

This was one of the bad days. 

You could feel all the thoughts, the memories, creeping into your mind. You could feel it all crashing down suddenly and you knew you needed to do something, anything. But it was too late. The memories burst through to the surface and you were drowning. 

________________________________________________________________

You had been working a tough case, taking down a pedophile ring with people in the highest level offices involved. You had all received your share of threats, but Casey, your DA, had gotten the worst of it. She was the one who had to question the scumbags in court, she was the one airing all the vile things that they had done. 

Eventually the case was over, you had solid evidence, but some of the people involved just had too many connections. Every person that had been accused was sent to prison, but the threats that came didn’t come from them but from manila envelopes with only Casey’s name on it, death threats, descriptions of vile and horrific things that they were planning. 

Every night, you had made sure that Casey made it home ok, that she was safe. The two of you had spent every day together, getting closer. You had been thinking of how to tell her about your feeling, how every time you saw her, your heart felt like it was running on pure adrenaline. How you felt such a wave of relief every time she told you that she had made it home. 

You had worked up the courage, knowing that Casey was finishing up in court, you wanted to go to her office and surprise her. As you walked up the steps to the building, you saw Casey coming out. You gave her a wave and started walking towards her when you heard the noise. At first you didn’t register that anything had happened. Then you saw Casey fall. 

________________________________________________________________

It had been over a year since you saw Casey fall. A year since you had watched her bleed out on the steps. A year since you fell apart. You had started drinking to cope with the pain, to numb yourself. It wasn’t until Cragen gave you the card that you realized you had a problem. 

And here it was again, thee memories making you relive the worst day of your life. 

You made your way outside, hoping that fresh air would help clear your head. Looking around at all the people going about their day, not paying  any mind to the woman quietly losing her mind. And that’s when you saw it. 

A flash of red hair and a familiar face. 

You stood frozen for a moment, and then your instincts kicked in. You ran after where you thought you had seen the person, but there was no one there. You tried to clear your mind, but you couldn’t. 

Looking around desperately, you tried to find her face in the crowd again. But she was gone. Your mind had you chasing a ghost. 

________________________________________________________________

That night you walked into your apartment and placed your groceries on the counter. Unpacking them all until there was only one bag left. Reaching for it with shaky hands you pulled out the last item. A bottle of whiskey.

Pulling out a small cup from the cabinet, you broke the seal on the bottle and poured a bit into the cup. As you took the cup, the chalkboard caught your eye. The number 359 stared you back. Immediately, you felt guilty. Letting your worst memories drive you to this point. 

Setting the cup on the counter, you started to cry. You cried for everything that you had lost, everything that you could never get back. 

You were in the middle of your crying when you heard the knock at your door.

“Just a minute!” You called out, grabbing tissues and blotting your face as you went to the door, yanking it open. 

When you looked up, your breath stopped. 

“Casey?”