Disclaimer – I DO NOT own anything. Thank you.

My name is Spencer Reid. I'm sure you have heard my name all over the world. I can't help it that I am famous. It is just a talent. Some envy me, some are scared of me, and some want me dead.

Then again, I guess I'm not famous for the normal reasons. You see I am a killer. Hey, I freely admit it to everyone. I'm not trying to hide it. And that just annoys the law enforcement, especially the FBI, even more. Because I cannot be caught. I walk in the public, everyone knows my face, but I still evade them. And damn does that frustrate them. They don't know how I do it and I like to keep it that way. But it isn't as fun getting away so easily. I love the adrenalin of the kill and knowing that everywhere in the world people are looking for me. It is fantastic!

I guess you should know more about me then my name, although you probably know most of it anyway. My mother was a schizophrenic. My biological father left when I was still young. I didn't know any better then and I thought I could take care of her, but man was I wrong. I was always stressed trying to keep her alive and keep the neighbors from finding out. But alas, my efforts were for naught. When I walked in the house back from buying groceries for the next week, I found her there. Blood was pooling everywhere, the knife still silently waiting there in her hand. It was then that I realized that she killed herself. She committed suicide during one of the rare moments she was lucid. The weight of what happened practically broke me at that age.

But that is when the fascination started. The dark crimson blood just laying there, the blank eyes that could see no more, and the utter finality of death took its hold on me. It disgust me how much I loved seeing her dead. But as you can see, I got over that. Why worry over such trivial things. The people I killed, all 16 of them, got what they deserved. No one would miss them.

I should probably wrap this up. I'm coming up to victim number 17's house. He is someone I know well. Someone you may even know. But his death was foretold the day he left me. The day my father left, his future was sealed. He would die by my hands. And I can't wait to do it. His blooding pooling over my hands as I see his eyes go blank and his body go limp. I might even have a little fun with my knife. I've never tortured anybody, but he was a special case, a very special case. Hold on a minute, I've got to be silent for a minute.

"Hello daddy, I'm home," I whispered as I crawled through his window. Blood would be spilt tonight. And it would be my father's. My smirk could be seen for miles.

Back in Quantico, Virginia, curses and yelling would be heard all over the BAU. They just got bad news, very bad news. There was a murder the night before, with an MO that they were all familiar with. An MO that they had seen numerous times. It was one that many hoped that they would never have to see again.

"Spencer Reid," sighed SSA Aaron Hotchner as he looked at the latest victim. "He has killed again."

"Damn!" yelled Derek Morgan as he pounded on his desk.

Even an outsider could see that this was going to be a very long day. Little did anyone know that the week was about to get a hell of a lot worse.