Now, the Sunday Six, stolen from quoshara, who better never quit posting it 'cause it's the only way I remember. XD
Each Sunday, post six sentences (more or less) from a writing project -- published, submitted, in progress, for your cat -- whatever.
Reid was strung up in the middle of the room, naked and facing away from him, restrained by chains that had been locked around his wrists and arms and chest waist and thighs, and he hung limply from them as they stretched from the ceiling. Morgan forced away another burst of panic, forced himself to stay still, examine the room. Small, narrow, metal, like some kind of unused meat locker or an old cargo container, with doors at one end that were shut fast, perhaps barred and locked from the other side. The chains holding Reid up were attached to winches that had been welded to the sides and ceilings of the container, but he couldn't see how to release them. Small squares of the walls had been cut away and replaced with grills in three places.
Cameras, Morgan thought; this unsub will want to watch everything.