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ABDUCTED
ANGST
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Your screams echoed throughout the empty corridor as your attacker slashed your body repeatedly. Amazingly enough, the wounds weren't large enough to kill you. However, that merely furthered the notion that this man had worse plans for you. A stinging sensation overwhelmed you as your blood dripped onto the cement floor. You were swinging helplessly from tight bounds that tied your hands to a hook on the ceiling. The uncomfortable position had immediately dislocated your shoulders, causing an ache to resonate throughout the entirety of your being.
After making a few more shallow slices on your calves, the masked man left the room. Earlier that night, he had cut your shirt off. Your bare chest made you feel exposed. Not to mention, the room was freezing and your lack of clothing failed to help in this situation. It was just an additional way for him to violate you while he had you trapped in here. Where am I? You thought. Please hurry, Spence. You knew your boyfriend and his team had to be searching for you. There was no way they would let you die in this horrible place, right?
It had been four days since you had been abducted from outside the apartment you shared with Spencer. A burly figure had torn you from your feet and thrown you into the back of a long, black van with matching paint smeared over its windows. You had no idea how far you were from home, and it was hurting you far more than any physical wound ever could. There was nothing you wanted more than to cuddle up with Spencer on your bed. You longed for the feeling of safety that washed over you at his touch. In a desperate attempt to cope with the circumstances at hand, you imagined laying your head in his lap as he read to you while playing with your hair.
I miss you so much. I'm so sorry this is happening, you thought, wishing there was some way you could tell him how much he meant to you before your imminent death. I'm tired of fighting. I can't.... I can't do this anymore.
You hadn't had food or water in what felt like an eternity, and your head was pounding. You could feel consciousness slipping from your mind as your body struggled to keep going. The last thing you remembered seeing before passing out was a spotted beige moth landing on the curve of your wrist.
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"FBI, drop the weapon!" You were torn from her daze by familiar voices breaking into the room. You wanted to scream. Your vision was blurred, and everything you heard seemed to entail a strange echo that impaired your understanding of your surroundings. Finally, you saw it, and the sight hit you like a truck. A cool metal blade was pressed to your throat. This was it. This was his end-game.
You managed to make out Spencer, Hotch, Morgan, and JJ pointing their weapons at your assailant. You made eye contact with Spencer, knowing that he was the last thing you wanted to see if you died here. You wanted to call out for him and tell him you loved him, but your throat was too dry to speak.
Fatigue overcame you once again. You could barely analyze what was happening. You could faintly detect shouting to your left. You heard two gunshots, signaling that the team must have apprehended the unsub. The next thing you knew, Spencer was sprinting to your side. He cut you loose and carefully placed his jacket over your bare chest before pulling you into him.
"Hey, hey, shhh. It's alright, Y/N. I've got you,'" he breathed. "You're gonna be okay, baby. I promise. It's gonna be okay, you're safe. I love you so much."
You did your best to nod against him, but despite your efforts you passed out once more before being wheeled away to the emergency room.
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You woke up in a clean white hospital room. A sterile, soapy scent filled your nostrils as you processed that you were wrapped in bandages from head to toe. It took a strenuous effort for you to manage looking to your side, but it was worth it as the first thing you saw was Spencer in a chair next to you. His head rested on an empty space within the stiff bed while his hand clasped your own.
"Hi baby," he smiled, brushing your hair out of your face lovingly. "How do you feel?"
"How long was I asleep?" You inquired instinctively, not daring to let go of your boyfriend. A small, irrational part of you feared that this was all a hallucination. What if you woke up in the damp garage with unkempt wounds?
"You had surgery two days ago, darling. I've been waiting for you since you got out of the operating room," he said, his voice breaking as he stroked your hair sweetly. "I really don't know what I'd do if I lost you. Fuck, I'm so glad you're okay, Y/N."
Tears welled up in your eyes. "But I'm not okay," you protested, pausing to sniffle against a bandage covering the back of your hand. "I was so scared, Spence. He hurt me so much, and I never even saw his face. I couldn't do anything about it." You swallowed in a valiant effort to hold the flood forming behind your eyelids back. "He used me, and I was just tied up, and he cut my clothes off-"
Sobs began to wrack your body as you leaned into Spencer. The boy tried to mask his sadness. He knew he needed to stay strong for you, seeing as you had undeniably gotten the worst of the recent trauma. He wrapped his arms around you carefully as to not disrupt the bandages, kissing the top of your head gently in the process. "He's gonna pay for this, Y/N. I promise. Morgan arrested him, and I swear to you I will make sure he gets the worst possible sentence even if it's the last thing I do," he sighed, determination soaking his tone. "But, what matters right now is that you're safe. You're here with me now, and I'm never going to let anyone hurt you like that again."
Spencer took your hand and kissed the back of it as he caressed your face softly. You rested your head on his shoulder, only daring to move when the nurses came in to take your vitals.
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Your legs shook beneath you as you walked into your apartment by Spencer's side. He was doing his best to support the majority of your weight with a firm arm around your waist, but his attempts failed to outweigh the intensity of the cuts from your abductions. However, the doctors had promised that you would make a full physical recovery shortly following your discharge. As for your mental state, not even the most experienced psychiatrist would be able to confidently inform you that you would ever feel the same way again.
You tilted your head up to gaze at Spencer as he helped sit you down on the bed. "Spence?"
"Yes, love?" He replied distractedly, his focus primarily on laying you down safely.
Once he had situated you so that you were comfortably tucked beneath the quilt, you mustered up the strength to ask a lone question. "Can you read to me?"
"Yeah, of course," he smiled profusely, immediately situating himself next to you. You managed to lay your head in his lap while he scanned the nearby bookshelf for something comfortingly familiar to read.
"How does the Odyssey sound?" Spencer asked, gingerly stroking your hair. You nodded as he began to recite the novel. Due to his eidetic memory, he didn't actually need the paper copy whatsoever. However, its presence was primarily for your comfort, so he kept it in hand regardless. Eventually, Spencer found himself caressing your cheek as the tale spilled from his lips.
The soothing sound of his voice lulled you away almost instantaneously. You did your best to savor the moment, considering how recent experiences had reinforced the idea that you should take nothing for granted, whether it was being with Spencer, or something as simple as having a warm bed to sleep in.
Spencer hadn't even finished the first chapter when he noticed your breathing slowing and your eyes closing. You were home safe with him. He could finally sleep at night knowing that he could protect you again. He laid down next to you and pressed kissed to your cheek gently. At last, consciousness began slipping from his body. The last thought he encountered prior to drifting away was that he never wanted to let go of you, ever again.
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