You'll Never Be Whole Until You Lose Control- Spencer Reid

8.) staying up

"How can I sleep if I don't have dreams?
I just have nightmares
How can it be?
I still believe something is out there" Staying Up, The Neighbourhood

Content warning: graphic descriptions of drugs and depression

Spencer

The dreams started out the same.

I'm trapped behind the bars as the inmates are yelling, blood dripping from their faces in the cells beside mine. My hands claw at the bars, trying so desperately to pry myself out but I can't.

Then, Cat was there.

Walking freely down the hall, the queen of the chaos around me. She was laughing and pointing to the ground outside the cell.

And that's when I saw her. Anna, on the ground, throat viciously slashed like the girls in the crime scene photos. "Spencer, help me," she whimpered, reaching a feeble hand out towards me. Thick hair matted in blood, pale as the snow and purple lipped. Her other hand was clasped around a white peony blossom, blood staining the white petals. Petals began to fall from the sky like snow, landing in the pool of blood surrounding the angel on the ground.

I felt like my heart stopped. I couldn't get to her, trapped by the bars. I banged my fists against the bars that my hands aches, sobs wracking my body, "no, no, please, Anna! Help her! Someone, help her!" My voice was raw from screaming.

She let out a broken breath-

I sat straight up in the bed, tears streaming down my face.

I threw myself into the shower, the water so hot it scalded my skin. The steaming water blurred my vision, but all I could see was the remnants of my dream, wishing I could wash the thoughts down the drain.

But I would never be clean.

The soap I rubbed into my skin couldn't clear my blackened conscious, even as I rubbed the washcloth with my shaking hands so hard that it left abrasions on my arms.

I couldn't take back what I had done. I couldn't take back what happened.

I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

Forgive me.

I can't do this.

I'm so sorry.

I couldn't condemn her to this.

I wanted to climb to heaven from the depths of hell, just to learn that some men aren't worth saving.

I was a fool to believe I could be anything more than a sinner.

When I had coded when I was taken hostage by Tobias Henkel, I had not seen a white light. All I saw was a murky darkness, and maybe that was what I deserved. No matter how many people I had saved while at the BAU, my soul was still condemned to hell. I was cursed with a debt to pay to whatever God existed. 

Or maybe this was purgatory, a limbo that would stretch on for eternity.

My arms burned beneath the scratches, an ache for something harsher than the hotel's cotton cloth. I could feel the veins in my arms acutely, the blood rushing through them and how tempted I was to let something else run through me.

I remembered clearly the moment when I had pocketed the Dillaudid from Tobias Henkel's dead body.

I pushed my fists against my face as I sobbed, slowly falling into myself on the ground of the shower.

'A good person wouldn't do that. You're one of them, Spencie.'

"No, I'm not," I cried to the memory. "I don't want to be."

Anna

I stared at the peonies on the windowsill, watching the petals fall one by one until there were nothing left but stems.

Each petal was a cruel version of "he loves me, he loves me not," as they gathered beneath the vase, slowly yellowing as they dried.

As I had collected each dried petal and placed them in a mason jar, I felt tears come to my eyes as I thought about Spencer. About the way his eyes gazed into mine, the soft yet assertive way he had held me, how he spoke my name and how his lips felt on mine.

I could almost feel them now.

It had been over a week since I'd spoken to him, but my memory served me well. My last text messages left on read; occasionally when I would go to reread the texts I would see three small dots indicating that he was texting me, only for them to disappear like I'd imagined them.

I had almost begun to believe that he was in fact a figment of my imagination, too.

That was until Penelope Garcia was standing in front of me in my shop.

"I've had a long day and I need to look at some pretty, shiny rocks," her eyes were sparkling behind her glasses. "And, I need to talk to you about the Good Doctor."

"Well, hello to you too," I let out an awkward laugh.

"Listen, I know I barely know you, but I know Spencer," there was a fondness in her voice. "He means a lot to me, and he's been through so much and he doesn't know how to express what he's feeling sometimes. I can tell he really likes you and quite honestly, I think that scares him."

I was quiet for a moment, staring down at the hardwood floor, and all I could manage to say was, "oh."

"He's..." her voice trailed off for a moment, before regaining composure. "Well, I can't tell you exactly why but he's been hurt, a lot, and he doesn't deserve it."

"I know he went to prison for a crime he didn't commit," I looked up at her.

"You looked him up? A girl after my own heart. Does he know that you know?"

"God no, I honestly felt super guilty snooping around after I found out."

She placed her hand on my shoulder with a sigh, "Prison changed Spencer a lot. I hadn't seen him look so... close to normal in a year as he did when he was talking to you. No, screw that, better than normal."

Red flags would have been waving in anyone else's face, but I wasn't anyone else.

Or maybe they were, but I didn't want to see.