The Bureau's New Kid (Criminal Minds fanfic, possibly Spencer Reid fanfic)

Chapter 2 - My day off

I hopped out of the car and slowly walked up to the front door, twitching my hand nervously along the way, as Matt drove off and away in the distance. I opened the door and was immediately greeted with the screams coming from my foster father directed at me. 

I flinched as the screams of hatred met my ears, and I wasn't sure if I was grateful about Matt leaving or not.

"Why The Hell Are You Home So Late!? The House Is A Mess And We're Starving, While You Were Nowhere To Be Seen, Just Fucking Off Around Town!" My foster father screamed at my face as he roughly grabbed my hair and slammed the door shut. He walked to the living room, still holding my hair in a hard, violent grip.

I knew by now that he didn't really want an answer so I stayed silent, holding on to his hand, trying to lessen the pain on my head. He threw me into the living room and I landed roughly on my back, leaving me temporarily winded. He kicked me in the stomach making me curl up on myself, while he just kept screaming at me. He pulled me up by the arm, most-likely dislodging it from the socket, based on the pop sound it made, and the sudden burst of pain. He picked up an empty beer bottle from the small table next to the table and hit it over my head. I yelled out in pain and started to feel a little woozy when I felt my blood start to trickle down my head. He punched me a few more times, then he finally left me alone to go drink some more.

I climbed my way up the stairs and into my room and hovered my hand above my head. I used my healing power, but I couldn't use it much, as it works better on others than myself. I could feel the slight burn as the small cuts in my head slowly healed themselves. I went over to the bathroom connected to both the hallway and my bedroom and locked the door that connects to the hallway, just in case. 

I took my shirt off and looked in the mirror at my shoulder. It's all red and purple and has this large lump on it, yep, definitely dislocated. I grabbed my arm gently and prepared myself for pain. I used a little of my super strength and pulled my arm back into its socket. I felt an intense pain at the impact and bit into my lip to suppress the painful scream, almost instantly tasting the coppery taste of blood. I grabbed a tissue and put it on my lip, like a band-aid, but on my lip (if that makes any sense). I looked in the mirror again, noticing the dried blood on my face, before sighing and walking back into my room.

I grabbed some clothes from my dresser, walked back into the bathroom, and hopped in the shower, sighing with relief as the warm water ran down my body, relaxing my muscles, and taking the dried blood with it. 

*

I stepped out of the shower and got dressed in my pajamas. I unlocked the door connected to the hallway and brushed my teeth. After I brushed my teeth I walked into my bedroom and climbed into bed, getting as comfortable in the stiff, scratchy covers as possible.

The second my head felt the pillow, I was out like a light.

*

                            ~ 2 weeks later ~

I woke up to the annoying sound of my alarm. I groaned and quickly shut it off before it woke either of my foster parents up. I sat up in my bed, groaning as my muscles argued with the movements I made. 

I got out of bed, holding a fuzzy blanket over my arms to keep from the cold. I walked over to my calendar and crossed off the day, only 2 and a half more weeks till my birthday. I'm practically shivering with excitement! Or is that just the cold? Well, whatever it is, I'm shivering, so I tighten the blanket around me and walk over to my dresser.

I pull out a black shirt that says 'sarcasm is one of the services I offer' and some high-waisted skinny jeans I got from goodwill. I pull the clothes on and tuck the shirt into the jeans, to make it more fashionable.