spencer reid - one shots.

- choice

     Spencer felt his heart shatter into pieces.

Everything that he had done for her, everything that he had given to her—Paislee didn't even care about any of it. None of it didn't even mattered to her in the first place, it seemed.

But it seemed like that drug did.

"Spencer—" Paislee croaked out, trying to pull her arm away from him tentatively. But Spencer's grip only tightened, the woman grimacing as his thumb dug into her wrist. Although, it wasn't as painful as the look of horror inside of his eyes as they pierced right through her soul.

Paislee knew that this was her fault.

"Why?" Spencer asked quietly, his voice cracking and making tears swarm in Paislee's vision. He stared at it—and counted exactly 18 dots. 18. That was the amount of times that he had let her down. That he didn't satisfy her needs—that he wasn't good enough. And that wasn't even counting the scars that had already faded.

"I-I need it, Spencer." Paislee whispered, shaking her head with shame as tears brimmed her eyes. She knew he was disgusted by her. She knew he was more than disappointed; that he loathed her now, seeing just exactly how sick she was.

"Am I not enough?" Spencer asked softly, his face showing all kinds of pain as he stared into her eyes. Paislee's eyes flickered down to his mouth, noticing how his lips began to tremble.

"You are!" She protested and shook her head aggressively, the guilt eating her up inside. "Spencer, you're more than enough—"

"Then what does it make you feel that I can't?" Spencer quickly asked, biting his lip with guilt. His doubts had been confirmed in the worst way possible; that he wasn't enough for her and would never be.

She was speechless. Paislee felt a tear run down her face, staring at him with her mouth hanging open.

"Is it sex? Because I can do that for you! Or is it because I'm not here? Is it work? I could've figured something out, Paislee—but not this! You- you can't do this." His voice broke another time, arms pulling back from her and rubbing his face in his palms with frustration.

"No! It's none of those things, and it's not your fault, Spencer. You can't possibly blame yourself." Paislee protested, gripping his forearms. "Please—I-I'm sorry. I can't control it. I-I need it. It helps the pain—" she whimpered when Spencer's loud voice cut her off.

"No!" Spencer suddenly snapped, tearing his arms away from her and quickly losing his temper. "You don't need it!" He shouted brokenly—Spencer knew that it was addiction and something she couldn't control—he knew exactly what she was probably feeling at the moment because he himself had experienced it—but he couldn't stop himself from getting frustrated.

He was so disappointed in himself. So upset at himself for never being good enough.

"Spencer I'm sorry!!" Paislee yelled in desperation, clinging onto him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry—"

"Are you?!" Spencer asked through huffs, ripping himself away from her and getting off the bed. He ran into the bathroom and the woman immediately followed in suit, desperate to stop him.

Spencer tore through every single cabinet, throwing every drawer open frantically and angrily, ignoring Paislee's cries and protests.

"Stop. Spencer, stop—"

"Get off of me." Spencer shook his head, lightly pushing her away. He reached the middle drawer, throwing it open. Spencer stared at the space filled entirely up those damn glass bottles—it was a sight that Spencer had been easily accustomed to, but now he felt repulsed by it all. This was triggering his trauma, but Spencer couldn't focus on that, turning to Paislee instead. "Where the hell did you get all of this?"