EASY WAY OUT ¹ ➢ spencer reid

XXIV

Over the course of the next few days I did what any other adult would do. Avoided my problems. I helped mom and dad as best I could around the house, as well as played video games with Issac. When dad's birthday rolled around we performed our usual ritual. We ordered dinner and sat in the living room, watching Sherlock solve case after case. It made me miss work.

The day after my disastrous date with Elliot I looked at the photos Morgan gave me. The bodies looked fine, aside from the blowouts at the back of the heads and the eyes being aggressively carved out. I tried to come up with something, anything really, but without knowing case details my mind came up short. As the days passed I tried to get more information out of Morgan, but he wouldn't budge.

By the time Monday rolled around I was ready to go home. Issac helped me pack my stuff into the car, while I said bye to mom and dad who were sad to see me go, but understood I could only relax so much under their roof. Issac drove me back to my building, helping me into the apartment.

"Call if you need anything." He said, hugging me tightly.

I hugged him back, nodding my head. When he pulled away he gave me a sad smile. I could tell he knew I was still pretty bothered from the other night, but thankfully, he didn't say anything. "Drive safe." I smiled back.

"No thanks," he rolled his eyes as he left.

I sighed and moved to the kitchen. I grabbed a can of beer and sat at the table, giving my leg a gentle massage. Even though it'd only been a couple of days since the stabbing it was already feeling significantly better. Plus, I was finally getting used to having crutches, which made things easier too.

I sat on the couch for hours, mindlessly scrolling through my phone, while Netflix played in the background. I pulled up Elliot's instagram, staring at his photos for longer than I cared to admit. I felt so stupid. I had no idea what I wanted and instead of doing something about it I was just sitting here, moping around like some child waiting for their mother to come along. It was embarrassing. All I wanted to do was to go back to work, which was definitely too depressing to think about. How was I going to last retirement if I couldn't even take four days off?

The rest of the night was equally unproductive. I ordered pizza for dinner, eating the majority of it on the couch before growing tired and going to bed. When I woke up the next morning I felt a rush of motivation hit. I did my usual morning routine, throwing on a pair of black jeans and a plaid button up. I rolled the fabric to my elbows and tied back my hair, which was still slightly wet from the shower. Afterwards, I threw on some light makeup and brushed my teeth. When I looked up at myself in the mirror I felt a rush of confidence flow over me.

I grabbed my phone and called a cab, which would be in front of the building in a couple of minutes. I threw on a pair of boots and grabbed my keys before heading out. I locked my apartment behind me and slowly maneuvered myself into the elevator. I rode it down to the main floor, adjusting my crutches as I made my way out to the sidewalk. Thankfully, the cab was already there. The driver hopped out, grabbing my crutches and throwing them in the back before helping me into the passenger's seat. He walked around the front of the car and plopped down on the driver's side with a loud grunt. He adjusted himself accordingly, throwing on his seatbelt before turning to me and asking where to.

I gave him the address and without a second thought he started driving. It took two minutes to get there, which was annoying to have to pay for, but with a busted leg I really didn't have much of a choice. I handed him a ten, telling him to keep the change before hopping out of the vehicle and awkwardly grabbing my crutches from the backseat. After he drove off I made my way into the building, feeling slightly out of breath. I hadn't moved this much in days and the crutches underneath my armpits were becoming increasingly uncomfortable.