He was always there. He never leaves, only when we close. He sat in the same position every day, and purchased the same meal every day. And every day, I sat at the register and watched him.
He never talked, he never did anything. He didn't even eat his meal.
I tried talking to him once, but he didn’t respond, which lead me to think that he was mute.
I didn’t know his name or how old he was, but I guessed he was about twenty. Maybe he was younger, but no older. I liked to call him Spencer, and that’s what everyone at work called him.
The world seemed to move around him, but in his world, time just didn’t move.
three months ago, spencer reid's apartment blew up and supposedly killed him in the explosion. despite his team's desperate efforts, the case was marked as unsolved and filed away. they had nothing to bury, and his funeral had a devastatingly small turnout. and yet they were expected to move on.
little did they know, spencer had not been in his apartment when it blew up, and is being held captive in an underground testing facility with other hostages. with his team's efforts to avenge him slowing to a stop, their investigation being closed, and believing him to be dead, he is unlikely to ever escape.