𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧 |~𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚁𝚎𝚒𝚍~|

Chapter Nineteen

I watched as Reid talked to Jeremy. 

I pressed my fingers to my lips and sighed. I wished that I could just find Katie and give her a big hug. She was only 6. Her childhood had already been ruined. 

When Reid was finished interviewing him, I saw Hotch and Morgan running to a stairwell and followed them. 

We made our way to a storage room below the mall and started searching it. Just as I was looking inside of a large shelving unit, I heard Hotch yell, "I got her!" 

I ran towards his voice and helped lift her out of the cabinet she was stuffed in. There was tape over her mouth and she wasn't breathing. 

Hotch started doing CPR on her. The medics got there and set up their system. I knelt next to her and held her IV bag. 

I bit my lip, not knowing what I would do if she didn't start breathing again.

Just as it seemed that all hope was lost, Katie started coughing. I let out a sigh of relief as I heard the beep of the heart monitor. Then, the medics lifted her up and got her on a stretcher. 

I followed Hotch and Morgan outside and found Reid standing next to Jeremy. He smiled at me and I tried to smile back at him, but I couldn't. 

Then, it was time to go. 

When we got back to the BAU, Spencer looked up at me. "I'm assuming you need a ride home?" 

I nodded. "Thanks." 

We got into his car. The ride was silent. I was trying my hardest to keep it together, and Spencer could tell. 

When Spencer pulled into my driveway, I didn't get out. "Do you want to come in for a cup of hot chocolate?" I asked. 

"Yes, please." 

We went inside my house and I put some water in a kettle. Once the hot chocolate was made, we sat on my couch. I pulled my feet up and sighed. 

"So. This case hit close to home for you?" he asked. 

I nodded. "Yeah..." I looked down at my hands, trying to figure out a way to talk about it. "It started on my 6th birthday. My uncle lived in New York City, but he had come up to my town to celebrate it. He was staying at our house.

It was like that for seven years. I would only see him on major holidays and my birthday. Then, when I was thirteen, he moved to Champlain. After that, he would have dinner at our house once every month.

Every time stayed over, he waited until my parents were asleep to sneak into my room. He told me that I better not make a sound. He told me that if I told my parents, he'd kill them. He was convinced he was 'in love' with me.

Then, on my 15th birthday, my mom walked into my room while he was in there with me. He killed her on the spot. I didn't want him to kill my dad, too, so I hid in the closet and called 911. He's in prison now." 

Spencer looked at me with sadness in his eyes. "Delaney, I'm so sorry." 

I sighed. "Learning was my escape. I liked to tire my brain out so I could fall asleep quickly at night without letting my brain wander too much and think about what he was doing to me."

He placed his hand over mine and rubbed it with his thumb. "Are you okay?" 

I sipped my hot chocolate and nodded. "I am now. I had to go to years of therapy and I still take meds to keep the depression and anxiety and PTSD away." 

"Have you seen him since?"

I shook my head. "No. He's in a prison in Illinois. He sends me a letter every year on my birthday, but I don't open it. I don't like celebrating my birthday." 

Spencer nodded and was quiet for a moment. "Have you ever really talked about this with someone?" 

I shrugged. "Other than my therapist, no." 

"You know, you can talk to me about it any time; you can't keep thinks bottled up inside." 

"I know. It's just tough sometimes." 

"Yeah." 

We sat on my couch and finished our hot chocolate. 

"Is it ok if you stay here tonight?" I asked. 

"Yeah, totally." 

"Thanks for being here for me." 

"Of course."