(spencerreidxreader)

-18-

SERIOUS TW// MENTIONS OF EATING DISORDERS// PSYCHOTIC BREAK// SELF INFLICTED- VIOLENCE

You stared at your plate. The food staring back with a matched intensity, forcing you away from it. It seemed that this was a side effect, maybe to the pain meds, maybe to the trauma- whatever it was- it was bad. You were devolving, you could feel it happening, you had spoken to so many officers. Cried into so many shoulders. Nothing was getting better.

You pushed your plate away. Towards where Spencer would sit. If he were there. A bath, the idea soothed you so you drew yourself a bath. Things were getting bad this particular day.

The water engulfed your body- like an all-consuming hug, but warmer and safer. Water couldn't hurt you. Only people. Only your mother. only the strangers who hurt you. 

Spencer wouldn't love you if you changed. If you looked different. If you got scared. If you got clingy. Spencer wouldn't love you if you didn't stay the same. That's what you were telling yourself that night. That is what you cried about as the water sloshed over your legs, creating little waves.

You heard Spencer's voice that night. You felt him reach out and touch your shoulder. You felt him guide you to your room, clothe you and put you in bed. You listened to his heartbeat as he lay holding you.

Nothing was real to you. Things were getting bad. Really bad.

Eating was off the table. Sleeping was unheard of. All you could do the past four days was stay in a zombie-like state.

When Spencer took you to the doctors. They gave you more pills, these ones were bigger than the pain meds, these ones were white. Melatonin. "It will help you sleep," the nurse said. Her bright cheeks shining under the fluorescent light. "Poor thing probably needs it." You had smiled at that. Poor thing. This is what you were at this point. A thing.

"Y/N, why don't you take your pills now. Try and take a nap." You nodded, feeling the tiredness pressing down on you. You took them. You slept. And when you woke. The ticking of the clock on your wall seemed louder. The rumbling of the freeway seemed closer, the light on your alarm clock was suddenly as bright as the sun. Your floor felt like a water bed with too little water. The world spun around you like you were trapped inside a movie. Spencer's touch felt foreign, unwanted, you pushed him away, falling to the floor pushing yourself into the corner "no no no no no no no-" You were screaming.

But you were trapped underwater. The screams couldn't be heard. Everything was dark and bright at the same time. All you wanted was to feel the warmth. Feel power. You wanted a hold on something, you needed control.  You shakily stood, making your way to the kitchen, Spencer too afraid to touch you, you almost collapsed in your haze, you had to do it, you had to feel control.

 You grabbed a kitchen knife off the counter, plunging it into your leg, the blood poured out but you felt peace. The overwhelming noises and bright flashing lights faded, you felt what most call calm. You raised the knife again but Spencer's hands flew around your wrist, grabbing the knife, pinning your hands at your side. 

You tried to stand but Spencer held you down, that is when the world went dark. His face faded away. It scared you, not being able to see his comforting and worried eyes the permanent look of dedication on his face. You weren't too panicked though, at least not for long, because when you opened your eyes, you saw him again. This time he was crying though.

"Spence what's wrong," You muttered. The fluorescent lights above your head stung your eyes. Hospital. 

"You're sick, Y/N, very, very, very sick." You looked up into his sad eyes. 

"What do you mean Spencer.." You were afraid of the answer, you knew you weren't well but you didn't know you were this sick. You didn't even fully remember what happened.

"There wasn't an attacker. You wrote that letter. You weren't taken. You're sick. You're really, really sick." You looked up your eyes widening, this couldn't be true, you would remember if you pieced together this whole thing, you would know, you would remember.

"What do you mean, I have scars, I have so many I-" You watched as he buckled and folded, unable to stop the flow of tears. 

"You did that. You.. you- you're not okay, Y/N, and you didn't even know it." You scanned the room, the only other person in the room was a nurse, she had long box braids, they were pretty, you liked them. You didn't even notice you were staring aggressively at the nurse until she hurriedly left.

"I'm crazy aren't I." You said after long silence "You're in love with a crazy person." Spencer shook his head, looking at you, past you, beyond you, to something you couldn't see. He didn't speak. He didn't speak for a long time.

"You're going to be okay." He whispered, "they can fix it, you're not going to die." You reached out for his hand, but he didn't take it. "I'm sorry I let this happen, I should have seen the signs. I should have noticed, the fluctuation in mood, the altering storylines, the memory loss."

"What is going to be okay?"

"Y/N, you have a brain tumour."

"I- I- What." 

"Psychotic episodes are a rare but not impossible side effect to brain tumours, but you exhibited so many other signs, I should have seen it." You shook your head "Don't worry, they're going to get rid of it," You looked at Spencer. He didn't deserve any of this, he deserved someone who could really love him. Someone he didn't need to worry about. You wanted to cry, and scream and everything in between, but you calmly took his hand, running your finger over his palm, drawing an invisible heart shape. 

"I will always love you."

"I know."