MEDICINE ➤ SPENCER REID

NINETEEN

"It hurts when they're gone. And it doesn't matter if it's slow or fast, whether it's a long drawn-out disease or an unexpected accident. When they're gone the world turns upside down and you're left holding on, trying not to fall off." - Walter Mosley.

* * *

Louise woke up to the pungent smell of hospital disinfectant taking over her nostrils abruptly. The room was silent apart from her heavy breathing and distressing sounds you'd often hear in hospitals that indicates you're somewhat alive.
Louise slowly opened her tired eyes, squinting in attempt to define the blurry vision before her. She glanced around and took in the blue and white coloured hospital bedroom.

How long have I been here? Louise told herself, shutting her eyes in an attempt to remember what had exactly happened. Then it all hit her with a bang. The memory of it all started to flood her thoughts.

'After wracking out one last cough, blackness overcame Louise - and her body collapsed completely into Spencer's arms, her eyes lolling backwards and into her head too quickly for anyone's liking.

Blackness.

Louise saw as unconsciousness overcame her, hitting forcefully her like a brick wall.

Silence.

All Louise could head were the strong ringing that rung deeply in her ears.'

Louise could just about remember the feeling of her lungs collapsing that morning, falling into Spencers arms in a heap. She remembered the extreme pain, a pain that she'd never ever experienced before.

She soon felt the plastic of a thick tube grind down her throat - almost gagging at the feeling of plastic riding against the tender internal skin. Louise had realised it were a ventilator - a ventilator hooking her up to countless wires with tubes that ran down her mouth and into her new lungs. The feeling was horrible, and she hated the feeling of each breath being forced by the ventilator, almost breathing for her.
Louise tried to reach her hands up, clawing at the machine down her throat, but a warm hand clamped around her cold wrist, the skin temperature contrasting with hers.

Spencer Reid sat beside her, one hand gripping 'The Narrative of John Smith', his other hand taking her wrist in his extremely soft grip. He wore the same outfit, messy hair from sleeping in the same spot in the chair beside her, and a tired expression. His eyes wore purple bags underneath them from constant crying, his cheekbones stuck out from the little food he ate, and the colour of his skin seemed ghostly pale.
He had stayed with her all the while she rested.

Spencer gently placed Louise's wrist back down to her side, quick to let go from her boney skin and back to the book he held. Louise looked up to him, furrowing her eyebrows when she realised that she had no ability to speak.
Spencer moved closer to Louise's side, and he watched as her eyes traced every single movement he took. His chair shuffled right beside her, and the book in his spare hand found a place on a side table.

With the lights now dim, nobody in the room, her new lungs feeling foreign and Spencer's glassy eyes, it was safe to say Louise knew what was happening.

The ventilator down her throat, her eyelids growing heavier by the seconds, ribcage throbbing and heart aching, the thought of death rose to her mind; terrifying her to the core, when all she could do was lay completely paralysed and watch as her boyfriend sucked in the tears he so desperately wanted to release.

Spencer took her cold hand in his, wanting to say everything to her. But, all he could say were a goodbye. He didn't want to say goodbye, but he had too. Louise held back the tears that formed in her eyes as she felt his warm hand press against hers, feeling comforting - feeling like she could die without his touch.