A Miracle From Hell

Chapter 18

We do not heal the past by dwelling there; we heal the past by living fully in the present.---Marianne Williamson.

Reid tapped the steering wheel nervously, staring at the brick walls in front of him. He had put off this appointment for weeks, nearly a whole month. 

It had taken almost every thing in him to drag himself out of his apartment and into his car. He was late, but he might as well show up. 

Sighing, he took the keys out of the ignition and locked the car. 

His mind swirled with paranoia, and he hurried in, relieved to be inside again. The receptionist looked up at him, smiling expectantly. "Can I help you?" 

He offered a weak smile back. "Hi, I'm Spencer Reid. I have an appointment?" He tossed a look over his shoulder. Just some empty chairs and a fish tank. 

"Reid," She scrolled through the computer. "Oh, your appointment was fifteen minutes ago. I can see if Dr. Andrews is available." 

He would take it as a sign and leave. No, no. Gripping the edge of the counter, he gritted his teeth, determined to see this through. "Yes, thank you." 

She stood up and walked off. He wandered over to the fish tank, and almost, subconsciously  began identifying them. 

"Mr. Reid?" He turned around. "Dr. Andrews will see you now." 

He swallowed, feeling sick, and followed her in. 

The whole therapy session crept by, and Reid felt trapped, like a bug under a microscope.  He was relieved to talk though. Talking had never felt so good before. 

Andrews had absorbed all his trauma without batting an eye. He simply nodded, one leg crossed over the other, hands folded on his lap. Once Reid had started talking, he didn't stop, the words flowed out of him, stumbling and rolling into each other. 

It was only when the two of them faced each other, silent, that Andrew spoke up. "Spencer, we're going to focus on something I like to call regaining control. In situations like these, the abuser has taken something away from you. I would like to help you recover it if I can." 

Reid nodded, curious. "What did he take, from me?" He felt like it was a stupid question, but he had to know. 

Andrews looked at him and smiled softly. "He took a year from your life, and along with that, the ability to sleep well, and peace of mind. I'm making it yours and my goal to take all that back from him. He won't have any more power over you, instead you will be in control of your life. How does that sound?" 

Reid stared at him. "I would love that, but-" He was stopped by Andrews. 

"There are no buts here, you are going to overcome this." He wrote out a prescription for him and handed it to him. "This will help you get to sleep." He saw the look on Reid's face. "I saw your record, no these don't lead to dependence. Please take them, you need a good nights sleep." 

Reid hesitated, then took the paper. "Can I come back next week?" He asked, eyes studying the carpet. 

Andrews stood up. "Of course, I'll have it put in the schedule." 

He stood up, unsure. "Thank you, Dr. Andrews." 

Andrews nodded. "Of course." 

On the ride back to the apartment, he contemplated the last hour or so. Could he really take back his life from Lewis? He shivered and turned in at his apartment complex. 

Once inside, he collapsed on his couch, his mind going over what Dr. Andrews had said. He shook his head. He might be able to take his life back, but Lewis would always have a part of him. 

His phone buzzed and he looked at it frowning. How'd the appointment go? JJ, he thought.  

Fine.  He texted back, hesitant to get into detail about it. 

Do you feel any better?

He paused. Did he feel better? 

He still felt raw, and angry, cold and weak. He had an irrational fear of running out of water, that was so intense he felt the need to drink numerous cups of water at one time. He had scars that burned. His nightmares were vibrant, and plentiful, plaguing him every night without fail. 

And yet....

In all of that darkness, in all of that pain, that was pressing down on his chest making it impossible to breath, he could see a pinprick of light. 

Light that offered to help out him out of his hell and to help him live with his scars. 

He took a deep breath. The way back would be hard, and knew that he would never be the Spencer Reid that he was before, but he was ready. 

He was ready to regain control. 

He looked down at his phone. 

Yes. He answered.