Annoyance (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Gone

Spencer's POV

It had become something like a sick game to Spencer. How horribly could he treat you before you snapped, before you realized you'd had enough? He had been doing it to everyone without a second thought, just because he could, and he hated himself for it. He was out of control, and it made him nauseous to think about what he had done to you. Yet at almost every moment he was stuck thinking about the next thing he could do to you or someone else, like a repulsive cockroach inside of his brain that he couldn't kill. He was self-destructing, and he was taking you down with him. He had almost hurt you today.

He couldn't quite describe the insurmountable rage that would unexpectedly come over him, the random urge to destroy and tear down the entire world just because he could.

Just because he could...

Throughout the week he caught glimpses of the disgusting marks he had left on your skin when you had gotten home last week, and they made him feel sick. Because he hadn't left those marks out of passion or love, he left them as a reminder that he had control over you, a sign that he could use you however he wanted and you would let him. He had apologized over and over again for it, but you had brushed it off. Whether you forgave him or not, it was an abuse of power and a revolting one at that. It was inexcusable. That wasn't who he was, and yet you still trusted him. He didn't deserve that trust. He didn't deserve you.

He didn't want to think about it. But the disappointed look on your face today, the slight fear, came to the forefront of his mind every time. You were just trying to help and he knew that, but he was pushing you away all the same. He needed help. He knew it, you knew it, probably everyone did. Hotch definitely did.

You had called him on the train, but he didn't feel like talking. Finally home, Spencer sighed, throwing his phone onto the couch and roaming into the kitchen to make some tea. Maybe it would make him feel better?

It didn't.

He kept mulling over the conversation with you. He didn't want to dump all of his issues on you, but he should at least talk to somebody. As much as he detested the idea, he made a mental note to make an appointment with someone Monday morning for later in the week. He was hurting himself and the people he cared about, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep doing this before he did irreparable damage.

It was just... how could he explain how empty he felt inside? Like there was a black hole somewhere in his chest, sucking in every good thing he had and keeping it there, hidden from his reach. He had been dissociating, even having flashbacks every once in awhile. It wasn't as bad when you were there with him because you grounded him with your words or a small touch, but it was still difficult. It was almost infuriating how he couldn't quite break out of the cycle; he knew there was something wrong, could feel it in his mind and body, but his knee-jerk reaction was to act out in anger or plain deny that there was an issue because that's what he always did. But acting out had turned into a completely separate monster entirely, one that Spencer couldn't control, that reared its ugly head at a whim and lashed out for no reason at all.

And look where it got him. You had to be upset at him, but Spencer wasn't sure if you were furious or just crying. Probably both. He hated seeing you cry; it absolutely tore him apart from the inside out, and it made it worse that he seemed to be the only person there to ever see it. He liked that you came to him for comfort, but could barely stand to see the hurt in your eyes, the way you crumpled in on yourself, apologizing constantly for feeling normal human emotions. This time, he was the one who had done that to you, and for some reason the disgusting part of him had rejoiced in the fact that he could do that to you. You would finally see who he really was. What he had turned into.