Chapter Text
The first time Spencer Reid purposefully hurt himself, was right after his dad left.
“Spencer, please go to the other room.” There was no comfort in his dad’s voice; this was an order. It left no room for argument. Spencer can’t see the desperation on his face, but he knows it’s there as he looks from his dad to his mom.
“Don’t treat him like a child.”
Spencer doesn’t know whether to be grateful for his mother or not. On one hand, he isn’t a big fan of people treating him like a child, even though he is one. On the other hand, he wouldn’t mind it if his dad did treat him like a child, just this once. He would prefer to run to his room, and hide under the covers whilst pretending this argument isn’t happening. This would be exactly what he did, if he could move. To his dismay, he can’t gather enough courage to move, even an inch.
He's scared.
“I’m not gonna have this conversation in front of him.”
Spencer would much prefer they didn’t have this conversation at all. He’s not stupid. He’s been watching this argument since it started, and even he can’t miss the sense of finality in the air. It’s suffocating him and he hates it. He also hates the way they’re talking about him as if he’s not there. The last thing he wants is to be the reason they argue.
Spencer finally comes up with something to say. From the beginning of this argument up until now, Spencer’s mind had gone blank. Just like his ability to move, his ability to think had dissipated. Just another thing he’s not used to. “Statistically, children who grow up in two-parent households attain three more years of higher education than children from single-parent households.”
Spencer hopes his dad sees his words for what they really are; a desperate plea for him to stay. Though when he looks back over to his dad, he’s grabbing his clothes. And Spencer knows then that there’s nothing that can be done. The air gets thicker. Maybe he didn’t put enough emotion into his words, maybe his words didn’t convey what he meant properly. Or maybe his dad knows exactly what he’s trying to say, and just doesn’t care enough.
“We’re not statistics, Spencer.”
Spencer Is left speechless again. His next words die in his throat. He can’t even remember what those words were, because all he can think about is how this is it, his father is leaving, and there’s nothing he, or his mom, can do or say to change his mind.
“I’m not crazy.”
“If you refuse to take care of yourself, I can’t help you.”
“I do take care of myself.”
“What day is it?”
Spencer feels a small amount of hope. He stares at his mother, silently begging her to at least take a guess, because there’s a chance, no matter how small, that she’d get it right, and then his father would stay, would apologise for almost leaving. There’s only seven days in a week. And he believes in his mother. His hopes are quickly crushed as his mother looks back at him, for a moment, and then heavily exhales. “That’s not fair.”
Spencer doesn’t believe he’ll ever forget that sad smile that’s made its way onto his mother’s face. She’s just as desperate as he is. Spencer doesn’t understand why his father hasn’t changed his mind yet. Doesn’t he know what leaving will do to both of them? Maybe he just doesn’t care. And Spencer can’t help but resent his father a little bit for that.
“I’m out of ideas, Diana.”
Spencer watches his dad close his suitcase. It’s really over, his dad is really leaving. He can’t wrap his head around why. And he hates not understanding things.
Confusion is childish, and Spencer Reid is not a child.
“Well, you could take Spencer with you. Just for a little while.”
“Don’t do this.”
Spencer would never have chosen his dad over his mom in the first place, but the rejection crushes him just the same. His dad didn’t even think about it. Is he that bad?
“You’re weak.”
Spencer knows this is her last attempt at getting him to stay. Or maybe she’s trying to get his dad to agree to take him. It doesn’t matter, because his dad refuses.
“You’re right.”
Spencer can’t take his eyes off his dad, as much as he wants to comfort his mother. He watches him approach, and look down at him.
“Goodbye.”
Spencer hopes he’ll say more. That he’ll say sorry and hug him one last time. All he does is look back at his mother one last time, and leaves. What an awful goodbye. He didn’t even say goodbye to his mother. She deserves an apology, at least.
Refusing to give his father another second of his attention, he turns back to his mother. “I’m not weak.”
“I know, honey.”
Spencer feels the air lighten a bit, because she understands him. Recognised his words as a promise that he’ll never leave, he’ll never walk out on her like his dad just did.
Despite everything, his mother smiles at him, and hugs him. This solidifies his decision for him. Even if his dad did agree to take him, he would never go. His dad would have to drag him out of the house kicking and screaming, because he would never willingly abandon his mother. He loves her too much for that.
The hug didn’t last long. His mother had taken a step back and shut herself in her room without another word. Spencer understands that she needs some space.
But that means Spencer had been left alone with all these big and confusing emotions that he doesn’t know what to do with.
Which is how he’s found himself in the bathroom, with one of the blades his mother had accidentally left out, and a first aid kit.
He’s seen his mother do this a few times, whilst she’s been too lost in her own mind to notice him. And he’s watched how she relaxes afterwards, so maybe this will help.
He knows, deep down, that this is a bad idea. He’s done extensive amounts of research on this, on self-harm, out of worry for his mother. At least he knows how to do it safely. And it’s not like he hasn’t tried doing other things to help. He’s tried reading a book, doing harder schoolwork, researching something he doesn’t know much about yet. But nothing has helped, nothing has distracted him from his negative thoughts and feelings yet.
He promises himself that this is a one-time thing, that he won’t make a habit out of this.
With shaking hands, he rolls his sleeve up, closes his eyes, and drags the blade across his wrist horizontally. Almost exactly like his mother does; she doesn’t close her eyes.
He only does it once. The first thing he feels is pain. Which he was expecting. And then he feels relief. His mind settles, and he can relax, for the first time today.
The relief is short lived, because he then panics about germs, and dirt, and the cut getting infected. He drops the blade onto the floor, focusing his attention on the cut first. He mumbles the steps required to properly clean a wound as he follows said steps, finding it helps him focus better.
He rinses the cut under the tap for a while, until he feels satisfied enough to turn the tap off and step away. He opens the first aid kit, his hands no longer shaking, and grabs the gauze pad and saline solution. Careful not to spill any of it, he tips the saline onto the gauze pad, and gently wipes his cut with it. He doesn’t fully understand it yet, but the burn is strangely comforting.
He takes a deep breath before moving on to drying the cut. He grabs some tissue, gently dabbing it until it dries, exactly like he read.
Spencer is only able to properly relax after he’s bandaged the cut. Call him dramatic, but he’s not taking any chances. He remembers the blade on the floor. He rinses it under the tap until there’s no more blood on it, and then throws it away. His mother won’t be missing it.
He throws the gauze pad away too, along with the tissues, and returns the saline solution to the first aid kit. And then he slowly and carefully rolls his sleeve down, not wanting to irritate the cut.
Spencer returns the first aid kit to the cabinet under the sink, and leaves the bathroom. His mind is clearer than it was before, which he’s grateful for.
As he returns to his bedroom, returning to the book he was attempting to read before, he hopes that he never has to experience such terrible feelings again. He also hopes his mother will be okay.
Spencer doesn’t enjoy the way he understands why his mother does it now. Why anyone does it. He’s uncomfortable with the knowledge of how badly people have to be hurting to do something like that to themselves.
Spencer shakes his head, and focuses on the book he’s reading.
He’ll just have to do something to help people with this when he’s older. There's nothing he can do about it right now.