Spencer Reid's Daughter

Part 26

You slowly followed him into his office, he sat in his large desk chair and you sat on the couch in front of him. His office was spacious, there was a large book shelf behind you, he had a quite large desk that was neatly organized with one of those green lamps on it. You both sat in silence, neither of you knew how to start the conversation. You sort of wished he just didn't ever say anything and to forget about it, but again, your father is Spencer Reid, the likelihood of him forgetting about this was zero. He started off by saying, "y/n, you know I'm just doing this to keep you safe. You are the only person I have left and I don't want to lose you, I don't know what I'd do without you." Crap, he played the 'You're all I have left card.' You just nodded, you had no idea what to say to that. He continued, "So, I was wondering what type of help you think would be best for you? I found some great therapists and some overnight care facilities that specialize in-" He obviously didn't want to offend you by saying "mental hospital" but you really didn't care at this point. You interrupt him, "Dad, it's fine if you say mental hospital or psych ward, but I was thinking instead of therapy would be to talk with Emily and have sessions with her. She went through the same thing I am, I think she could help me get through it." He nodded but you could tell he was not satisfied, he pulled out a notebook in his desk drawer. You stood up and looked over at it to read what it said, "Take away- take away what?" You couldn't read the whole notebook before he closed it. He answered, "Okay, we have someone for you to talk to weekly, now we need to make some changes around here." You were very confused, your dad didn't usually act like this, you felt he was disappointed in you. He ripped out a piece of empty paper in his notebook and began writing some things on it. You sat there in silence until he finished, his facial expression changed from being almost angry/upset to concerned, "y/n, are you sure you don't want to go to a psych ward... These changes are going to be a lot and I might act different than normal." You realized that your dad wasn't trying to be upset, he just really wanted to help you get better. You looked up and answered him, "Yeah, I'm sure." He looked down, "Okay, I just want to tell you before, I am just wanting you to get better." He then began to tell you what he was writing, "Okay, first thing, I want us every night for just about 15 minutes to talk about our day and how we are both feeling. I think we can get some things off our chest doing that. Next is that I want you to always, and I mean always, tell me when you have the urge or feel bad. You will probably be spending a lot more time with me so I will know when something is up. I also will be limiting your access to the knives and/or blades in the house, just precautions. Lastly, let's go up to your room and get your blades, I want you to show me where you hide them as well." You felt your stomach drop, you knew he was going to do that, you just hoped he forgot about it. You stood up quietly as he followed you up the stairs to your room. You first lifted up your mattress and grabbed the first blade. You handed it to him and showed him the other one in your nightstand. After that, you begin to walk to your bathroom, you feel a sharp pain in your thigh again. You grabbed your leg quickly and inhaled. Your dad looked at you concerned but you tried to act normal. He asks, "y/n, are you okay?" You quickly lied and said, "Yeah, just stomach cramps." You reach into the cabinet under the sink and grab your last blade, you didn't clean it from when you used it earlier today, there was still recent blood on it. Your eyes widened but you had given up, you handed the blade to him and looked down, "That's the last one." He observes it quickly and looks up at you. His eyebrows fuzzled, "y/n, why is there fresh blood on this?" You just looked down, there was no point anymore in lying, "I'm sorry." His hand went up to his forehead and he began to pace around the room, he was frustrated, "Are you sorry?" You begin to cry, "Yes, I am!" He begins to shout, "Are you sure? Because you say it every time b-but you continue to do it, over and over. Do you really even want my help because it seems like everytime I turn my back, for even one second, you do it again? I don't know how to help you anymore!" You just stood there and sobbed. Still frustrated, he asked, "Where? Was it on your thigh?" You gave him a look that confirmed his answer was true, he angrily said, "Follow me." You followed him downstairs, tears streaming down your face. He reaches into the cabinet violently and grabs the first aid kit, "y/n, you know your femoral artery is on your thigh, that could have killed you!" Before he even turned around, you said under your breath, "That was the point." You didn't think he heard you until he turned around with utter shock. He thought you just cut, he didn't think you were suicidal. His eyes began to glisten with tears, "y/n-" He was truly sorry. He put down the first aid kit, "I'm sorry y/n, I thought it was just-" You answered, "I know dad, I thought it was too." He began to hug you but you pulled away, he looked at you confused but you just said, "Can you clean it first, it's hurting." He grabs it and says, "Right sorry." You follow him to the couch and he silently cleans your wound. After he finished, he quickly just hugged you. You didn't know what to do so you just sat there. Eventually, you hugged him back and he said, "y/n, I truly am sorry. I just thought I could-" You could feel him sobbing and you didn't want him to feel anymore pain than he already has, you didn't want him to take the blame for this. You began to cry a bit and reassured him, "Dad, you have helped me, more than you know. I love you and this is just something we are going through, but you are helping me through it." He sniffed a bit, he never wanted you to see him cry. He pulled away and said, "Let's lighten up the mood, do you want ice cream?" 

He sat up from the couch and and went to the freezer, he grabbed two small containers of ice cream and handed it to you. He sits down and grabs the remote, "What do you want to watch?" You shrugged and took a bite out of your ice cream. He puts it on a true crime documentary and says, "True crime." Less than five minutes into it, your father begins to rant and solve the case, "It's definitely Watson, he is a janitor, he fits the age range, he is a diagnosed schizophrenic, he fits perfectly." Without even looking at you, he flips to the end to check if he was right, sure enough he was. He stood up and said, "And it took them 13 years to solve-" He notices you look at him annoyed, "Whoops, sorry." You give him a glare but then begin to laugh, "Let's just watch a movie. Avengers!" He nods and says, "Avengers it is!" He starts it and you say, "If we are going to watch this, you cannot... and I mean cannot rant about every sci-fi mistake they make." He laughs and says, "I'll try." You laugh and say, "Do or do not-" He interrupts, "There is no try." You both laugh(I hope you understood that reference) and start the movie. You finished your ice cream and put it on the coffee table. You begin to feel tired, so you laid down on his chest. Eventually, your eyelids could not stay open, so you slowly fell asleep.