eccendentesiast | spencer reid

chapter seventeen

your knee bounces repeatedly as you sit outside the therapist office, waiting to be called in.

you got released from the hospital yesterday and since then spencer hasn't left your side - today's an exception, you have your first therapy appointment and he's back at work. you really don't want to be here, but it's the directors orders.

"miss y/n?" calls out the middle aged man, smiling kindly when you stand up and walk towards him.

"take a seat" he points towards the sofa across from his desk, taking a seat.

you hesitantly sit down, fiddling with your fingers and twisting the rings that lay on your fingers.

"so... how are you coping after what happened?" he just plainly asks out.

you scoff and look around, trying to find this guys degree.

"i'm fine. aren't you supposed to like, introduce yourself first and ask some other questions not relating to the reason i'm here?" you ask him.

your old best friend was a therapist, when she first started she practised a fake session with you, this isn't how it's supposed to go. besides, you went to therapy after you moms death, you didn't start discussing the matter at hand until your fourth session, at first it was just getting to know each other, discussing other matters in life.

he seems to freeze at your question, taking a while before answering.

"i find it better to skip introductions and get straight to the point. are you answering honestly when you say you're fine?" he questions, looking down at his notes.

"i find it quite rude that you haven't introduced yourself" you tell him.

"mark stewart" he tells you, keeping a straight face.

he reaches into his folder and pulls out a couple stapled pages, "this is a servey, you need to complete it" he tells you, handing you the paper and a pen.

you briefly look down at what he handed you, this has nothing to do with therapy at all or your well-being.

"i'll pass," you pass back the paper and pen, standing up, "i've been to therapy before and this," you point towards him, "isn't therapy. therapy is stupid and for people who think there's some way they can magically get better. news flash, i'm not going to get better by talking to someone i barely know" you protest, pulling open the door and leaving, hearing it slam behind you.

as you quickly walk out of the office you call a cab, heading home. you weren't cleared for driving or work so the only place you really can go is home and watch some tv.

ever since you got back you have these visions? they're more like memories of what happened in that warehouse and you can't stop them which is why you have to distract yourself from reality, fall into the universe of the medical show you're watching or the the university your book is set in.

**

spencer entering your apartment pulls you out of your book you're reading, it's interesting. it's called 'the perfectionists' by sara shepard. it's your type of murder mystery and you'd be lying if you were to say you weren't mad at spencer for interrupting your reading.

you gave spencer your spare key and told him he could come by after work. it was the only way you were able to convince him to actually go to work.

"hey, i brought food. how are you feeling? how was therapy? did you discus-" he starts rambling. asking a billion questions, not literally but it felt like it.

"woah, calm down soldier. i'm fine, therapy... didn't go well" you plainly state, sorting through the food and finding your container of fried rice.