When a young girl stumbles into the arms of Spencer Reid in a local police station, she is panting and terrified. And after being held captive for ten years, she is mute and very skeptical of her world around her. Can Spencer teach her to trust agai...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Content warnings: talks of abuse, selective mutism, implications of child sexual assault, implications of assault, talks of captivity. [let me know if i miss anything]
You could've taken my statement and turned it into a book. I told them every single detail, no matter how tiny, of what happened to me. It took me hours to get through it, and Spencer was there the entire time.
He was quiet, watching me type out and describe the last ten years of my life. I heard him suck in a sharp breath a few times as I went into detail about the way Cal touched me. But I didn't even flinch. As I typed I pretended that this happened to someone else, a fictional character I'd created. It helped me heal when it was happening. It helped me disassociate from the pain.
When I was done, I put my hands in my lap and shyly looked over at him. In a way, it felt good that someone besides me knew what happened. It was all written out for anyone to read. And I knew many people would read it. Spencer's entire team would, the jury, anyone listening to the trial. And I knew it would be talked about. What he did to me was, for lack of a better term, vial. Not ever something a twelve year old should go through.
Spencer's eyes quickly scanned the page, eyes growing wider as he read for mistakes. While with Cal, he never continued my education. And why would he? Instead, he filled my mind with talks of the end of the world. He tried to tell me that he was meant to save me. That my parents weren't doing their jobs correctly and he was my angel.
I could still feel his hands on me sometimes. Rough and calloused, sometimes blistered. I didn't really know what he did to make his hands look like that. As I grew older, though, I had some suspicious. Snatching girls over the age of 6 wasn't easy. And tying them up as they squirmed and kicked was harder.
I never spoke to any of the girls he brought down to 'keep me company'. Most of the time I would nod or hold them as they sobbed in my arms. Or hold their hand while he 'examined' them. I played house while staying silent.
"You did so good, Daisy. I'm proud of you." He shot me a sympathetic smile my way. One I'd seen a lot of in the past week. "Are you hungry? Do you need anything?"
He hadn't left my side since I ran into him. I was grateful. He could almost literally read my mind and was my voice in the hospital. He gave them any information I gave and made sure no man came near me. He was soft and made me feel safe. I worried a lot about what I would do when he was forced to no longer speak with me.
'Hungry' I signed. 'Tired also.'
He was kind enough to let me sleep in his spare room while we looked for my parents. I still hadn't given a name, still too terrified to reveal who I was. Garcia assured me it was okay. She also made me feel safe. Her colourfulness and kindness easing my pounding heart. She was Spencer, just female form and less nervous.
"Have you ever had Chinese food? I know a good place close to the apartment. We can order and pick it up on our way home?" he smiled at me as he spoke.
My heart raced at the term 'home'. I hadn't heard that word in a safe context in ten years. So, hearing it from him, nearly brought tears to my eyes every time. I know it sounds silly, considering it wasn't actually home. But I didn't care.
"Please," I murmured quietly to him. I watched as his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.
His jaw dropped, "you-i- you just spoke." It was clear he hadn't heard my 'promise' remark. "Oh my god you just spoke to me." I could tell that he was doing his best to not freak out. But he was sort of failing. It was cute and it made me giggle a little.
I nodded as a huge smile stretched across his reddening face. "I think I'm going to cry? Why am I crying?" His eyes welled up and I felt as if my heart was going to explode. It made me feel good that he cared so much about my progress. I was slowly learning that speaking didn't mean punishment. That with him I was free to use my voice. But old habits die hard and I was still afraid I would say something that could set him off.
But sitting there, watching him tear up over a simple word, made me realize that there would never be a word that would set him off. Nothing I could ever say would make him so angry that it warranted abuse. He was safe. He was trustworthy. And I vowed to speak to him more often.
