Enough For You || Spencer Reid

eighteen

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'How is it so easy for you to be kind to people he asked

Milk and honey dripped from my lips as i answered

Cause people have not been kind to me' - rupi kaur

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'you were so afraid of my voice i decided to be afraid of it too'

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TW: child abuse, pedophilia, r***, of a child. (not gone into detail, I'm not here to cater to old pedophiles on the internet)

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Marie

GROWING UP, OUR FATHERS are meant to be the first loves of our life. They are meant to dote on us, and treat us like precious little flowers, because that's what we are. No, not flowers, but we are precious, innocent, little children. Fathers are meant to preserve the innocence of their child, not take it away from them when they have no power to stop it.

Growing up, our mothers are meant to be the light. The light we hold onto for dear life, because without light, what are we? Nothing, we become the darkness in another. We don't know what love feels like without a mother, for men are told not to show emotion, to not show you care. For that is society, we hold onto women like objects and treat men like they are kings simply because they exist. Those who feel like they cannot conform to society's norms, are cast aside and thrown away like yesterday's trash.

The sounds of the door could be faintly heard under the music Marie had been playing, and with that, the music was stopped. Jumping from her bed, she rushed to pull out her headphones, as the footsteps drew closer and she threw the walkman into her bin. Running back to her bed, as quietly as she could, Marie pretended to be asleep. It was her only option. Sleep and have a lower chance of the second option, or the second option, let her father defile her while her mother pretends she cannot hear, because what is she meant to do? Marie could never tell you if her mother was in love, or lived in fear. She could understand fear, but she could not understand the failure to call the police, anybody really.

Marie would whisper 'Help me' after each 'session' and yet nobody came to help. Until she was balancing on the last petal of her innocence. By the age of 16, Marie's feet were filled with bruises, enough to match the rest of her body. Dancing was her only escape, but was it really an escape? Parents are meant to be interested in their kids' enjoyment of simple things are they not? Interested is not the word Marie wanted to use. He was obsessed, her father. Obsessed with the leotards, the outfits, the moves, everything. She had managed to keep her little brother safe, but she wasn't really concerned to be honest. Her father only liked the female body. It no longer surprised her the countless women she heard coming into the house, even with her dying mother in the other room. Sometimes she heard cries like her own, cries for help. Others were more willing.

"Marie, what are you doing?"

Her brother was her only lifeline, and in order to help him, she had to help herself. At the age of 16, Marie ran away. She never did come back. Her brother was safer with their father, even with the things he did to her, he would never touch him. He would be safe. She had little to no money, she had nothing except the things she stole from her room, and the clothes on her back. Her brother would at least have a roof over his head, a roof only safe for another man, not for any woman.

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At the age of 17, Marie met a boy. Not a boy, a man. A man who she thought for once, could teach her the meaning of love. This man loved another. They talked for hours after she had met him, but he rushed out as soon as he got a message from who he then told her was 'the love of his life.'

Years later, when Marie turned 20, she was okay. Until she saw this man, yet again. An audition for a ballet. Something she had grown to love, for it showed that her father was no longer there to watch. She had the reign of her own life. Not good living arrangements, still bouncing around in motels, not enough to save her brother, but she had control over who she was and what she did with her body.

This man was her obsession. The love he once had, was gone. Marie had been ecstatic. Now was her chance, except it wasn't. No matter how hard she tried, the man refused to love her. Her mother had never been one to be present in her life, and Marie had been okay with that. Until she believed she had fallen in love.

Marie had been Christian Walker's downfall, and he would never truly know it. The whispered doubts, the subtle insecurities, they were all Marie. For that is what love is, correct? Lies, manipulation, anything to get what we want? It is what her father had taught her with his 'love.'

Eventually, Marie was just like her father. One night, once again, they were 'both' drunk. Marie had a bit to drink, but Christian was fully out of it. You can infer where our story goes from here. Drunken 'mistakes.' The uttered, "this can't happen again." Christian Walker had missed the scowl on Marie's face that morning.

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Christian knew nothing. The FBI knew nothing. Jack knew nothing. The perks of being a woman, is it not? Everybody believes you to be this delicate flower, no longer as innocent, but more innocent than any man. Plant a few doubts, use the man with psychotic tendencies. You get murder, you get blood. You get what you want. Marie's plan backfired when Jack confessed. He told Dr. Spencer Reid everything. The fire had been his fault, yes, but truthfully, he had just been killing the villain all along. Marie was the villain of the story, Jack just pulled the story along. Made it real.

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gonna be honest, this was sort of the plan all along? i just didn't know i wanted to go about it. this whole book is based about insecurities people have within different types of relationships and about how we can either overcome our trauma or let it take us over.

THIS IS NOT MEANT TO BLAME MARIE FOR ANYTHING THAT HAPPENED TO HER IN HER CHILDHOOD, IF AT ANY POINT IN MY WRITING, IT SOUNDS LIKE THAT, PLEASE TELL ME AND I WILL REPHRASE IT OR DELETE IT ALL TOGETHER.

i love you all, thank you for waiting if you have, and thank you for 38k reads