CHERRY FLAVOURED || Re-Write

TWELVE

tw: suicide

You were dreaming of rainbows and your mom and dad and a life beyond the one you woke up in everyday: a life spent alone but with support embracing you all around like a softly cushioned sofa, and bouts of love from you mother and father that resided on the planet, joyful and healthy. And one more: without Spencer Reid.

A life without Spencer Reid would mean happiness and the ability to wake up everyday glad that you'd be going to work. A life without Spencer Reid would mean being able to flirt with men and kiss men without someone spying on you because they were insecure. A life without Spencer Reid would mean sleeping with someone and having the person wish upon another chance with you.

A perfect life in a perfect world seemed glorious, but you woke up in the same miserable world hating yourself and wishing you could sleep forever.

Your feet ached and so did the rest of your body. Your back was pulsing and your head continued pushing bright lights to the forefront of your eyes. You shook your head violently to push the lights away but it only worsened.

"Fuck," you muttered. You placed your palms onto your eyes and tried to turn over, but a hand braced your bicep. Your eyes widened and you looked up to see Luke sitting beside you. In a park. On a bench. With an old man staring at you from six feet away.

"What the fuck," you whispered as you sat up. You placed both feet on the ground but instantly regretted it as pieces of glass dug deeper into your feet. You hissed and lifted them off the ground. On the cement there was blood dotting the once less-dirty gray cement. "Fucking hell..."

"Yeah, fucking hell. What happened last night, Doc?" Luke asked as he lifted your feet. He balanced them on his forearm and pulled out only the big pieces of glass. You hissed and threatened to kick him like a horse. You jerked and threw your head back but he apologized after every pull and every stream of unfinished blood from the night before. Once he pulled out all of the large pieces, he looked up at you with a worried expression and placed a hand on your thigh. "Do you remember what happened? We have to take you to the hospital to remove everything else but letting me know what happened could help a lot."

"No," you said, "it won't."

"Maybe it was on purpose."

You scoffed. The night was blurry but it was there enough for you to retell it. But telling Luke wasn't worth your time, so you lied. "A bottle fell and I walked over it." It was almost a complete lie, except you told him you dropped a bottle, which you did, and you walked over it, which you did. But you didn't tell him why, or where, or if you did it to spite anyone.

He drew in his eyebrows and his lips were slightly ajar, like he had thousands of questions on his tongue but didn't know which one to ask first. "You... dropped a bottle–"

"Yup."

"--And walked over it?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

You sighed and looked around at the park. Trees covered every corner and there was a pond with a small fountain in the center. To your left stood the old man and to your right there was a car waiting to swallow you. "If I tell you, you'd kill them."

"Them?" he asked. "Someone did this to you?"

You laughed. You placed a hand on his cheek and shook your head. Your fingers trotted back and forth across his cheek to settle him down, but he only seemed more angry. "Calm down, Hulk. This person didn't do it to me, but they influenced my decision."

"Who did it?"

"I was mad."

"Yeah, and?"

"And I was drinking."