ESCORT / spencer reid.

nine

     SPENCER STOOD frozen, his feet feeling like weights on Ivory's wooden floors. He watched her storm upstairs, the words being stolen from his mouth.

Did he do too much?

He gulped—reality sweeping him on his feet. Spencer didn't mean to take it that far—he didn't mean to say those things—but...he did.

The man felt a lump from in his throat, exhaling slowly as he felt the anger seep away from his veins, only being replaced by hurt and regret. He didn't mean it. He didn't mean to hurt her like that—he'd never want to do anything malicious to Ivory, yet he barely even thought about her feelings and just got irrationally angry.

But Spencer didn't know what to do—she was already gone, and she wasn't coming back. All he wanted to do was help her, but she didn't even want his help. She didn't want change, like his coworkers had warned him before. Why did he even try? Did he think that Ivory Arden would give up the life she had lived for six years to be with him? Spencer knew it wasn't that simple, as strong as the connection between them was. The pull wasn't strong enough when there was an obstacle between it.

Regardless, Spencer felt like complete shit as he walked out of her home, softly shutting the door behind him. He felt a little numb inside—his head spinning in circles that he felt his legs wobble a little.

Those bruises. The cut on her lip. It looked painful, and not right at all. It wasn't right, whatever these men were doing to her—and it terrified Spencer even thinking about it. To think about her all alone with some sick sadist; doing activities which were completely unheard of. It wasn't just sex; it was torture, and Spencer was sure of it.

He was so afraid. He was afraid of her getting hurt, that it made him angry, upset, horrified, and helpless all at the same time.

Because he cared for her—and she meant so much more to Spencer than she herself probably thought. Spencer couldn't disregard or ignore the fluttery feelings and aching for her whenever she was around. He really, really, liked her.

But she didn't care. Ivory Arden didn't like him back—and he was willing to accept it, as long as she was okay. Because that was all he wanted; for her to be happy and safe. Ivory deserved that, more than she, and the rest of the world thought she did.

Spencer Reid wasn't about to give up on her until she was finally okay.

/

"Hey...I'm—uh, I'm sorry for what I said to you the other night—I-I'm just worried because did you know, 1/3 women don't usually report the sexual abuse going on in their lives? If we're looking at it in a ratio standpoint, there are 100 females per 105 males, thus about 33.3 females—and looking at that from a worldwide count, that would be about 210,200,000 women that keep to themselves, and although that doesn't take in account the statistics for children, who still have a 10.6% lower chance of sexual abuse than young and beautiful women like you, and also the elder population who generally will have a lower percentage, but I'm sure you already knew that."

Ivory let out a sigh, staring at her phone which Spencer's soothing voice rang out from. She had woken up to his call, but didn't pick it up; he left the lovely voicemail for her when she didn't. Yeah, his rambling made her heart flutter annoyingly—it always did. But the fact was, Spencer Reid was victimizing her when she clearly was doing this to herself—she didn't want his help, nor pity.

She was fine. She didn't need help. Ivory gulped down the lump in her throat, letting out a shaky breath when she closed her eyes, thinking of all the men who've hurt her while she was escorting. Sometimes it was terrifying, but Ivory told herself she was okay, and that she could take anything. It even made her feel powerful and strong—although inside, she felt like a sick puppy wanting to run.