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｡･:*:★,｡･:*:･☆SPENCER REID (talk of drug addition, drug abuse, depression, trauma ...basically just really sad shit lol)
BY THE END OF THE DAY I WAS released from the hospital with a couple of stitches in my shoulder. Turns out, the bullet had only grazed my arm but it still bled a lot. And especially since the painkillers I'd taken had mostly worn off by now, it was beginning to ache more.
When the nurse offered to give me Methdone to relieve some of the pain, my heart began pounding and I almost felt sick inside. I was disgusted, because for a full five seconds I was...excited. It'd been three days since I'd used, but I'd been too busy to really pay attention to any withdrawal symptoms I might've been feeling. I think I'd just been too distracted by Lilac.
I couldn't deny the fact that Lilac was making me feel like I should start trying to get clean. I loved her because she made me forget, just like that drug did. And I knew it sounded like I'd been using her to cope, but I wasn't. Ever since we'd gotten close, all I ever thought about was how much I wanted to make her happy. I wanted to make her as loved and treasured as she made me feel at times.
Which was why I was also scared, today. Because I realized how much I'd screwed up with Lilac, once I saw her face go white after pulling the trigger. She was just a college student—even if she was months away from graduating, she wasn't anywhere near mentally prepared for that as I was. And yet, Lilac handled the situation in the most clever way possible—she was smart and observant, but I'd already known that from watching her in my class.
But words still could not explain how scared and guilty I felt for her. I wondered how much this was going to impact her for the next few months—killing someone was a big deal, even if it was for the right reason. I'd already planned a list of things to help her cope, like therapy or groups, but I knew that I could only do so much. If I could turn back time and never invite her onto his case, I would've.
I was just so excited having her with me, that I slowly forgot her role in the case. She wasn't supposed to be interviewing victims, and that one was on me. And because of that, Lilac grew a bond with Dove and had to see her die. And on top of that, she had to shoot someone.
But something about the look in her eyes as she did it—her stance and how focused she looked—made me think that this wasn't the first time she'd shot a gun.
But Lilac didn't like guns. She'd told me numerous times now—meaning that something most likely had happened in her past involving a gun. And I knew that shooting someone today with one probably made some unwanted memories come back.
It was a lot of trauma for one person to handle in the span of a few days.
Even worse, I could already see her going through the stages of it all. Right now, she was in denial—shoving it into the back of her mind and pretending that it didn't even happen. Lilac wasn't going to breakdown in front of me until I got her to.
