in which you have a nightmare, and spencer helps you fall back to sleep. he's so sweet, isn't he?
trigger warning: some graphic description of a dead body, and some yelling. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
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.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
her body was beaten to a bloody pulp, with vertical gashes ripping the chocolate skin from her neck to her belly. her eyes were rolled back in her head, fingernails jagged and caked with dirt, and lips bitten raw. she was dead, and it was your fault.
"great job, look what you did!"
"this happened because of you!"
"i can't believe you made this big of a mistake!"
the team's hatred swam in your ears as you stared at her lifeless body. into the silence of the rusted warehouse you screamed your throat raw, but no sound escaped; you shouted back at hotch and derek and emily that it was a mistake, told rossi you never meant to do this, begged jj to forgive you for this, but nobody heard it. they just kept screaming at you.
"you don't deserve this job. you're just as bad as the killers we catch." spencer spat, looking at you with nothing but disgust in his big eyes- eyes that used to love what he saw, but don't anymore.
broken, you tried to squeak out a, "spence, please," but your voice was gone.
you cradled the girl in your arms and cried, watching the team that once cared leave you for dead.
this was on you, and you will never be able to bring her back.
"anyone! please! help! help! somebody listen to me! i never meant for this to happen!"
"hey, woah, woah, woah! baby, wake up! shh, it's okay, wake up,"
eyes snapping open with shock, you were met with a concerned gaze from spencer. you let out a thick sigh, reaching up to wipe your brow and finding the tired skin drenched in sweat. you were breathing heavily, and your hands were shaking like you'd just been through hell. guess you had been, in a way.
"you were having a nightmare." spencer stayed the obvious, and in an irritated reaction you rolled your eyes. he pouted with concern, to which you just sighed apologetically and squeezed his hand.
"yeah, i was."
"are you okay?" he seemed so thrown by you, rubbing abstract patterns into the palms of your hands anxiously and never letting his gaze fall from that shaken frame. he was always the scared one, never you. it made you feel bad for making him worry.
