Rating: T for drug use
Summary: He just wants to forget.
He remembers how Tobias' body was still warm when he reached into his pocket and removed the two small vials of Dilaudid. He tries not to think about it, about that one decision that he knows he shouldn't have made. He knows that he should have let the glass lie in the pocket of the dead man and try to forget that it had ever happened.
But that was the problem.
He couldn't forget.
Spencer doubted that even without his eidetic memory, the three days he was stuck in that shed with Tobias would be crystal clear forever, permanently etched in his mind like some etching in a cave, his brain permanently scarred from the trauma. But he knew, he knew one way to forget.
Every time Tobias injected him with Dilaudid, he could escape what was going on, he could leave where he was; the statistics stopped, the probabilities and facts halted; his mind stopped swirling like a tornado of information, and he was allowed to just simply exist, just for the time being. The flashbacks were sometimes unpleasant—he didn't really want to think about the day he had his mother committed to Bennington, or the day that his father walked out, but there were other memories, memories of his mother reading to him, memories of before the schizophrenia got to the point where he knew he would have to have her committed.
And when the memories stopped playing like an old film reel in his head and he drifted back into awareness, he was still floating, still simply existing. He was in a place where he didn't have to think, didn't have to remember, and that place was beautiful.