AN: This is NOT at all what I usually write, deals with serious substance abuse. Never did a drug in my life, but heard such horror-- please stay away from drugs. What if Reid remained an addict, spiraled into worse things? Based on the Hinder video, too (Thanks, Ryan).
He was waiting, waiting for the hit. His skin was itching, crawling and creeping painfully along every inch of his body. Each nerve was overcharged, like he was struck by lightning. He dug his nails into his forearms and scraped, drawing blood, causing pain to counteract that hideous itching. The worst part was: he had no one to blame but himself. And he was clean for almost a week! But he couldn't end this; it all came back to haunt him after that last case.
He stood there, in an average suburban mall. He thought about how no one would believe that this is where he met his dealer. Most people thought that dealers were met on the street corners in shady areas of busy metropolitan cities. Who would have dreamt that less than a block from where kids were playing in an indoor megaplex, he was scoring what was going to save him from suicide?
He had seen too much, been through too much. It was too much, this life of his. He tried to rationalize the pain that he had, to think his way out of the aching in his soul. But he couldn't do it this time, no matter how hard he tried. It fucking pissed him off; he could usually think his way out of anything, anytime. He was the smartest person on the team. He wasn't being vain; it was a given. IQ off the charts.
So, why was he so weak and stupid about this?
He hurried home to his dirty, unkempt apartment. He didn't give a damn about how it looked, what it had going on. He didn't give a damn how HE looked. All that mattered to him was he got his hit. He folded a piece of tin foil and put it on the burner of the stove, making a little pan for his treasure. Gently, he poured the content of the packet into the handmade container. It started to liquefy, and he gained hope that this pain would go away. He leaned forward and inhaled.
Immediately, the rush hit him. It was exhilarating. It was terrifying. But he knew now that he would have it, that utter endless blankness that made him feel empty. Made his mega brain stop for just a goddamned moment.
That was by far the most important thing: it made him forget.
The team. They'd understand. They'd help him get into treatment. They'd stand by him one-hundred percent. They'd support him.
Tomorrow. Yeah. Maybe.
They'd forgive him, much more than he could ever forgive himself.
Leaning forward to take another numbing hit, he came to a realization. They deserve much better than me.
