Who do you run to?

by Autumnsonlyone

When you are abused, when you have nearly no hope left, when you get tired of the secrets, Who do you run to? Spike has to ask himself this question. I am rating this T but I may change the rating. Not sure yet!

1. Chapter 1

Author's note#1:

I don't own Flashpoint. If I did they would still filming new episodes. Please do not send me hate messages about my abuse of Spike in this story. Please read and review!

Who do you run to:

Prologue

Michaelangelo "Spike" Scarlatti stood in the bathroom of his parents house silently. His parents were fast asleep and he was trying to be as quiet as possible. He didn't want his mother coming in and seeing him, waking his father, or worse, calling Greg. That would not go well. He glanced behind him to make sure the door was shut and locked, then gingerly took off his shirt.

His chest, rib cage and back were a myriad of bruises and welts. His left arm had a deep looking cut on it that ran from elbow to wrist. He Should have really gone to the Emergency room to get it looked at and stitched up. But then it would have been reported to Commander Holleran and to Greg and Ed as well. His lip was split and swollen. No he couldn't take that chance.

He'd stitched himself up before, but this was out of his league. He knew a little bit of stitching, having learned on the fly after one particularly bad night. He found it useful in avoiding having to go to the Hospital. He didn't want anyone to know. He winced as he tried to take a deep breath and again as his lip split fresh.

He picked up his phone and shot off a text. There was ONE person he could trust to stitch this kind of cut up and not report it. He waited patiently for the reply which he knew would come. He looked at his sent text.

"I need you. Bad Sit. Need med. attnt."

After a couple minutes, his phone dinged with an incoming text. He looked at it and sighed.

"Can you drive? If so come to me. If not I will come to you." He smirked to himself.

"No. I can drive. Will meet you in 10. Love!"

He gathered a change of clothes, since he had to be in to Workout in a mere few hours. While he did that and packed his workout bag, he caught himself looking in the mirror. He was going to have to explain that black eye to The Boss when he got in. It didn't look too bad. He struggled not to cry. Tears would solve nothing. He dropped his weary body on the bed. He was so tired of being abused.

For a few minutes, Spike allowed himself to break down and cry.

Author's note:

So what do you all think? Should I continue? Please give me lovely reviews. They make my day as well as give me fuel for writing.