His first moments of awareness were pain and panic; blinding, searing pain that burned through his torso and an all-encompassing panic at being held down and restricted in an unfamiliar place. Instinctually he tried to claw at the encumbrances holding him down, on his arms, his face, his chest and in doing so was met with a white hot bolt of agony that took his breath away and submerged him back into the depths of unconsciousness.
The next time there was less pain, but the claustrophobia was more intense. Here in this dark ominous place he felt chained. No worse than that: unable to see anything he was certain he was locked into a casket underground unable to escape. His breathing escalated and he knew if he couldn't control the hyperventilation he would run out of oxygen faster, using up whatever resources he had before he eventually died. He couldn't control it: he was too confused and too tired to fight his instincts anymore. The panic won again and he began frantically clawing at his surroundings, thrashing and attempting to scream but no sound came out: the worst possible kind of nightmare turned reality.
The pain and sensations were so real however he couldn't fully believe it was only a nightmare and confirming this out of the dark hands were grabbing him and holding him down, forcing him to remain in this miserable place without any chance of escape or freedom. The harder he thrashed the harder they held and the more exhausted his overtaxed and underfed body became. Who was he fighting for? What reasoning drove humanity to fight for survival under all circumstances? He thought of Maeve; he thought of Tobias: he thought about his mother. So many failures, so many stories rewritten and ended because of him. He wonders if she will even be aware he is gone, he hopes she never knows. Images slide in and out of focus, and he can feel the anxiety building as the pain starts to crescendo, and wishes for the one thing that has truly possessed his body and mind over the past three years.
He knows he's hallucinating in this hellhole when at the point he's sure his heart will explode from hammering so hard and so fast in his chest, when he's certain the end is near and the pain is so unbearable he can hear his own screams echoing inside his head and then the one thing he needs is coursing through his veins… leading him back into glorious drugged oblivion. Oh dilaud; my dime store heroin fix carry me home. There is nothing left to ground him and he allows himself to just give up. The one thing Spencer Reid has never done before.