Rating: T
Warnings: Mentions of self harm and bullying
Mentions:Clark Kent (Smallville)
Couple:J\Reid
Hello, If you are reading this please review and tell me if I should continue or review and tell me if my writing sucks. The timeline is off in this story so trying to peice together one is not a good idea, basically Spencer is around 16 (and a half?) and JJ is 16. If you think I should mention other members of the team please tell me so, and this is my first Criminal Minds story so tell me if the charecters are off.
Save Me, I'm Broken - Chapter 1- Two Recluses
HER POV:
I didn't cut for the rush, or adrenalin. No, matter what people tell you about me, absolutely nobody would ever consider me a junky. Although, is suppose that my cutting in a way does relate to Gillian's heroin addiction, too much and your grip on reality dances away, too little and you will be forced to face it. 7 letters, reality, too small for the deaths, misery and destruction it causes, too small to imply the ferocity of the word.
Loneliness, everyone's disease, mine in particular, 10 letters. I like the word, not the pain it causes but the word it's strong and the word drips misery. Now, reality causes many species of pain, loneliness is its second in command. Loneliness can inflict so much pain, it can break people, so far that they can't be put back together, or that there's nobody to put them back together.
Why did Pandora open the box? She was diseased too, just like the defected race of humans occupying the world now. Curiosity, 9 letters, A two faced creature of evil, a double sided coin, a whirr of confusion driven by determination. Yet sometimes that determination, if not driven so recklessly is exactly what saves us in the end.
I watch as the cool metal blade separates my skin, as the blood leaks out a tiny sliver of pain shoots through my arm. I relish the feeling; it makes me feel like someone is there. I really don't know how else to explain it. It makes me feel like I'm different, like I'm not so alone anymore. I watch with glazed eyes as the dark, shining droplets roll from my scarred wrist, they crawl across my pale skin, looking like they were dragging themselves from my body, as repulsed by it as I am. I turned to look in the mirror, my pale skin was unblemished, but the rings under my eyes made them look dead and my pin straight, short hair looked lifeless and boring. I accidentally ate a bag of chips yesterday and my stomach was bloated. I looked horrible, fat, I looked like a shadow, I always faded into the background.
The blood roll from my wrist, the red droplets crawl across my skin like the demons they are, leaving a drying stain behind them, I loved this part. The beads left my wrist and pierced the air before they fell to the tiled white floor. Leaving a small layer of me as a perfectly circular red stain, I shake my arm a bit, to get that frenzied styled pattern that I want. For a second everything stops. Melts away, all the anger, the frustration, the pain, just stops, a soft feeling of numbness settles over me and I sigh, enjoying the moment.
I don't know how long I stand there, just feeling nothing but eventually my thoughts come back and crash like waves against my head, signaling that I have to get back to earth, to reality. This time the sigh is of regret, I should have cut deeper. I bring my wrist to my mouth lightly kissing the serated flesh before kneeling down onto the cool, now spotted, white tile hastily wiping up my blood, setting the blade back into the pocket in my bag I look again in the mirror with distain.
'Ugly'
HIS POV:
He hung there shivering in the wind, eyes tightly closed in concentration.
'"Hey" crowed a chipper voice,
"My tutoring spaces are only between Wednesday and Friday, if you missed them I'm sorry but I can't make space anywhere else" giggle,
"No someone wants to meet you outside" wink,
"Excuse me?" confusion,
"She is like, exited don't like, make her wait" Gulp, his footsteps on gravel, trailing his hand on the paint,
"Well, well if it isn't boy wonder, you made me look bad up there, gotta D on my speech" fear rushing through his veins, stumbling back, twisting his ankle.
"And you've ticked off more than a couple people in this school" Sharp pain in his foot, shiver running up his spine.
"I-I didn't mean too" frenzied mind, searching for exits.
"Well, you did, now you have to learn about the consequences" He knew what was coming, his breathing sped up, giant arms with bulging muscles grabbed his small frame and lifted him up to another pair of rough arms.
"Don't you ever show me up again" Thin ropes found their way around his small wrists. He wasn't struggling.
"Please don't" A small gasp escaped his mouth as the ropes were pulled tighter.
"What was that twit?" He hung he head down in shame as his clothing was taken.
"My mum needs me to be there" Pleading, Begging.
"Well to bad for your psycho mother, she shouldn't even be allowed in public!" A rush of anger shot through his veins but he knew it was useless to act on it considering the guy was three times his size, he watched as some more people joined the ever growing crowd.
– (Flashback ends)
He closed his eyes tighter; it wouldn't stop replaying in his mind. He could hear people walking away getting bored with him. His eyes hurt being so tightly shut so long, he was trying to delete the memory from his mind but he could still hear the voices playing. He heard a metallic crash and wearily opened his eyes to see a tall blond teenager setting a ladder by the side of the goal post where he was strung up. He frowned as she started to climb, duffel bag swinging by her side, why did she wait until the crowd disappeared to laugh at him or insult him like the rest of them?
She reached up to tighten the ropes, he was shocked when his right hand fell to his side and she leaned over him to start on his left hand. He really couldn't help getting distracted by her breasts in the process, since they were right in front of his eyes, she stood a bit higher on the ladder and he could swear that she was teasing him on purpose. He was still staring when she stopped for a second, thinking, before wrapping his limp arms around her neck and picking up his feet with one hand. She really was quite strong for such a small person; he watched dazed as the ground came closer and closer, mind whirring was to what it was that she was trying to do.
She descended down the rungs, dropping her duffel bag to the ground. She grasped a brown blanket from her bag and set it on the ground over the wet grass. He felt his body being lowered onto the ground, in sitting position on top of the fuzzy blanket, she reached up and detached his arms from her neck and took another blanket from the bag, wrapping his pale legs in it, seeing how cold he was. She sat cross legged before him, looking at him for a second before pulling a silver canister and two cups out of her seemingly bottomless bag.
"Hot chocolate" she explained pouring it into the cup.
"I'm sorry I waited so long, I'm not good with crowds and I had to get the ladder and blankets" I remained unresponsive and stared at the cup, it seemed foreign.
"I've seen you in class, since you're a grade ahead of me we only have one class together, I thought I was the only one with a brain at this school" she nudged the cup towards him.
"Obviously you proved me wrong….. I skipped three grades… you skipped four was it? Very impressive" she silenced for a moment before awkwardly continuing "What university are you going to?" She looked nervous, twiddling her thumbs and jiggling her leg. I coughed,
"I'm thinking of going into the FBI.. They have a particular unit, the BAU… Be-" I croaked, my voice cracking more than once, she smiled and finished my sentence.
" -havioral Analysis Unit, I was planning on going there too, not as a profiler but as a media adviser, I don't think I would want to be ON the press but this job seems to have a bit of the press combined with an FBI edge, kind of like my ideal job….. Sorry, I'm rambling" She apologized.
"So, what happened to you" she searched, I swallowed, explaining would bring back a lot of newly repressed memories, but there was something about this girl that made me want to tell her everything.
"As you said, I skipped a couple years, and these guys really don't understand the meaning of schizophrenic." I spat in resentment.
"Oh, I'm sorry, are you-" she started, worry forming in her eyes, clouding her vision of me, I cut her off, this really wasn't a subject I feel comfortable on but I trusted her.
"No, my-my mother is, and I work hard, those things and the fact that I'm a twig compared to the football players make me the subject for most of the bulling in this school" she reached out and touched my arm, a comforting gesture, and an unfamiliar shock ran though my body, starting at my head and not quite reaching my feet
"I'm sorry, they shouldn't use your mothers illness against you" I'm really glad for the blanket now, this would have been a lot more uncomfortable if I was naked, she smiled in thought,
"Hey, you know what you reminded me of?" she questioned I shift a bit, wasn't the man supposed to comfort the woman not the other way around? A loud voice rung out in my head, way to go Spencer, you're a sexist now!, another whispered, I didn't mean it that way, I just meant it in thought, I wouldn't express it out loud!, I continued internally arguing with myself as J.J finishes,
"-Clark Kent." I stare at her blankly, her face contorts into disbelief, "You have no idea who Clark Kent is do you?" I shake my head, my mind races though all the names I have heard in the last couple months, no avail, I have never heard of such a name.
"Superman, Clark Kent is his 'secret' identity" I stare at her, confused,
"How do I remind you of a super hero?" I quiz bizarrely, she just smiles her sweet smile and explains;
"There is this one scene, the first episode of the first season when Clark gets tied to a scarecrow post and left there" She stares off behind me, looking at the goalpost, I'm just lost now "Well, you were in the same stance as him, hands tied, head dangling" Total blankness, I have never heard of this show. She stands up, reaching for my hand.
"Do you want to go home now?" She pulls me up, I wrap my hand around hers, not letting go, enjoying the shocks running through my slim body. Suddenly, her sight was pulled downwards and her arm lashes out, her navy blue nails pressed against my narrow hips. Confused, I look down to see that her hand is the only thing keeping the brown blanket in place, a dark blush blossoms on her cheeks. My hand lands gracefully over hers and for a second we just look at each other. I notice a bit of sallowness to her complexion and her hair is exactly pin straight, limp.
Worried that she's sick my eyes trail down to her arms, too thin for a healthy body, finishing at her hand as she extracts it, I see a glace of something. When she turned her hand, a jagged row of white lines, I wonder what I saw; she swallows uncomfortably and points to her car at the edge of the field. She packs up her stuff in silence, pulling out a pair of sweatpants for me to put on, I frown as I see the bright pink 'JUICY' logo on the back but pull them on anyway.
She throws the bag in the back of her tank sized 'Ford Flex' and climbs in the front, I follow her in and stare at the houses passing by, murmuring instructions as we drive through the streets. I didn't mean to seem rude, but my mind was whirring, trying to shift together the pieces of what I saw on her wrist. She pulls up into the driveway and looks at me, I give up, my mind rationally explaining that it was probably just dust.
"I'll see you around." She states, although I can hear a bit of a question mark at the end, I just smile, nodding to her as I step out. She gives me one last smile before it flat lines in concentration as she tries to guide the giant car out of the miniature driveway. I watch as the car drives away, the door creaks alerting me to the presence of my mother. She stands, looking ashen in the doorway, I give a tiny smile and walk up the decrepit steps, taking her hand to guide her back inside, and she looks at me in alarm,
"What are you doing?" She yells, eyes fluttering in distress. My smile fades as I try to remind her who I am,
"It just Spencer mum, Just your son" I reassure her but she still looks at me in panic,
"No, you're not! My son is seven, you liar!" She accuses me. I can feel the neighbors stares piecing my back and I take her inside she suddenly goes blank, letting go of my hand, her limp arm sags by her side, she starts wanders back to her room with light footing as if not to wake someone, I can hear her whisper a soft "Goodnight Spencer" to my door as she walks by.
I can feel the searing tears prodding at my eyes as I walk into my cracker box room, dropping to the floor, knees spread and head bowed as I cry. My own mother didn't notice that it was 2:00 in the morning and I was wearing girl's sweatpants. The only thought that rests another army tears threatening to overflow is the memory of the soft smile and reassuring eyes that belong to a certain blond teenager. I flop onto the bed curling into fetal position, the sweet smile glowing in I mind, knowing what I would dream about tonight.
Spelling errors? Gramatical errors? Character errors?
Please review!
-TQH