People say that talking/writing about it helps. Well, here goes nothing..
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Pairing:Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Warning: rape/non-con
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"Y/N, wake up, baby." You heard a distant voice say and felt a hand on your shoulder, shaking you to wake you up and another hand running down the sides of your face, pushing your hair back behind your ear.
Internally you wanted to wanted to die. For a moment it felt like you were back there, that it wasn't just a flashback in your dream.
The hand running down the sides of your face felt exactly like his hand did and the hand shaking you suddenly felt more like it held you down, stopped you from struggling against him.
The tears overspilled a long time ago but they were silent. You didn't sob. You couldn't give him the satisfaction of him hearing you breaking.
In your thoughts you're back in the bed, your hands handcuffed above your head, secured to the headboard. The hand on your face, so lovingly running down the side of it as if it's the most precious thing he's ever touched. The other hand holding your right shoulder down, stopping you from struggling. Your left shoulder already to painful to effectively struggle.
You feel his breath on your face, hear the dirty things he whispers in your ear. The promises of making a real woman out of you at age thirteen.
He whispers in your ear all the time. Telling you that he loves you, that this isn't wrong. That he's allowed to do it, because you dressed to provocatively with your oversized gray hoodie and loose gray sweats. His weight on your body is unbearable. It feels like you're suffocating.
In the distant you hear another voice. It's not the voice of your attacker. The voice is smooth, calm and reassuring. Not rough and smoky, like your attacker's.
The smooth voice is getting closer and closer but you can't make out what it's saying. To lost in the memory to make out the words of reassurance that are being said.
The hand comes back to your shoulder, this time shaking your left shoulder. It doesn't hurt although it should hurt because why isn't it hurting? You didn't struggle with your left shoulder because it was to painful, so why isn't it hurting now when everything seems like it's happening?
Slowly you begin to realize that you're not in his bed and that your hands aren't handcuffed to the bedpost. The weight of another body you felt isn't there and the dirty things aren't whispered inside your ear. The hand on your shoulder doesn't belong to your attacker. It belongs to your boyfriend.
You shoot up in your boyfriend's bed and feel his eyes, filled with concern on your back. You don't look at him though, you keep looking at the wall right in front of you, studying how it looks in the dark with only the moonlight shining into the room.
The tears continue to stream down your face, silently. You refuse to let out the sob that's at the back of your throat. Even though you're in your boyfriend's bed and only you two are here, you're not willing to let the sob out because that would make it real and as long as the sob doesn't come out, it's not real. All the flashbacks and the things you're feeling. Your emotions. They aren't real when the sob stays where it is and the tears silently stream down your face.
You hear Spencer's voice behind you, talking softly to you, reassuring you that you're in his room and safe, that you're not where you thought you were just moments ago. You're glad that he's reassuring you and trying to offer you comfort, safety and protection. You're especially glad that he's a profiler.
You're not glad that he probably already figured out what your flashback was about but you're glad that he keeps his distance and doesn't try to coddle you.
He realizes that you need space, knows that you'll turn around as soon as you're ready to face him. Deep down you both know that you'll never be able to face him but you can't sit there and stare at the wall for the rest of your life.
A quick glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand tells you that it's only 1:32 am. The red light mockingly shining at you, reminding you of another kind of red.
The blood that ran down your thighs and onto the sheet when he finished had a similar color. When you stood up to get dressed, the blood continued to run down, not stopping. It ran down to your ankles where it was a clear red. Between your thighs it was red blood mixed with his white sperm, making everything feel sticky and making yourself feel even more disgusted at yourself for letting it happen, for not being able to stop it. For letting such a brute take your virginity, your innocence, at the age of thirteen and the sob that you desperately tried to hold back the whole time came out and suddenly it was real all over again. The pain was back again, you feel him move inside of you, orgasm inside of you. You feel his saliva running down your neck, mixed with a little blood from where he bit you to hard, hoping it would make you scream but it didn't. Nothing made you scream. You weren't willing to give him that kind of satisfaction but now all you want to do is scream and cry and just let it all out.
You let your head fall back, agony all over your face and you expected to hit the pillow with your head, just like every other time but now you didn't hit a pillow. Your head hit a solid chest which you instantly recognized as your boyfriend's which made you lay on his chest, your whole body tensed.
The safety, warmth and protection that just his chest offered helped you through the seemingly never ending pain. He laid there, not moving a muscle, breathing as shallowly as he could to not scare you with to much chest movement.
You both laid there for a minute, two minute, five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes and suddenly an hour was over. You didn't move though. The pain may have went away over thirty minutes ago but it means nothing when the memory of it is fresh in mind, as if it just happened minutes ago and not years ago.
After another twenty minutes of you two just laying there, not moving a muscle, you sat yourself up, leaning against the bedpost and Spencer did the same, looking at you with loving eyes.
He obviously wanted you to talk about it and you could see in his eyes how much he wanted to take you into his arms and protect you from the rest of the world, never letting you go. But he didn't. He patiently sat there and waited for you to be ready to start talking which is one of the reasons you fell for Spencer and allowed yourself to trust a man again after your attack.
He wasn't like other men. He was patient, caring and understanding. He never forced you to do something, he respected your and treated you like the center of his world. But most importantly, he knew and respected the meaning of the word 'no'. No matter in what situation, if he feels or sees that you're uncomfortable, he stops whatever he's doing and helps you be comfortable again.
"Baby?" He softly asked, no judgment or whatsoever in his voice, just pure love and reassurance.
"I-I" You tried to form a sentence but the tears were streaming down your face again, holding you back from forming a sentence. He just looked reassuringly at you which made you cry even more.
Tears of anger and frustration were now rolling down your cheeks too. Frustration at not being able to form a sentence and anger at him for being so him and at yourself for being so weak and allowing him to see this weakness.
"Y/N, it's alright. Calm down, baby, it's alright." He reassured you and all your anger at him disappeared when you turned your head to look at him and were met with the sight of his hazel eyes looking warm-heartedly at you.
You moved closer towards him and he welcomed you with open arms, offering you protection and a loving smile on his face. You accepted his embrace and laid your head down on his chest again, right over his heart. He wordlessly held you, calming you effectively down with his steady heartbeat.
"Do you want to talk about it, love?" He calmly asked and you shook his head against his chest.
"It wasn't really a request, Y/N and you know that," he sighed, "I'm not saying that I know what you feel like right now or what you went through but I saw it so many times that's it hard to not recognize it when it comes to the person I love."
"I'll probably never understand what it feels like because I never experienced it myself but I heard different stories from so many girls and women, even boys and men, that I can imagine what it feels like and I understand why you don't want to talk about it."
"You do?" You quietly muttered into his chest.
"I do, Y/N. No one wants to talk about it because they're ashamed that they couldn't stop it and let it happen. They blame theirselves for what happened when in reality they had no fault at all. The fault always lies by the person who committed the rape, the rapist, and never the victim."
"Logically I know that, Spence, but society tells you that it's your fault for not struggling hard enough, for not stopping it and being weak enough to let it happen."
"That's bullshit, Y/N. The fault always lies by the rapist and the society is just to incompetent to acknowledge that. It's always easier to blame the victims instead of bringing a rapist into prison. Most of the people who blame the victims for it are the people who never experienced it and didn't even come close to it, so they think that they shouldn't care about it and just blame the victim for everything and let the rapist continue with his life. But one day that will backfire because the people who defended a rapist and blamed a victim will be in the position of a victim and then they'll want justice. They'll want their rapist to get the punishment he deserves but then there will be people like they themselves were before it happened. It will always continue to be like this unless everyone who hasn't been effected finally starts to wake up and realize that rape happens because of the men or women who can't hold themselves back and not because a victim dressed to 'provocatively'."
"He told me that I dressed to provocatively."
"You didn't. Even if you would walk through the city naked, unless you allow someone to touch you, they don't have the right to."
"I wore an oversized gray hoodie with loose gray sweats. He said that the way my body looked in the clothes made me irresistible." You told him, a new round of tears starting to run down your face.
"Start at the beginning, love. It's easier that way." Spencer softly said and you nodded against his chest, taking a deep breath before you started to talk.
"I was in the middle of puberty and just wanted to fit in so I started to hang out with the wrong kind of people. I did some illegal stuff but I was twelve and didn't care about possible consequences." You said and he encouraged you to continue to tell him about it while running his hand through your hair.
"About a month after my thirteenth birthday, my 'best friend' told me he wants to show me something so I went into the car with him. We drove to the other end of the city and there was this man who watched me the whole time. James, my 'best friend', started to walk into a apartment building and I followed him. We stopped in front of the apartment at the top of the building, it was the only apartment someone lived in and the apartments a floor below us were all empty. He told me to ring the bell and I did it. The door never opened though." You said, taking a deep breath.
"I looked next to me and James wasn't there anymore. He was gone so I started to walk away too and then someone, the man who watched me in front of the building, came up behind me and pressed his hand down onto my mouth and dragged me into his apartment. I struggled and tried to get out of his grip but I was to weak. It was a thirteen year old girl against a grown, muscular man in his thirties." You said and Spencer tried to soothe you which helped you calm down a little bit.
"When we were inside the apartment, he immediately took me to his bedroom and started to undress me. I struggled but it didn't help. My attacker then pushed me against the wall which hurt my left shoulder. He then pushed me on the bed and took my wrists into his roughen hands and pulled them over my head, fastening the handcuffs around them. I started to struggle even more but he ignored it and leaned himself over me," You sobbed, "He ran one of his hands down the side of my face and whispered in my ear that I'm precious, beautiful and that I have the perfect body. With his other hand he held my right shoulder down and stopped me from struggling. My legs were pinned by his legs and his weight made it hard to breathe for me. I thought he would suffocate me with his weight."
"Shh, you don't have to tell me if it's to hard." Spencer quietly said, rubbing your back up and down with one hand and you shook your head against his chest. Both of you were ignoring the fact that his shirt was wet with your tears and you looked up at him.
"You're the first person I talk about this with. If I don't tell you everything know, I'll never talk about it."
"Take as much time as you need." He told you and you took another deep breath, sorting your thoughts before opening your mouth to start talking again.
"He licked down my neck and bit down, hard enough to draw blood. He wanted me to make noise but I didn't give him that satisfaction. The only noise I made was when he started to strip me. I said no but he didn't listen."
"It's not your fault. Rapist never listen to the word 'no'."
"He started to take my breast into his hands, played with my nipples and then licked down my stomach and when he was where he wanted to be-" you let out another sob and allowed your boyfriend to soothe and cuddle you. In Spencer's lap you felt even safer than sitting next to him and listening to his heart beat.
"He opened his belt and threw it across the room. The belt shattered against picture frame on the other side of the room and the buckle of the belt broke it. He didn't realize it. He was to occupied with opening his pants and pulling them and his underwear down."
"It's okay, sweetheart. I'm here and he can't hurt you anymore. You're in a safe place, baby." He reassured you when he noticed your glazed eyes. You snapped out of it and continued to talk, refusing to acknowledge what his happened.
"He put himself right into me without hesitation. I was thirteen and he took my innocence. He ruined everything." You cried.
"It took almost twenty minutes for him to orgasm inside of me and then he just freed me and I got dressed, with my blood and his sperm mixed running down my thighs, my blood reaching my ankle. I ran out of the apartment building and walked back home, across the whole city. I came home in the middle of the night and my mother didn't notice. She was to occupied with her work." You told him and started to sob like there's no tomorrow, clinging to him like he's your lifeline.
"I know that it doesn't change anything, but I'm so sorry that it happened to you, angel." Spencer softly said, rubbing your back and slid into a laying position with you still in his arms. He made himself comfortable and then pulled you against his chest, letting you cry yourself back to sleep while offering you everything you ever needed with his embrace.
Love, warmth, protection and safety.
They are all innocent until proven guilty. But not me. I am a liar until I am proven honest.
-Louise O'Neill
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If something similar happened to someone, always keep in mind, it's not your fault!