Hey everyone, this is my first fic so feedback and criticism is appreciated. :)
The depression was back. It was worse than ever before. He tried to fight it, he tried to reason with himself, but no matter what he did it always found him. It always came back.
He didn't know what caused it. There were too many things that could have triggered the return of his depression. Everything was building up, the pressure was building, and something had to give. Prentiss' death, the recent cases, the headaches all seemed to attack him at once, breaking down his defenses. Everyone else seemed to be getting along okay. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. It didn't matter. The team was broken, and they would never be whole again.
The depression attacked his mind and body, filling his chest with hollow cold and his head with dark dread. He was familiar with the feelings of course, he knew what to expect having dealt with it so many times before. Still, there was nothing he could do to lessen the pain, to lessen the sorrow.
He was past the point of help, past the point of hope. At least that's what he thought. He was at the point of no return, and he couldn't ask for help no matter how much he wanted it. No matter how much he needed it. He couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel or at the end of the day.
The idea was stupid. He'd read the books, read the studies. He knew. It was a permanent solution to a temporary problem. But the problems didn't feel temporary. He couldn't convince himself that they were temporary. On some level he knew the depression would end and his life would get better. But his depression was telling him he would never get better. And he was starting to believe it. What future could tomorrow possibly hold, but more pain and horror?
It was with these thoughts that Spencer Reid, brilliant mind and even better friend, swallowed a bottle of pills, and let his mind slip away forever.