He curled up into the fetal position as soon as Steven withdrew from him. He faced away from Morgan, staring at the floor in front of him. From the other side of the room, Steven had unbound Morgan and was leading him back to where ever the team was being held.
Reid didn't even have the energy to cry.
He tried to think of something else, anything else. Statistics on random topics, plots of novels read long ago, his childhood. But for the first time in his life, his eidetic memory failed him.
And that terrified him.
He could feel himself drifting from who he was, and with each passing minute, the past seemed like a fantasy. Who had already come?
Rossi? Yes, he had, he was the second, after…
After who?
Reid wracked his brain trying to think of who was the first to come watch him be tortured. The name wouldn't come.
Who was left? JJ? Hotch? Emily? Why couldn't he think?
Gathering what strength he had left, he reached down to his ankles to pull his pants up, retaining some form of dignity. He could feel substances, a mixture of blood and semen, leak out of him. He just wanted it to stop. He wanted the pain to stop. He wanted to go home. He wanted Derek.
Derek.
Had Steven done what he did because he knew of Spencer's feelings for the older profiler, or because he knew of Morgan's past?
Either way, Steven somehow knew it would destroy the dynamic between the two.
He could hear the door open. He took a deep breath. What more could Steven do? Kill him? No, Steven wouldn't do that. He would play with Spencer until Spencer died of blood lose or dehydration. But he wouldn't outright kill him. Not yet, anyways.
He was being hoisted up by Steven, and set down on the chair. JJ was sitting across from him. She swallowed, tilting her chin up. She was trying not to cry.
"Hey, Jayje," Spencer said with a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. She tried to smile back as Steven went to the cupboard that Spencer had grown to hate and fear because of the contents inside of it.
Her smile faltered as Steven came up behind Spencer and wrapped something around his arm, right above the elbow. A tourniquet.
"You said it was Dilaudid at your NA meeting, right?" Steven asked.
"No," Spencer whispered. He had been so good. He had been clean for so long and now that was all getting thrown away because of something he said at a place where he was meant to feel safe.
"Now, I don't know how much you took when you used, but I know what I'm about to give you isn't going to make you overdose or anything, but it may be more than you're used to," Steven said, kneeling down in front of Reid with a syringe in one hand and a vial in the other.
"Please..." Reid begged. He knew it was futile.
"You or her, Spencer?"
Reid hesitated, he could feel his resolve crumbling, but not enough to let his best friend, the mother of his godchild-
Henry.
Oh god, he was never going to see Henry again.
But if he wasn't, at least JJ would get to.
"Me." He said, closing his eyes as Steven filled the syringe well past where Spencer had when he used.
He felt the familiar sensation of the needle entering his vein, the icy cold liquid sent a shiver through his body as he felt the tips of his fingers go numb. He looked at JJ, she was crying.
"Tell him about me," He begged, tilting his head back.
"Tell who?" She whispered.
"Henry. Tell him about me,"
She shook her head, "Oh, Spence..." she said more, but Spencer wasn't aware of whatever it was. He had already drifted off into the affects of the drug.
Somewhere between then and the next few minutes, JJ had been brought back to where she was being held. Spencer didn't know when exactly that was, for everything was blurry and fuzzy and felt painless.
In the back of his mind, he was still terrified. All of his hard work gone. He was just another junkie again.
But the forefront of his mind was thankful for the deviation from the routine of pain he had grown accustomed to.
He slowly pulled his head up as Steven reentered the room, grabbing Spencer by the shoulders and pushing him to the ground. For the second time that day, Spencer was violated in the worst possible way.