Decisions
Let the punishment fit the crime: - Proverb
Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.
A/N: don't blame me if this is bit odd…blame my other head.
He knew that if he didn't do something he would die. He also knew if he did do something Floyd's anger would be uncontrollable. Either way a lot of pain was going to be involved and now the darkness had crept over the room – that deep blackness he had been living in for so long – it almost felt comforting.
Spencer knew the statistics. He had a pretty good idea how long he had, and it wasn't a week. Slowly he started to rock his head trying to remove the staples Floyd had attached his hair to the table with. His eyes watered as he felt his hair getting torn out by its roots and the fingers in one hand tried to make a fist where in the other his fingertips clawed at the table top.
He had no idea how long he did this for. It might have been hours or minutes. He had lost all sense of time in his panic to get off this table. When his hair finally gave way with a sickening ripping sound the pain he had caused by the action was lost in the euphoria that he could suddenly move his head. Then the shear panic of what would happen if Floyd came home and found him like this. Trying to get away. Then again if he didn't do something he would be dead well before the week was up, but then again if he didn't he would die by Floyd's hands.
Spencer now wished he hadn't done it. He wanted to will his head back to the table again. He needed water. He wanted to scream and shout and throw things in frustration.
He looked at this hands. One was palm down with a knife through it and the other was palm up with scissors through it. Scissors. He needed to get the scissors and then he could cut off the gag. He could cut off the bindings around his legs. He sat and stared at them. He imagined what it would be like to have them in his hands. All the things he could do with scissors. Put an end to all of this for a start. He moved his gradually stiffening fingers so that they touched the cold metal of the scissor blades. He pushed at them gently to see if the would move. Nothing. He tried wiggling his hand, but still nothing. Slowly he started to press on them with his fingers. 'I can work it loose and then I can pull out the knife and I will be free – and then what? Wait for Floyd to come and get me?'
He sat and looked at the knife and the scissors again. He had no choice and he knew it. He would have to sit here and wait and hope that he didn't get into trouble for pulling his hair out. Then again Floyd said he wanted to see more fight. Maybe this was what he wanted? Maybe he would get a positive reaction for not just sitting here and letting it happen.
Spencer rested his head back on the table where he had just escaped from. He had no idea what course of action to take. His brain wasn't working properly. He couldn't decide. 'Lay here and wait. Just keep still and wait. He will come back and it will be alight. But you will need water Spencer you know you will die without water so what do you intend doing about that?'
Slowly and gently he began to rock his head again trying to think – trying to work out what was going to happen. Floyd would know he couldn't last a week and he was sure Floyd wouldn't want him dead and so he will be coming back. That was his final decision. He wouldn't mind that he could move his head. Please don't let him mind.
-o-o-o-
The next evening. In the dark. Music playing. Sandwich wrappers on the floor. He was feeling more in control again. More like his old self. He looked over at the telephone.
Still no answer. Something was wrong. He paced the room and he drank more coffee. He needed to go and check up on things again. He wanted to see if Floyd was back. He needed to confront him on this.
Tomorrow.
Get some sleep first.
Do it in the morning.
He sat down on the couch and looked at the grate he still hadn't cleared out.
Aaron was still sitting there when the birds began to sing. He looked down at his hands and decided. Today – yes today – after his cornflakes and milk and sugar – then he would confront Floyd.
-o-o-o-
The gentle head rocking became harder. He turned his head so he was face down and smacked his forehead on the table and then he did it again. And then he did it harder.
'That's better Spencer. Take control again. Don't let the bastard do this to you.'
Smack
'Hit it harder Spencer. You are pathetic! Do you know the last time you fought back against him? Why do you let him do this to you? What is it about him?'
Smack
'You can do better than that. I want to see blood. Harder Spencer. Take control Spencer."
Smack.
-o-o-o-
Floyd stopped killing things.
-o-o-o-
His head spun and the voices got louder and louder. He wanted to scream at them and tell them to shut up. Just shut up and leave him alone. His tongue was swollen, not that it made much difference, not that it mattered.
Day two – was this day two or still the same day? He couldn't remember and so he continued to smack his head on the table to try to at least 'Get rid of that headache Spencer. Do something about the headache.'
He was too hot. Much too hot. He could feel his skin tight and dry and his lips cracked and bleeding.
And he started to shake. He could feel his hands twitching and on one hand the continual clawing of the table and the other the clenching and unclenching.
'I'm going to be sick. I am going to be sick and choke on my own vomit because I am gagged. I won't die of lack of water. Floyd won't be back in time. Someone – anyone please know I am here. Someone come and help me.'
His arms went into shaking spasms that he was unable to stop. He could feel the skin on his hands ripping and wondered if he could just rip his hand off the knife. It wouldn't hurt. But as the spasms and cramps died down in his arms and he finally stopped shaking he thought maybe it was time to sleep. Just lay down and sleep. Wrap arms tightly around someone and feel safe. It was time for that now.
Spencer closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift again. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest and he could feel his breaths getting faster.
'Don't panic Spencer. You can't afford to panic. He would have won. If you are going to die here let it be with some dignity. Don't worry that you are sitting in piss. That's not a problem right now. Just think about……"
He felt it crawling up from his stomach and managed to force it back down again. 'You cant be sick Spencer you cant be sick you cant be sick you cant be sick.'
Fatigue. It took over and forced Spencer into a sleep he didn't want. As he slept his body cramped and his limbs shook. As he slept he moved his head from side to side continuously. A low keening sound could be heard. So quiet it was hardly a sound at all.
-o-o-o-
Hotch stood outside the house. The silver SUV was there now. Floyd was home. Aaron took a deep breath and walked up the path to the porch. He would confront Floyd and sort this out once and for all.
He knocked on the door.
No answer.
He knocked harder. Aaron knew Floyd was there. He must be there if the car was. He stood and waited. He called out Floyd's name and then he called Reid and still nothing.
The frustration was getting the better of him. He had mentally prepared himself for this. He had worked out what he was going to say. He was not going to let Floyd win but already he could feel a small niggling doubt.
"Damn you Flanders open the door!"
Aaron leaned his forehead on the door and took some deep breaths and it was now he heard it. A strange noise. A sort of whimpering and a banging. It made the hair stand up on the back of Aaron's neck. That was the sound of someone in distress. He recognised that sound.
Hotch put his hand on the front door and pushed. He wasn't expecting it to, but it swung open. The room was dark and there was a dreadful smell. Aaron felt around for the light switch but when he flicked it down nothing happened. He could see in the dim light someone sitting at the table. It was from there that the sound was coming from and as he got nearer it seemed it was from here the smell was coming from too. Slowly he walked forwards until he could see what it was.
"Reid? What's wrong?"
As he moved to the table he saw. He could see the things pinning Spencer's hands to the table and he could see the blood smeared over the once shiny dark oak surface. The only good thing was that Reid was still moving and making a noise.
He moved to pull the knife out of Spencer's hand. "It's OK Spencer. I am here. I will get you out of this place. Just stay with me. As his hand touched the blade handle a voice spoke to him.
"He won't learn if you let him off every damned time. Leave him."
Hotch turned quickly to see sitting back in the shadows a dark form watching him. "Floyd – you can't do this to him. You are killing him."
Aaron went to pull at the blade again.
"I will kill him if you touch that blade again. I said leave him. I am tired Hotchner. Go home. Leave this. It's not your business." In a blink Floyd was standing there next to Aaron. "I am training him. I need him to learn his lesson. That wont happen if you keep mothering him."
Hotch's hand wrapped around the blade at about the same time Floyd pulled him back out of the way. The physical strength from Floyd was more than enough to keep him away from the table.
"I said leave him. What are you here for? What do you want?"
-o-o-o-
Spencer could hear voices. There were people here! He could hear Floyd and he could hear Aaron. Any second now and he will be free. They have come to get him.
The vomit tried to make its way back up again and in his panic he tried to swallow it back down, but it didn't quite work right. He felt the wadding slide back down his throat.
'Way to go Spence. Wait for them to come to rescue you and then kill yourself. Good one.'
'That's fine though. I get the feeling you don't really care anymore'
'It's been said it is the only way you will ever escape Floyd now. You might was well just die.'
'Crazy person! Get some help. It's not your time yet. Draw attention to yourself.'
'That's the way! Smack your face on the table!'
-o-o-o-
They both turned when they heard the strange noises and the sound of flesh on table. Hotch went to run forwards again but Floyd had his arm.
"Don't."
Hotch spun on him.
"Let me go. You cannot control me Floyd. I am not one of your dogs to kick. I am not going to keep coming back to you for more. Not unless I want it. I haven't been constantly drugged and abuse by you. I still have what makes me what I am. You cant take that from me and part of that is not being bullied by you. You are weak Floyd. You are stupid and you are weak and I won't go down to your level. I won't bow down to your demands. If you thought that my love for Spencer meant you could control me then you best think again." A breath. "If – and only if I decide I wish to resume a relationship of any kind with you Floyd it will be on my terms – not yours. Now release Spencer before he chokes to death and get him something to drink."
"Screw you."
"Yes – you did. Big man Floyd. You must be very proud of yourself. I am sorry that it didn't do to me what you wanted it to." He grabbed the knife handle and with a big tug pulled it out of the table. "Get him a drink."
"Gatorade." Floyd put a bottle of blue liquid on the table. "Electrolytes. He will need them.
"How long have you been here watching? How much pleasure did you get from this?"
"None. I got nothing from this Agent Aaron Hotchner – this was a lesson for Spencer. He failed. He won't fail again."
Aaron pulled the gag off Spencer's mouth as Floyd pulled out the scissors. "Failed in what? What on earth could he have done to deserve this?"
"He didn't die for Rosa. He let them take her and he was still moving. He not only failed me, but he failed a ten year old child."
Reid was muttering to himself as Hotch pulled him up to a proper sitting position and tried to get Reid to cough up what he had obstructing his air way. He coughed big dry angry hacks and spat out blood covered wadding onto his damp lap.
"She's your child not Spencer's. It's your duty to care for her. Not his. Don't transfer the blame Floyd. Accept that you are wrong occasionally. You never know, it might become a habit."
Hotch felt Floyd's hand moving over his back. "Relax Aaron – he will be fine."
"No I won't relax and he won't be fine. Get your hands off me and call an ambulance. Now. Move.
"Oh my Aaron – you do have a lot of fire burning today. Fine – I will call for medics, and then you and I will continue our little chat."
Floyd moved to the telephone and made a call while Aaron untied the bindings around Reid's legs. He lowered him carefully to the floor all the while talking softly to him.
"It's OK Spencer. I am here. You will be fine." He held the sliced hands and stroked the blood encrusted hair and looked at the far away staring eye. He watched helplessly as Reid started to shake and go into spasms again as his muscles contracted. "Floyd – you will pay for this. I promise you will."
"Oh I hope so." Floyd stood behind Hotch and ran fingers through his dark unruly hair. "You need a hair cut."