SquidgeWorld Archive

It had been three days since Reid's statement in the bull pen, three days of long silences, awkward pauses and staring eyes with suddenly quieting voices whenever he walks into the room. It was terrible, and yet such a relief that he wasn't hiding anymore. He was making another cup of sugared sludge when Hotch walked in to the break room, he looked serious and purposeful. He knew what was coming questions, he'd never talked about it before but they were inevitable, he knew that but he didn't stop from telling them the truth.

"When?"

Spencer quirked his mouth just little, so the dance begins, "when what?"

Hotch expelled air, almost a sigh, not quite, but there all the same, "when did the abuse start?"

"Don't you think the important question would be when did it stop?" He felt like there was dry laugh bubbling up from his throat, he suppressed it, knowing it would only mark him as weirder, stranger, alien.

"How bout both?"

Then the dry mirthless laugh was there and he couldn't stop, couldn't help himself anymore, "you don't know how lucky you have it." Hotch didn't say anything, didn't give him the opening to change the topic or divert the flow of conversation, "I remember everything, time has no meaning except for that it passes. Nothing dulls, all the memories sharp and pointed. So sharp you can be stabbed by them." There was that desert laugh again, evaporated into nothing,

"You know my first memory I'm not actually born, it's this warm liquid memory, filled with heat, soft warm light, and muted sounds." Hotch's eyes are rounded slightly, shock showing in the set of his mouth, I know I shouldn't continue, alienate him further but I can't seem to stop, maybe this is my form of self destruction that humans are so utterly famous for. "I can tell you one thing, being born is not a pleasant experience at all." There was that queer little smile quirking the corner of his lips, flashing then gone again. Suddenly a tone change and the topic shifted, or maybe it was more like he shifted, maybe in a small little way the world shifted. "I was 3 years 2 months and 14 days. By then I'd taught myself to read and started basic math on my own, I read everything voraciously, phone books, the tattered dictionary from 1962 that I found shoved in the farthest corner of the bedroom, nutrition facts on the back of food stuffs, that's how I taught myself percentages. M-my mother was a junkie who saw fairies and couldn't make popcorn, my farther a drunk who couldn't understand basic arithmetic, I remember when I was five I calculated the probability of my parents actually producing someone like me. Genetically speaking it's somewhere around 3.756 Billion to 1." He reached into his pocket and found a shiny quarter, he replaced it every once in while when the old one got tarnished, if only replacing memories were so easy.

"It felt rather nice to know that there might actually be someone out there that understood what I was. But then I felt guilty for wishing my life on someone else, someone, innocent." Hotch watched the coin flash back and forth across the knuckles, a spark of light moving faster and faster, spinning in complex patterns and if Hotch didn't concentrate on Reid's voice he might've just let the words wash over him.

"When I was 12 years, 7 months and 2 days I graduated high school. Any school in the world would've taken me in, given me a full ride. Before this my parents had been indifferent to my education, preferring to put no effort into me at all. But the idea of me leaving, made my father take notice, he refused to let me go. I went to the courts, I managed to get myself emancipated."

What? Hotch practicably bit his tongue to prevent the questions from falling out of his mouth. Reid shrugged, "It's not normal procedure, but when I pointed out that I would be in the educational system until I hit sixteen, I got Berekly to promise that I could stay on campus full time. I was free, and I loved it." The coin flashed quick as light up in the air it spun and Reid's long fingered hand snatched it from the air, and it was gone. "The memories might not dull, and the gift of time, might not be mine but at least I had new memories to dwell on, and a library full of books to gorge on.