The Summer With Spencer
The Summer With Spencer, Chapter 23- Changes
I sat on the cold metal table as the doctor drew the saw nearer. Most people would be frightened at the sight of a saw coming near their skin, but I trusted medicine, I knew that it would only cut through the cast, as long as I stayed still. The nurse eyed me as the saw began to cut. I didn’t even flinch. As soon as the cast came off, I knew what to expect. I knew that my arm would be pale and small from not using the muscles for so long, but what I hadn’t been expecting, was the scars. A long pale scar ran from the crease of my elbow to my wrist, but it was barely noticeable, probably because my arm was so pale already. Three horizontal scars above my elbow were quite prominent. I held my arms together and laughed at the contrast. My left arm was significantly bigger from all of the dexterity it had gained, and all of its usage. In comparison, my right arm had grown smaller and thinner, and from lack of sun, paler by a considerable margin. I would have to attend physical therapy once a week for the rest of the summer, but I didn’t mind much, only that I would have to go outside. As I walked home it began to pour rain, but I didn’t mind. It was a refreshing rain, with no thunder or lightning to accompany it. I sloshed home in the cool wetness, happy to have my cast off. I opened my front door and stepped inside the cool, air-conditioned house. I tied my hair up in a messy bun and changed into athletic clothes to get ready for my workout. On the way back downstairs, I checked myself out in the mirror. My cheekbones were a little sharper, and I was definitely thinner. Pleased with the result, I went downstairs and worked even harder, this time on all of the machines.
My arm was feeling better as I worked it out, but I knew not to push it. It felt so weird to be able to straighten my arm out, so to get used to the feeling, I did some curls. I changed out of my sweaty clothes into cropped sweatpants that now hung off of me, and a tight, purposely to short tank top. I was startled by a knock at the door. I chose to ignore it, knowing who would be behind it. What I couldn’t ignore though, was the sound as my door was busted down.
Spencer’s POV
When everyone arrived home later that day, they all tried to cheer me up, but to no avail. There was only one person who could make me feel better, and she wasn’t here.
On Sunday we did nothing, just lounged around outside. I was burning through books at an incredible pace, as many as five in one day. They were the only things that could hold my focus at this point, the only things that could take my mind off of what I couldn’t bear to think about. If the team noticed the signs of me using again, they didn’t show it, for which I was very grateful. At work the next week, I felt my focus was pulled in even more. My job was one thing that I was continuously good at, and I wasn’t about to let that go. I channeled my sorrows into extra hours on the job, and better work performance. As dead as I felt inside, I knew that the victims and their families felt much worse, so I chose to focus on that to get through the days.
Every night, I had a new and terrifying nightmare. I felt horrible for constantly waking the others up, so by the third night, I just didn’t sleep at all. Coffee would have to do, I would make the sacrifice for my roommates. Because one person getting no sleep, wins out over five people getting no sleep. I sat cross-legged on my armchair in my room most nights, just thinking. Mostly I wondered what Llysa was doing at that moment, whether she was thinking of me too. I began to feel intensely depressed, she was probably the one person who had always understood me, never questioned my actions, never judged me. And she had always, always believed in me, not once had she doubted my ability for anything. It had been nice to feel like Superman for once, instead of Lois Lane.
Morgan’s POV
I couldn’t stand to see Reid like this. He never smiled anymore, and he didn’t babble on about random facts anymore. This wasn’t him at all. He gave straight answers and facts that were relevant only, and I couldn’t deny his work ethic was better for it. In fact, his whole job performance had improved, not that it was bad before. But now he logged extra hours to solve every case, devoting all of his energy to solving every one. At home, all he did was read, or lock himself in his room and do God-knows-what. We had all watched his behavior closely, and he exhibited no signs of doing Dilaudid again, and I thanked God himself for that.
A couple of nights, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday nights, he had woken up to Reid screaming his head off over some particularly horrifying nightmares, though he would share with no one what they were about. Morgan could tell the other members of his team were really worried about him too. They weren’t just a team, they were a family, and though he was 24 years old, Reid was still considered the baby of the team. They would all do anything to help him, and that’s why the next Thursday, I had all I could stand and marched over to Llysa’s house.
Everything had gone down on early Saturday morning, so Reid had been like that for almost a week. I couldn’t let him continue on like that. I knocked on her front door at around 8 pm. No answer. I knocked again, harder. It suddenly dawned on me that she probably wouldn’t answer if she knew it was me. Desperate times call for desperate measures, I took a deep breath and kicked the front door in.
I saw her peek around the corner of her bedroom, and look down the stairs at me. She bounded down the stairs, “What the hell are you doing ?” She demanded. She stopped in front of me, and I gasped in shock. She looked different, and not in a good way. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her cheekbones had grown sharper. A slight bruise was visible on her face. She had definitely lost weight, when she hadn’t even been 100 pounds before. Her cropped sweatpants hung off her body, and her shirt exposed her sharp hipbones and flat stomach. Her cast was off, and her scars stood out, making her look like someone who had been through a war. I couldn’t believe the change from just a week ago, had she even been eating ? “What happened to you ?” I whispered to her, horrified. “What do you mean, what happened ? I’ve been working out, is that a crime ?” I sat her down and told her seriously about Reid’s behavior. “He needs you. He really, really does. I don’t know why he said those things to you, but you’re his best friend. You connected with him in a way none of us understand, faster than any of us ever did.” “Well,” she said, “ Words can only be forgiven, not forgotten.” She stood and walked calmly up the stairs to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.
I gazed after her, unsure of how to make things right. I looked around the house that I stood in, it was spotless, and the living room furniture had been moved. I fixed the door to start with, and stayed in the house until she emerged again, ready to try a different approach.
Llysa’s POV
I peered around the corner, Derek Morgan was standing in my living room. I rushed down the stairs. “ What the hell are you doing ?!” I demanded to know. He stayed silent, and looked me up and down. “What happened to you ?” he whispered, looking concerned. “What do you mean ? I started working out, that’s all.” I told him, put off by his reaction. He sat me down and told me all about how sad Spencer was, yadda yadda. Well, maybe if Spencer hadn’t said those things to me, everything would be fine. Poor Spencer ? What about me ? I’m the one who’s only fourteen, living alone in a strange town. But I listened intently, feeling bad for thinking all of those things. Spencer had been through so much, did I really need to be so mean toward him ? I was torn, because technically, he had been mean to me first, and he himself had told me to back off, so wasn’t I actually respecting his wishes ? I kept my exterior calm, but inside, in security, worry, and confusion burned inside my stomach like acid. I faced Morgan and stated “Words can only be forgiven, never forgotten.” With that, I strode into my bedroom, where I was free to break down once more, in peace.
I laid on my floor, reminiscing the night when Spencer had first really opened up to me. We had lain side-by-side in this very spot, talking and comforting one another, then laying in cozy silence. I gazed up at my ceiling, realizing how much I missed him. The way he would tell me a bunch of stuff I would have never known otherwise, the way he would absent-mindedly brush his hair out of his face, the way he twisted his fingers when he got nervous, the way he bit his lip seductively without knowing it. It was the little things like that, that made me appreciate the good times. Over thinking things wasn’t helping me much, but I didn’t have anything to drown out my thoughts. Anything non-harmful, that is.
My arm was feeling better as I worked it out, but I knew not to push it. It felt so weird to be able to straighten my arm out, so to get used to the feeling, I did some curls. I changed out of my sweaty clothes into cropped sweatpants that now hung off of me, and a tight, purposely to short tank top. I was startled by a knock at the door. I chose to ignore it, knowing who would be behind it. What I couldn’t ignore though, was the sound as my door was busted down.
Spencer’s POV
When everyone arrived home later that day, they all tried to cheer me up, but to no avail. There was only one person who could make me feel better, and she wasn’t here.
On Sunday we did nothing, just lounged around outside. I was burning through books at an incredible pace, as many as five in one day. They were the only things that could hold my focus at this point, the only things that could take my mind off of what I couldn’t bear to think about. If the team noticed the signs of me using again, they didn’t show it, for which I was very grateful. At work the next week, I felt my focus was pulled in even more. My job was one thing that I was continuously good at, and I wasn’t about to let that go. I channeled my sorrows into extra hours on the job, and better work performance. As dead as I felt inside, I knew that the victims and their families felt much worse, so I chose to focus on that to get through the days.
Every night, I had a new and terrifying nightmare. I felt horrible for constantly waking the others up, so by the third night, I just didn’t sleep at all. Coffee would have to do, I would make the sacrifice for my roommates. Because one person getting no sleep, wins out over five people getting no sleep. I sat cross-legged on my armchair in my room most nights, just thinking. Mostly I wondered what Llysa was doing at that moment, whether she was thinking of me too. I began to feel intensely depressed, she was probably the one person who had always understood me, never questioned my actions, never judged me. And she had always, always believed in me, not once had she doubted my ability for anything. It had been nice to feel like Superman for once, instead of Lois Lane.
Morgan’s POV
I couldn’t stand to see Reid like this. He never smiled anymore, and he didn’t babble on about random facts anymore. This wasn’t him at all. He gave straight answers and facts that were relevant only, and I couldn’t deny his work ethic was better for it. In fact, his whole job performance had improved, not that it was bad before. But now he logged extra hours to solve every case, devoting all of his energy to solving every one. At home, all he did was read, or lock himself in his room and do God-knows-what. We had all watched his behavior closely, and he exhibited no signs of doing Dilaudid again, and I thanked God himself for that.
A couple of nights, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday nights, he had woken up to Reid screaming his head off over some particularly horrifying nightmares, though he would share with no one what they were about. Morgan could tell the other members of his team were really worried about him too. They weren’t just a team, they were a family, and though he was 24 years old, Reid was still considered the baby of the team. They would all do anything to help him, and that’s why the next Thursday, I had all I could stand and marched over to Llysa’s house.
Everything had gone down on early Saturday morning, so Reid had been like that for almost a week. I couldn’t let him continue on like that. I knocked on her front door at around 8 pm. No answer. I knocked again, harder. It suddenly dawned on me that she probably wouldn’t answer if she knew it was me. Desperate times call for desperate measures, I took a deep breath and kicked the front door in.
I saw her peek around the corner of her bedroom, and look down the stairs at me. She bounded down the stairs, “What the hell are you doing ?” She demanded. She stopped in front of me, and I gasped in shock. She looked different, and not in a good way. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her cheekbones had grown sharper. A slight bruise was visible on her face. She had definitely lost weight, when she hadn’t even been 100 pounds before. Her cropped sweatpants hung off her body, and her shirt exposed her sharp hipbones and flat stomach. Her cast was off, and her scars stood out, making her look like someone who had been through a war. I couldn’t believe the change from just a week ago, had she even been eating ? “What happened to you ?” I whispered to her, horrified. “What do you mean, what happened ? I’ve been working out, is that a crime ?” I sat her down and told her seriously about Reid’s behavior. “He needs you. He really, really does. I don’t know why he said those things to you, but you’re his best friend. You connected with him in a way none of us understand, faster than any of us ever did.” “Well,” she said, “ Words can only be forgiven, not forgotten.” She stood and walked calmly up the stairs to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.
I gazed after her, unsure of how to make things right. I looked around the house that I stood in, it was spotless, and the living room furniture had been moved. I fixed the door to start with, and stayed in the house until she emerged again, ready to try a different approach.
Llysa’s POV
I peered around the corner, Derek Morgan was standing in my living room. I rushed down the stairs. “ What the hell are you doing ?!” I demanded to know. He stayed silent, and looked me up and down. “What happened to you ?” he whispered, looking concerned. “What do you mean ? I started working out, that’s all.” I told him, put off by his reaction. He sat me down and told me all about how sad Spencer was, yadda yadda. Well, maybe if Spencer hadn’t said those things to me, everything would be fine. Poor Spencer ? What about me ? I’m the one who’s only fourteen, living alone in a strange town. But I listened intently, feeling bad for thinking all of those things. Spencer had been through so much, did I really need to be so mean toward him ? I was torn, because technically, he had been mean to me first, and he himself had told me to back off, so wasn’t I actually respecting his wishes ? I kept my exterior calm, but inside, in security, worry, and confusion burned inside my stomach like acid. I faced Morgan and stated “Words can only be forgiven, never forgotten.” With that, I strode into my bedroom, where I was free to break down once more, in peace.
I laid on my floor, reminiscing the night when Spencer had first really opened up to me. We had lain side-by-side in this very spot, talking and comforting one another, then laying in cozy silence. I gazed up at my ceiling, realizing how much I missed him. The way he would tell me a bunch of stuff I would have never known otherwise, the way he would absent-mindedly brush his hair out of his face, the way he twisted his fingers when he got nervous, the way he bit his lip seductively without knowing it. It was the little things like that, that made me appreciate the good times. Over thinking things wasn’t helping me much, but I didn’t have anything to drown out my thoughts. Anything non-harmful, that is.