Being with Spencer was a constant struggle. Either he wasn’t home in time, or he wouldn’t come home at all. Most of the time you were alone in a house where you should experience love and affection.

It wasn’t a shocker to you when you didn’t know where he was most of the time. Usually, Penelope would call you and tell you everything he did, or was doing, to the T. But, today, you didn’t get a call.

You knew this case was serious, he had a deep history with this woman, Cat Adams. He had spoke about her maybe once or twice, but he had insisted that you didn’t worry. And now? Hell, you were worried.

Just as you’re pacing around the house, trying to sort out your thoughts, you then get a call. Expecting it to be Penelope, you pick it up, your heart beat slowing down.

Maybe everything was okay.

Well, your smile was quick to drop when you saw a number— not a number you ever expected to see.

It was the jail call number, and with a nervous feeling, you answered the call.

Just as you did, Spencer’s voice clouded your brain. It was weird to hear his voice so quick paced and anxious, you’d be a lie to say you didn’t think he went crazy— or even worse, possibly drugged.

“Baby? God, please, tell me that’s you,” he says, his voice cracking softly. You could hear his little sniffles, and it broke your heart in pieces.

“Come down to the police station, please. Just— a lot happened, and I need you here.”