You hated Cat Adams for what she put your boyfriend through.

It wasn’t even physical — no, it was the psychological torture she made him endure. The way she chipped away at his sanity, orchestrating the set-up that sent him to prison for three months. The way she used his own pain against him, chipped away at his sweet nature and brought out an anger he didn’t even know he had.

And even though Cat was long gone by now, her impact wasn’t.

The days went by following her execution, and you made sure you were there for him every second he needed it. You held him when he broke down, talked him through panic attacks and fits of anger he couldn’t even control, and you gave him space when he needed it.

You didn’t make it about you, not in any way, but it made you absolutely sick to your stomach when you saw the effects she had on him even after her death.

The one that haunted you the most?

You’d been outside of the interrogation room when Cat told Spencer she was pregnant. Of course, she wasn’t pregnant with his kid and it was all a ruse to break down the walls of his sanity, but… to Spencer? It made him feel absolutely disgusting.

She told him that her and Lindsey were the ones who drugged him in Mexico, leading him to his framed arrest. She told him that she’d pretended to be Maeve Donovan, the woman he’d fallen in love with years ago, who had gotten shot in front of him, in order to convince him to have sex with her. That, in his most vulnerable, drug-induced state, he’d been taken advantage of.

You’re sitting in bed, reading a book when Spencer comes back from the shower. He stands in the doorway, hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, and you can immediately tell something is off — that was usually how it was these days.

“Spence?” you cut through the silence softly. “Are you okay?”

He looks down, jaw subtly clenching. “I… I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to…” he trails off for a moment, eyes closing. “To do anything with you. Recently,” he finishes quietly.