The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, buzzing faintly as you sat on the edge of the scuffed metal bed, your hands twisting together in your lap. You didn’t trust anyone here—not the guards, not the counselors, and definitely not the adults who thought they could “help” you. Every face seemed like a threat or an annoyance, and you’d learned long ago how to keep your walls high and your responses sharp.

A knock at the door made you freeze. Not the usual dull knock the guards used when they came to check on you. This one was hesitant, careful, almost polite.

“Alexandra…?” The voice was soft, measured. You turned your head slowly, and that’s when you saw him. Spencer Reid, tall and unassuming, standing in the doorway with a folder tucked under one arm, glasses perched on his nose, hair slightly messy but neatly kept. He looked like someone who spent more time thinking than yelling, and you immediately doubted he’d last five minutes with someone like you.

“I’m… Spencer Reid,” he said, voice gentle, almost nervous. “I’ve been assigned as your foster care and parole officer. I’m here to take you… out of here.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the wall. “Yeah, right. And why would I go with you? You look like you can’t even reach the top shelf in the kitchen.”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. “I may not look imposing,” he admitted, tucking the folder under his arm, “but I’m capable of helping you, and my job is to make sure you’re safe.”

You scoffed, shoving yourself off the bed and crossing your arms. “Safe? Ha. I don’t need safe. I need out.”

“And I can help with that,” he said, taking a careful step closer. His eyes were steady, but there was a softness in them—like he could see through the walls you’d built and wasn’t afraid. “I won’t lie to you, Alexandra. I know this isn’t going to be easy. I know you’re angry and scared. But I’m here to make this… transition as smooth as possible.”

You laughed, a harsh, short sound that echoed off the concrete walls. “Smooth? You’re kidding, right? No one’s ever cared about smooth.”

He didn’t flinch. “Maybe not before. But I intend to try.”

You sized him up, your pulse quickening, your jaw tight. He didn’t seem scared of you, didn’t seem to judge you. That alone made your chest tighten with suspicion and… something else. Curiosity.

The guard at the door cleared their throat. “Time’s up. He’s waiting outside.”

You glanced at Spencer, then at the door, then back at him. “If I go with you… what then? You gonna lecture me about my life choices?”

“No lectures,” he said quietly, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “Just guidance, and… structure. And if you want, we can figure out how to make things a little better together.”

You studied him, weighing the odds. He seemed… different. Unlikely. Maybe a little fragile for the task. And yet… there was something steady there, like he wouldn’t back down no matter what you threw at him.

Finally, you nodded once. “Fine. But don’t think I’m cooperating.”

“I don’t expect you to,” he said, opening the door wider. “Just come with me. Step by step.”

You followed, each footstep echoing in the long, sterile hallway. Guards glanced at you, some smirking, some shaking their heads, but Spencer walked beside you, quiet and patient. For the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like everyone in the world was against you. Not completely.

And somehow, that was worse than frightening.