Spencer regretting yelling at you with all his heart. If he could go back and change what he did, he would, he might even pray.

See, Spencer was in a pissy mood— not even pissy, he was in a very bad mood. No one really knew why, Spencer didn’t even know why anymore, he was too preoccupied with overthinking.

What if you were hurt? What if you were begging for him? What if you were dead? Lifeless. Rotting away into the soil of the earth.

He snapped himself out of his thoughts, he couldn’t sit there and think about what happened; he needed to do something.

Spencer had yelled at you once it was time to leave to go question a person of interest. Maybe you just said something that triggered him, he didn’t know anymore. But he had yelled at you. Yelled at you to get out, so you did. You had left the room with a small nod and shaky voice, and went to go talk to the suspect on your own.

After a few hours Garcia had called and told everyone that she found the unsub, and the name rung a bell in Spencer’s ears. Then it had hit him— you hadn’t come back yet.

You hadn’t come back.

Meanwhile, you were sitting in the unsub’s, Charles’, basement. You were scared and hurt and you just wanted to go home.

Charles had come in on numerous occasions, taunting you with the threat of pain yet not showing you much. You were so scared.

You had started doubting every single decision you had ever made before your thoughts were cut off by the sound of a door opening.