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Spencer let out a shaky breath as he he looked into the bathroom mirror, an already bruising handprint on his cheek staring back at him, mocking him.
“Mum, please! It’s your medicine, its going to help you feel better,” he was pleading with her. Begging her through the tears that had gathered in his eyes, he hated seeing her like this. His mother, his smart, strong mother so shaken and sick and-
And she slapped him. A hard strike across his right cheek. She raised her hand again and he flinched back, he saw her pause for a moment and for a brief second hope that she realized it was just him, just her Spencer, bloomed in his chest, but before he could fully process it her hand swung again. Unforgiving and painful, nails leaving a small scratch on his cheek.
He resented his mothers fate, her own brain ravaging itself with no care of what it did to her life. He could see her forgetting him. Slowly, more and more, ever so painfully. He had been so hopeful, her new medicine had been helping the schizophrenia, she was more lucid than not. And then-
And then what? And then he saw the brief moment in her eyes that she didn’t recognize him when he went to visit? And then he had her tested and found out she had dementia? That she was loosing what she had left of herself? That he was loosing her?
He hadn’t told anyone, he didn’t want to team to look at him with anymore pity than they already did. After Tobias they seemed to walk on eggshells around him. But he could handle that. He could handle being hurt. He could handle going through withdrawal by himself.
But he didn’t want to handle this. He didn’t want to have to handle his mother forgetting him. He didn’t-
“Reid? We have a case,” Morgans voice called from the bathroom door and spencer quickly wiped away the tears that were threatening to spill.
He walked out, trying to keep his face hidden from Morgans view.
“Shit...kid. Reid what happened?” Spencer clenched his fists, don’t ask, he thought, if you keep asking I’m going to end up crying again.
“Come on, pretty boy, talk to me. What happened?” His voice... god it sounded so full of concern, fear.
“My mum...was having a bad day.” He’d tried to keep his voice void of any emotion, but he could help the slight tremble of his words. He could feel himself start getting closer and closer to breaking down, so he checked out. He focused on the slight buzzing from the awful fluorescent lights, the smell of cheap coffee wafting through the air, the stiff material of his button down against his skin. He was vaguely aware that Morgan was still speaking, still trying to talk to him. But he didn’t want to talk. He’d been taking care of his mother since he was a kid. It was always his job, and he could handle it by himself now, just like he did then. He could handle this.