It's like he has tunnel vision, all he can focus on is the glass on his floor and he's already on his knees so he can reach for one of the broken shards when her words stop him. A plea for help, like the ones he'd whispered aloud every time Mark had left the room, given him a brief reprieve from the pain he hadn't even been able to make sense of at the time. He'd been beaten up a few times in high school, though once Dane had risen in status thanks to his position on the football team, that had stopped; he'd been roughed up here and there, verbally abused more than anything, after the deaths of his family; but nothing like what he'd experienced with Mark. Nobody had ever been that cruel to him or taken so much delight in seeing him in pain.
He remembers trying so desperately not to cry, not to scream, because he hadn't wanted to give Mark the satisfaction. He finds it laughable that he can't hold back the tears now, like he's making up for that night in spades, and his hand is still outstretched toward the glass but he's turned his head to look over his shoulder at Raleigh. She needs help, she's asking him for it, and he feels the guilt rising inside of him to the point that it's almost overwhelming.
He thinks of the night he'd found her panicking from her nightmare, of how she'd asked him to say without really asking but she's really asking now, so how can he possibly deny her? She's his friend. Family, he corrects himself in a brief moment of clarity, and his brother had always reminded him that family comes first even though he'd only ever said to get something he wanted; but Dane had been right, and Spencer can't let his brother or Raleigh down, so he nods slowly as he tries to take deep breaths and make his way back to her.
He's still crying, he doesn't know how to turn it off, and he wishes he could be stronger but it's difficult to reconcile what's happening now with what had happened then, even as he holds his right hand out to help Raleigh up and settle her in the chair she'd been hanging onto. His eyes keep flickering to the mess a few feet away, his mind torturing him with flashes of the way Mark had broken his fingers--almost like he'd wanted it to be intimate and Spencer thinks he might be sick again--and Joel getting knocked to the ground, his wrist bent at such an unnatural angle.
He lets out another ragged sob because he can't get that out of his mind now, Joel bleeding on the ground because of him, because Spencer hadn't been able to defend himself and all he'd wanted that night was to go on a date. He has to carry the burden of guilt for being unable to help Raleigh now, and he can't ever really explain to her how important it is to him that she's okay because he doesn't know how to talk to anyone but Joel that way, and it's eating at him inside right now. The comforting words that he'd tried to find the night he'd stayed in bed with her are non-existent, all he can do is shakily reach for her hand and turn it over to look at the cut.
"H-how can I help you, I-- Your leg, your hand, and oh god, your foot, I don't-- I can't think, I can't--" His shoulders shake as he gently cups her hand in both of his and lowers his head to her lap. He can't hold it back anymore, this thing that's been growing inside him since what had happened, and he'd denied its existence but it's reared its ugly head with a vengeance. He needs to get a hold of himself, he knows this, he needs to help Raleigh and then he needs to get back to the glass, needs to make sure nobody else gets hurt in this room, in this house because he can't do it again. He can't walk downstairs and find another body, not if it's going to be Raleigh or Joel, he doesn't even think he could live through the pain of that again.
"Please," he cries, gripping the hem of Raleigh's shirt in his fist, and he doesn't even know what he's pleading for but it's all he can think to say. "I'll do anything, I swear, just please make it stop."
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He remembers trying so desperately not to cry, not to scream, because he hadn't wanted to give Mark the satisfaction. He finds it laughable that he can't hold back the tears now, like he's making up for that night in spades, and his hand is still outstretched toward the glass but he's turned his head to look over his shoulder at Raleigh. She needs help, she's asking him for it, and he feels the guilt rising inside of him to the point that it's almost overwhelming.
He thinks of the night he'd found her panicking from her nightmare, of how she'd asked him to say without really asking but she's really asking now, so how can he possibly deny her? She's his friend. Family, he corrects himself in a brief moment of clarity, and his brother had always reminded him that family comes first even though he'd only ever said to get something he wanted; but Dane had been right, and Spencer can't let his brother or Raleigh down, so he nods slowly as he tries to take deep breaths and make his way back to her.
He's still crying, he doesn't know how to turn it off, and he wishes he could be stronger but it's difficult to reconcile what's happening now with what had happened then, even as he holds his right hand out to help Raleigh up and settle her in the chair she'd been hanging onto. His eyes keep flickering to the mess a few feet away, his mind torturing him with flashes of the way Mark had broken his fingers--almost like he'd wanted it to be intimate and Spencer thinks he might be sick again--and Joel getting knocked to the ground, his wrist bent at such an unnatural angle.
He lets out another ragged sob because he can't get that out of his mind now, Joel bleeding on the ground because of him, because Spencer hadn't been able to defend himself and all he'd wanted that night was to go on a date. He has to carry the burden of guilt for being unable to help Raleigh now, and he can't ever really explain to her how important it is to him that she's okay because he doesn't know how to talk to anyone but Joel that way, and it's eating at him inside right now. The comforting words that he'd tried to find the night he'd stayed in bed with her are non-existent, all he can do is shakily reach for her hand and turn it over to look at the cut.
"H-how can I help you, I-- Your leg, your hand, and oh god, your foot, I don't-- I can't think, I can't--" His shoulders shake as he gently cups her hand in both of his and lowers his head to her lap. He can't hold it back anymore, this thing that's been growing inside him since what had happened, and he'd denied its existence but it's reared its ugly head with a vengeance. He needs to get a hold of himself, he knows this, he needs to help Raleigh and then he needs to get back to the glass, needs to make sure nobody else gets hurt in this room, in this house because he can't do it again. He can't walk downstairs and find another body, not if it's going to be Raleigh or Joel, he doesn't even think he could live through the pain of that again.
"Please," he cries, gripping the hem of Raleigh's shirt in his fist, and he doesn't even know what he's pleading for but it's all he can think to say. "I'll do anything, I swear, just please make it stop."