(spencer) TRIGGER WARNING: PTSD flashbacks

[callmeemily]

Finally - finally, Raleigh had finished reading Anne of Green Gables. She'd been working on it for what seemed like forever, even though it'd only been a week and a half or so. She wasn't the fastest reader, but she liked it. She liked both reading (usually based on Joel's suggestions), and the book itself. When Joel'd told her earlier that there were a set of them, she'd been thrilled - and Spencer had them in his library so it was even better.

Joel was still at work, but Raleigh knew where she'd gotten the first one. It should have been simple enough - get the book, put the old one back. Nothing was ever simple, it seemed like, since there was a much bigger problem this time around; when she'd swapped the books and turned 'round, she stepped wrong. Her leg decided - after a full day's work, and Raleigh hadn't been all that careful - that it'd had it, and she stumbled into one of the side tables, knocking a stack of books and a glass tumbler to the floor with a crash.

The glass broke on the wood floor, and Raleigh found herself standing in the middle broken glass with bare feet, her leg still spasming whenever she tried to put weight on her foot. "Shit," she said thickly, and she leaned heavily on the table. She bent, trying to pick up the biggest pieces of glass so she could get to a chair or sit on the floor or something, and she hissed as the second piece sliced her hand - not badly, it wasn't going to need stitches, but she was bleeding.

All she could think was that she prayed that Spencer hadn't heard - she was pretty sure the tumbler was his mother's, and she'd have to find a way to tell him - but this? This wasn't the way, with it broken all over the floor.

Comments

[doublethepain]

The morning had started out just fine, it hadn't been until closer to lunchtime--so close to when Joel would have been there but not close enough--that Eli Jasper had shown up with the sort of wicked grin that Spencer's gotten to be so familiar with over the years. He'd tried to ignore Eli, he really had, but the other man had cornered him in the History section as he'd been re-shelving a book on Napoleon and there'd really been no escaping.

"Know what I've been thinkin' about, Spence? How long it woulda taken anybody to notice you were gone when that guy took ya up to the lighthouse if your fuckbuddy hadn't figured it out first. You think anyone woulda? You think anyone woulda wanted to save the guy who killed his own family?"

He hates himself for not being able to brush off Eli's words, especially when he's been certain all this time that Eli doesn't even really think Spencer had done what he'd been accused of, he just knows that Spencer's an easy target; and god, he wishes he wasn't because he'd stood at the shelf for nearly ten minutes after Eli had left before walking straight to the bathroom so he could throw up nothing but bile. John hadn't questioned Spencer's decision to go home and now that he glances up at his reflection in the mirror, he sees why.

He feels utterly pathetic as he trudges down the stairs to find his medication because his head's been pounding for a couple hours, and he knows he's still got three painkillers left in his pill bottle that he hadn't taken because the pain of his broken fingers had become manageable toward the end. It's not until he's already passed the library that he has to stop in his tracks to do a double take. The door's open, but he hasn't seen it open in over a month, not since Mark had-- and he hadn't even realized anyone was home, he hasn't heard anything since walking in and he'd sent Joel a text saying that he'd have to cancel lunch but he shouldn't leave work, so that just leaves...

The shattering of glass drenches him with the kind of icy dread he'd felt that night, when he'd turned around to realize it wasn't Joel standing behind him but Mark Fuller, and he physically recoils at the sound. He doesn't know what gives him the burst of energy but he finds himself putting one foot in front of the other then, stepping closer to the library until he crosses the threshold and spots the broken glass on the floor, the droplets of blood, and he doesn't even register at first that it's Raleigh even though he catches the blonde hair and the petite frame--all he sees is himself, but it's like he's in his own body and yet watching from outside of it all at once.

He remembers the look on Mark's face just before he'd smashed the glass against Spencer's head, remembers the initial contact before the glass had been embedded into his skin and the whiskey had burned and he'd screamed. He can hear himself screaming and the glass keeps shattering over and over, the blood is dripping and Mark is smiling. It's then that reality comes rushing back to him and he stumbles backwards, gripping at anything and finding nothing until he walks all the way back against a bookshelf and jumps because it could have been Mark, and he can feel the tears streaming down his face now but he does nothing to wipe them away because he's got his left handle cradled to his chest like everything is broken all over again, broken like the glass that's on the floor, and he wants the pounding in his head to stop.

He shuts his eyes tight, trying to remind himself that it's over, Joel had found him. He's okay and if he opens his eyes again, it will be Raleigh standing there and not Mark because Joel had found him and Mark is gone. He swallows hard, chest heaving in time with his pounding heart, and he slowly lifts his head to look at her. There's no Mark, just Raleigh. It's just Raleigh. He lets out a choked sob before sinking to the floor, knees to his chest as he keeps his hand cradled over them. "I'm sorry," he says, voice cracking. "Oh, god. I'm so sorry."