The Chariot (Spencer x Reader)

TWENTY

warning: blood, nsfw

It was a sunny spring day, the landscape finally thawing from the harsh cold of winter. I was standing in a field, surrounded by tall grasses, wildflowers, and the occasional bumble bee. Everything seemed happier here. I felt like a child, unburdened by responsibilities and worries of the world.

I looked down and saw that I was wearing a flowy green sundress patterned with little white flowers. I smiled – this is exactly like one I had when I was a teenager.

I began to walk through the field, wanting to see what was just beyond the hill in front of me. As I stepped, one foot in front of the other, the wildflowers began to morph into roses. The thorns on the bushes cut at my legs, drawing blood everywhere they scratched. A certain uneasiness settled over me, but something forced me to ignore the blood staining my dress and continue to walk.

I reached the top of the hill but was only met with another seemingly endless field of roses. Roses aren't normally in fields, are they?

"Stop and smell the flowers," a voice thundered from above me.

I obliged – I had no reason other than my slight discomfort not to. I crouched down, closing my eyes and letting the sweet scent fill my nostrils. The fragrance I had avoided for so many years eased my tensions and provided a strange comfort.

When I opened my eyes back up, I was no longer in the field. The roses that had so recently surrounded me were replaced with ropes, tied around my wrists and ankles. The grass under my feet becoming a cool metal table to which I was secured.

"Hello? Is anybody here? Someone, help me!" I shouted into the void now surrounding me, tugging on my restraints.

Five apparitions appeared at my side. The old lady, the two bank employees, and the two hostages that didn't make it out. Their clothes were covered in little holes from where the bullets had hit them, the old woman with a single hole in her temple. Fresh blood poured out of them, but they all just stood and watched me with expressionless faces. "You did this to us," the elderly woman stated in a monotone voice.

"No, I'm sorry, please untie me, please help," I begged.

"You couldn't even help them..." she gestured to my left. I followed her pointed finger to see three people standing on the opposite side of the dark, empty room. A man, a woman, and a teenaged boy. Their throats were slashed from ear to ear and dried blood caked their bodies, but when I looked at their faces to see who they were, they were blank. They were faceless. "...so why should we help you?"

I shot straight up, uncontrollable sobs already fighting their way out of my chest. I felt like I was drowning in my own sweat, but I wasn't under the covers. I pulled my knees into my chest and rocked, hoping the movement would soothe the hyperventilating and violent shaking of my upper body.

It was just a bad dream. You're okay. It was just a bad dream. You're okay.

I repeated that mantra in my head, but it didn't help, so I reached for my phone on the nightstand while I continued to rock.

"Y/n?" Spencer mumbled, the sleep evident in his voice. He had gone into work for the first time since the shooting earlier this morning. He said he would be back tonight, but they got pulled on a case and he had to leave. So, I was alone.

I didn't say anything, instead choosing to let my cries bleed through the silence.

"Y/n? What's going on? What's wrong?" His voice grew more urgent the longer it took me to respond.