ourvoids

[ourvoids]

Who’s at the Door?

[ourvoids]

[ourvoids]

criminal minds be like “we’re looking for a white male”

[ourvoids]

the voice are getting louder.

it's had been six months since Spencer was diagnosed with schizophrenia. Despite the medication, the voices in his head seemed to grow more persistent and intense. Each day was a battle to distinguish reality from the insistent whispers that plagued his mind. Thankfully, Spencer had asked for a sabbatical from the BAU, though his colleagues didn't know the real reason behind his request. They assumed he needed time to rest and recharge, unaware of the daily torment he was enduring. This break gave him the space to focus on managing his condition and seeking additional help. But look how it was going—Spencer was hiding away in Gideon's cabin, isolated from the world, desperately trying to find some semblance of peace. The once comforting solitude now felt like a prison, as the voices continued to haunt him without respite. Despite his best efforts, the isolation only seemed to amplify his struggles. The voices had grown so overwhelming that Spencer resorted to self-harm in a desperate attempt to silence them, hoping the physical pain would drown out the torment in his mind. Each cut was a cry for relief, a fleeting moment of quiet in the chaos. Each cut was deeper than the last, an act of desperation to escape the relentless torment, tears streaming down his cheeks as the pain momentarily silenced the voices. He knew he needed help, but the shame and fear of being perceived as weak kept him from reaching out. With every passing day, the boundary between reality and his inner turmoil grew more blurred, leaving him trapped in a cycle of anguish and isolation.

The respite was always short-lived, and the scars on his body mirrored the deeper wounds within his psyche. Was this how his mother had suffered when she was first diagnosed? The thought haunted Spencer, adding another layer of anguish to his already fragile state. He couldn't help but wonder if he was doomed to follow the same path, or if there was any hope left for him to break free from this relentless torment. Amidst the darkness, Spencer clung to the hope that therapy and support groups online could offer him some relief. He also knew that advancements in psychiatric treatments and advances in medications were continually being developed, presenting the possibility of finding a more effective solution. Additionally, the unwavering support of his friends and colleagues, if he chose to confide in them, could provide a much-needed lifeline in his battle against the relentless voices. But for now, the battle continued, each day a test of his resilience and willpower. Spencer found himself torn between the urge to retreat further into isolation and the need to reach out for help. As the days passed, he knew he had to make a decision: remain shackled by his inner demons or take the brave step towards seeking the support that could lead him to healing.

It had been a year since Spencer had stepped away from the BAU, and the once overwhelming voices had begun to slowly fade. The combination of therapy, new medication, and the gradual reintegration of social support had started to make a tangible difference. Though the journey was far from over, Spencer felt a glimmer of hope for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. Spencer felt a mix of apprehension and excitement about returning to the BAU. He was eager to reconnect with his colleagues and resume the work that once gave his life purpose, but he also feared that the pressures of the job might trigger a relapse. Nevertheless, the progress he had made gave him the confidence to believe that, with the right support, he could manage his condition and thrive in his role once again. Spencer just had to make sure he took his medication consistently and attended his therapy sessions regularly. By maintaining these routines, he could keep the progress he had made and stay on a path toward recovery. As he prepared to return to the BAU, he reminded himself that managing his mental health was a continuous process, one that he was now better equipped to handle.

Getting ready that day was a nightmare; not only did he have to hide his pills, but also the scars that told the story of his struggle. He carefully selected a long-sleeved shirt to cover the marks on his arms and tucked his medication discreetly into his bag. The fear of judgment weighed heavily on him, but he knew that facing his fears was a crucial part of his journey toward healing. Arriving at the BAU, he was greeted with a chorus of welcoming smiles and the sight of Garcia enthusiastically decorating his desk with colorful streamers and balloons. Her cheerful presence and the warmth of his colleagues' greetings helped to ease some of his anxiety. Spencer felt a surge of gratitude for the supportive environment that awaited him, reinforcing his resolve to push forward. As Spencer sat at his desk and opened one of the drawers to put his bag away, he found a small package nestled inside. The first thing he noticed was that there was no return address, which piqued his curiosity. Carefully unwrapping the package, he found a handwritten note. The note's message sent chills down his spine: "I know everything, Spencie." His hands trembled as he read the words, and a cold dread settled in his stomach. Who knew about his struggles, and what did they intend to do with that knowledge?