Chapter 1- Cycle.

Author's note: I don't own Criminal Minds. This could be triggering for those with ED's or self-harm issues and or drug problems. Rated M accordingly.

His stomach was a black hole. It could never be filled. Until it was full of course, that sudden moment that came out of nowhere was the worst. Suddenly it would just stop. His head would dart up from the floor and the urge to run to the bathroom would come over him. It wasn't an urge so much as it was a desperate need brought on by the site before him. The terrifying site of the food wrappers littering the kitchen floor around him, the light from the open fridge was suddenly blinding. He would dart up, tripping on the food on the floor, it was impossible to get to the bathroom fast enough.

Reid fell to his knees before the toilet, swiftly inserting a long finger down his throat. It took three different times to get all of it out. After flushing, He curled into a ball on the bathroom floor, taking long deep breaths, trembling with each inhale and exhale. The soft rug in front of the toilet suddenly felt like the most comfortable place in the world. He clung to the cottony blue fluff that composed the rug, trying to pull himself together enough to get up.

The moment came, after a brief nap on the bathroom floor. Reid got up and rinsed the sour taste out of his mouth and returned to the kitchen, feeling more lucid than he had before, to assess the damage. He looked at the still open refrigerator, then down to the boxes and bowls on the floor. The last half of a leftover pizza, a container of microwave mac-n-cheese (eaten un microwaved) the whole bag of chocolates that he liked to keep in the fridge, there where apple cores and peach pits on the ground, a loaf of bread that he didn't even remember eating sat on the ground, one slice stuck in a tub of cream cheese along with countless other things. This was always the worst. Reid sighed, reaching into the cabinet for a trash bag. The smell was unbearable and he felt sick just touching the remnants of tonight's binge.

Once it was all collected in the bag, he tied it off and wiped off all of the stickiness on the floor. Exhausted, Spencer took the trash bag out to the dumpster and went back to his condo. The dirty feeling was taking over him now, and he quickly got into the shower, sliding to the floor and praying for it to go away. The tears didn't come anymore. The stopped flowing a long time ago, this was just life now. Binge, purge, restrict, shoot up, pass out, throw up more, occasionally drink, purge drinks, fall asleep, get up too quickly and feel dizzy, maybe pass out again. Somewhere in there, he would go catch serial killers and read multiple books a week.

The water was running cold as he ran his fingers over his exposed ribs. Reid carefully grabbed onto the little cave in the wall that was meant to hold soap and gently pulled himself up, feeling weak and shaky. The towel he wrapped himself in did nothing to stop the trembling. He frantically dug through his dresser drawers looking for his heaviest pajamas and a long sleeve shirt.

When he finally managed to get under his blankets, after swallowing a sleeping pill, Reid still felt a chill. When the sleeping pill finally took him, it wasn't as huge of a relief as he had been hoping for, but it got him through the night.

The morning came too soon, and it was cold. Winter time was the worst. Reid got up, started the coffee maker and went back to his room to get dressed for work. First, however, he had a date with the scale. He stepped on, then off again, then back on. Each time 135 showed up on the red digital display. Reid quickly did the math, this lead to a BMI of 17.8. Underweight. Reid stopped to look in the mirror, thinking about where things stuck out. He did a quick count of his ribs. This was an odd ritual. He turned around and looked over his shoulder. His spine was beginning to show. The long chestnut hair he had once been so proud of looked dull and lifeless. His cheeks where gaunt now, and any life and insatiable thirst for knowledge that had been in Reid's eyes before was now gone.

He put on his boxers and under shirt. Then a pair of corduroy pants. Those should keep him warmer than slacks. He pulled out a long sleeve button-up shirt and his favorite sweater vest. Next, two pairs of socks and his converse. Reid pulled his purple scarf and pea coat on before heading to the kitchen to put his black coffee in a travel mug. Spencer picked up his messenger bag and his keys and shut the door behind him.

As soon as he put the key in the ignition of his car, he cranked the heater up. The first few minutes when it pumped out cold air at him where always the worst, it's as if he wasn't cold enough already. Relief flooded through is body as it finally warmed up in the car. He almost felt as though he was at a normal body temperature. With almost no fat on his body, achieving a comfortable temperature was difficult.

He scanned his ID card in the door and walked into the office, smiling and politely greeting his co-workers. Nobody knew anything. Nobody could ever get any idea. Who could be more of a master deceiver than a profiler? Reid's legs felt shaky and unsteady and his desk seemed way too far away.

The pile of paperwork on his desk was massive. Just for once, could Morgan and Prentiss stop unloading all of their files on him? He had no desire what so ever to do any more paper work than he had to these days. Lately, his head felt cloudy and his hands shook a lot when he wrote out reports. Reid sat down and began sifting through the papers, with nothing but a burning desire to go home in his head. Prentiss sat on his desk, trying to chit-chat with him. He absently listened, smiling and nodding.

She finally, as she got up from her seat on his work space, asked if he'd like to go out to lunch with her and Garcia. Reid's mind raced and he thought of all of the horrible things that were out there, begging to be eaten, and of the way Garcia and Prentiss always wanted to eat out side for some reason. How would he get his dilaudid fix if he was out with Emily and Garcia? Before he could say no, the instinct to cover up the fact that anything was wrong forced a "yes" out of his lips.

"Alright, We're not sure where we're going yet, but we'll meet up outside Garcia's office at around noon" Emily smiled.

"Sounds great" Reid said, cracking another smile. He turned back to his paperwork, scolding himself on the inside for agreeing to eat, especially after the binge last night. But for a brief moment, he prided himself on deceiving Emily into thinking that he was a normal twenty-five-year-old who ate food several times a day, and didn't think much of it. He could keep up this illusion forever if he wanted, and oh how he wanted to.