It was raining the other night and I just sort of spit this out from practically nowhere. Hope you like it.

Five-year-old Spencer Reid had been watching a black widow spider spin an egg sack on the ground in the corner of the fence for a good half an hour when he felt the first drop of rain drip on to his bare forearm. He looked up at the clouds and squinted against the dimming sunlight. The clouds were moving quickly; the harmless stratus clouds were being chased away by the towering cumulonimbus. Some types of cumulonimbus clouds, young Spencer recalled, are commonly referred to as "wall clouds" because they can reach from 350 feet above the ground all the way up to over 50,000 feet, and the higher the cloud, the more severe the storm was sure to be.

Spencer was not ready to go inside yet, though. He didn't mind light rain. Besides, the spider he had been studying was not finished with her egg sack and he wanted to continue watching her. When Spencer looked back down from the clouds to the spider's corner the spider had, to Spencer's dismay, gone away. She undoubtedly sensed the storm approaching.

The child sighed in disappointment and a clap of thunder resounded thru the air. The rain began to drip down more steadily and he decided it was time to go back inside before his mother began to worry. In the short time it took for Spencer to reach the back door, the rain had already began to fall in a torrent; the boys cloths were already wet. He twisted the doorknob and pushed only to find the door locked.

Spencer knocked and waited impatiently as the rain drenched him from head to toe. In a few moments when his mother did not answer, he pounded as hard as he could on the door. "Mom," he yelled. "Let me in, it's raining!"

Minutes passed. Spencer continued to pound and yell to no avail. Perhaps if he went around to the front of the house and knocked on the front door his mother would hear him. If nothing else, Mrs. McDermott next door would surely let him in her house until the storm passed. The kind elderly woman was somewhat of a second mother to him in times when his mother was "not feeling well."

The six-foot high privacy fence boxed in the entire back yard, and only one gate offered passage to the front yard where Spencer decided he needed to be. But when he reached the gate he found it latched. He stretched up on the tips of his toes as high as he could with the rain pounding painfully in his face. His tiny fingers barely brushed the latch; it was impossible to unlock.

In panicked desperation, Spencer ran to the back door and pounded with both fists and screamed at the top of his voice. "MOM! MOM! LET ME IN!"

There was still no answer from within by the time the sky had darkened. The thunder boomed and lightning flashed and the air grew windy and cold. Spencer sank to the ground with his back against the door, curled his knees to his chest, squinted his eyes and plugged his ears with his fingers. His tears fell as heavily as the rain.

Hours seemed to pass, they very well may have, before the storm calmed enough that Spencer felt that it was safe to unplug his ears. When he did, it was just in time to hear another storm on the other side of the door.

"…No excuse, Diana!"

"DAD!" he yelled and stood up, beginning to pound on the door again.

"Spencer?!" he herd his father's voice on the other side of the door, followed by the beautiful sound of the door unlatching.

The look of shock on his father's face made the little boy feel ashamed. "I was playing outside and I couldn't get in!" he cried.

"What in blazing HELL, Diana!" the man cursed as he gathered the soaked child in his arms and carried him inside. "Has he been outside the whole time it's been raining?"

"How was I supposed to know where he was!?" the mentally ill woman screamed and threw a book at the father and son that William, having years of practice, dodged with ease. "He was supposed to be in his room. Spencer, I told you to stay in your room. Why don't you ever listen to me? Terrible things could happen to you if you don't listen to me, Spencer. Why, why WHY do you…"

"Diana, he's a five-year-old boy for god's sake!" Spencer's father defended him. "He can't be cooped up his entire life. He can't possibly understand why you won't let him have a decent childhood!"

"HE UNDERSTANDS! He understands a lot! He's just a boy and he's smarter than you, you stupid…"

Spencer couldn't stand anymore. "STOP IT!" he screamed and thrashed his body, forcing his father to place him on his feet. "I would rather live outside than listen to you yell at each other all the time!" He turned and ran away, ignoring his father calling after him and his mother continuing to chastise his father.

He slammed the door to his room and let out an angry scream. He took off every stitch of his sopping wet clothing and curled up under the thick blankets in his bed.

"I understand a lot," he grumbled to himself. "But I don't understand why I can't just have a normal family!"