Author's Note: I know this is kind of short, but I thought I would post what I have so far. I hope you like it.

The young agent looked down at his hands, no not his hands, his wrists as he began.

"You know I wasn't exactly normal as a kid. I didn't fit in. I mean that happens when you graduate high school when you are twelve. What I experienced wasn't weird or completely horrible, but I don't know between the bullying. God I hate that word. It makes me feel like a victim, which I'm not. I'm not weak. But between the bullying, an absent father, and my mom's condition, I felt out of control. I felt alone. I felt like my life wasn't mine. Like I couldn't control where it was going. I grew up too fast."

Reid stopped to choke back tears. Hotch knew this was the first time he was telling anyone about this. He knew the kid had never stopped feeling alone. Not really.

"Um. The night that those kids stripped me naked and tied me to the goal post. I got home and my mom hadn't even noticed I was gone. It was like something inside of me broke. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to do something, so I panicked. I ran into the bathroom and took apart a razor and um. I sliced my arm. And I felt better. I felt in control. I felt calm. The world didn't feel like it was ending anymore. My head felt clear. I didn't think it was wrong at first. I mean how can something that makes you feel so good, be bad?"

Hotch put his head in his hands. "Reid. Cutting is like a drug. It makes you…"

"I know Hotch! I know what drugs do. Okay. I know cutting is like a drug. It's either this or the dilaudid. I chose this. It seemed like the lesser of two evils."

"It isn't Reid. Neither of those things are the answer to how you are feeling."

"And how would you know? You don't know what it is like."

"Like what's like?"

"What it is like to know you are feeling something like anger or sadness or whatever. You know you are feeling emotions, but you can't quite identify it. You don't know how to react to it, but you have to or you're just going to go crazy. I do this to survive. I can't live in my mind. I can't Hotch. I don't know how to deal with the fear and anxiety and self hatred and depression. Do you?"

Hotch remained silent.

"That's what I thought." Reid whispered and stood up. He walked to the bedroom. He paused. "To answer your question. I do this to survive. I'm at war with my mind and this is the only strategy that works. I would have died a long time ago if I didn't do this."

And Reid closed the door behind him, leaving Hotch to process what had just happened.

Reid was a time bomb and he just went off.

Hotch got up and walked to the bedroom door, "Reid. Have you ever considered going to therapy?"

A slight pause. "Yes, but I'm not going to."

"Why not? I will listen and try to help you whenever you are feeling frustrated or out of control or just depressed, but I can't fix everything Reid. I mean neither could a therapist, but they are way more qualified than I am."

Reid opened the door, tears staining his cheeks. He sighed. His shoulders slumped. The kid looked like he had been beaten up. And Hotch realized he had. The world and his own mind combined to make a deadly team. Reid had been fighting for too long. For too long on his own. "Look Hotch. I know you just want to help, but I think I'm too far gone. I've been doing this stuff for so long, I don't even know what life would look like without them."

"You deserve to find out Reid. You don't have to keep fighting on your own. You have friends. You have friends who care about you. They want you to be happy."

A smile pulled at the edges of Spencer's face. "I'm afraid. To go to a therapist. I'm afraid they will call me crazy and I don't want…"

"You are afraid you're going to go the same way as your mom."

Reid nodded.

"You won't Reid. We can make sure of that. We will take care of it. We can help you get your life back."