A.N) This is my first time in this particular fandom, but this has been bugging me forver. I got the idea after watchin the Piolet and the last finale.
Summary: She'll wake up in the dead of night sometimes, her hands bound, the pain growing, and her throat unwilling to let a sound out. She'll feel the warm stickiness of blood, her own blood pooling in her hands and dripping down her wrists as she struggles in vain to get free.
Screaming in the Dead of Night
She sometimes still feels the pain in her hands.
Some nights she'll wake up with her hands zip-tied. She'll be gagged and it'll be impossible for her to move, and her hands . . . her hands are burning. She can feel the blood pooling and ever so slowly sliding down her wrists. She tries to scream so many times but it's muffled by the gag until eventually no noise leaves her raw throat. She decides that if she's going to die, then she's going to face her attacker head on. She braces herself and opens her eyes prepared to see the monster that haunts her nightmares.
When she opens her eyes it all disappears. The force holding her down is gone and so is the gag. The only liquid on her wrists and arms is sweat. It feels sticky as it dries and she peels herself off the bed. An hour, some water, and more pills than she probably should have taken later the only remaining evidence of her experience are her still too quick breaths, slightly elevated heart rate, and the shooting pain in her hands.
Tomorrow she will walk into the precinct halfway through her third cup of coffee as opposed to her first cup. She will laugh, smile, and snark just enough to hid the bags under her eyes and no one will notice. She'll also drop things randomly. If she's lucky it'll just be a pen and she can play it off as boredom from too much paperwork. But there are days when she'll drop her phone, a coffee cup, or even god forbid a case file. Those are the days when people notice. Korsak will send her small pitying looks, as does Maura.
She'll endure their pity because she knows they care. And tomorrow she'll laugh, she'll smile, and she'll snark. She'll pretend that her hands don't shake and that she can't see the scars. She'll pretend she doesn't drop things and that she doesn't feel the pain. She'll pretend that she's never been hurt and maybe one day she'll believe it.
But until then she'll wake up in the dead of night, her hands bound, the pain growing, and her throat unwilling to let a sound out. She'll feel the warm stickiness of blood, her own blood pooling in her hands and dripping down her wrists as she struggles in vain to get free.
Tell me what you think