A/N: Wow, didn't expect this to turn to full on angst but anyway. Also, Henry never happened.
Everyone expected her to be strong; her parents, her husband, her team.
No one caught onto the fact that she was in a living hell every day.
Or maybe they did, but they didn't say.
But in her mind, no one knew about the endless sleepless nights where she would stare at the ceiling wide awake.
No one knew about how she would only eat enough as to not create suspicion.
No one knew about the horrific nightmares that plagued her when she did manage to sleep. Some memories, others fabricated. Some were of the torture, some of the near rape and some of her dead baby.
No one knew about how she sat for hours in the bath, scrubbing until her skin was raw.
No one knew she had kicked her own husband out of the house, not being able to deal with, in her mind, his judgement and pity.
No one knew about how she jumped out of her skin and had anxiety attacks when she heard a sudden noise.
No one knew that she does a sweep of every single inch of her house, inside and outside, each time she walks through the door.
No one knew about how she visits the shooting range every day, in constant fear of her safety.
No one knew that she had turned to limitless bottles of alcohol to numb the pain when the flashbacks got too much.
No one knew about how well she was manipulating everyone around her to believe she was fine.
No one knew.
Just like no one knew, that she wouldn't be turning up to work this morning.
Because she was just sat alone.
One the cold kitchen tiles.
A bottle of vodka in one hand.
And holding a gun in the other.
Ready to pull the trigger.