A/N: Okay, this is just a really, really short drabble to start things off. I am looking for a beta so please PM me if you're interested.
How she survived, she didn't know. Maybe it was fate, or luck, or destiny. But Ziva doesn't believe in fate, or luck, destiny, heaven or hell. All pigments of man's vivid imagination, yearning for a fuller and more prosperous life. Wanting to jump fences meters tall, but needing to learn to walk first. The only thing she believes in is the beating of her heart, and sometimes that is hard to believe in.
"You change the world through rivers of blood," he had told her, while his hand grasped painfully at her hair and the air was hot and heavy. "Why?" she had asked him in barely a whisper, mustering up all the strength she had. Why was he doing this? Why was he doing this to her?
He had smirked and told her, "because you have all the answers" and then she felt a sharp pain in her stomach as he punched her, hard, as hard as a lorry hits an innocent pedestrian; and she was left lying on the filthy floor gasping for breath. She saw a glint of gold infront of her, contrasting brightly with the dull browny black of the dirt. She reached forward and clasped her hand round her necklace. She could now believe in the beating of her own heart again.
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