Disclaimer: I do not own Make it or Break It, the characters, or anything that is related to such in this story. I am using it for entertainment and making no money off of it.

A/N: This is my first Make It or Break It story…so I'm not so sure that it's very good. I know where I'm going with it, so you'll see, I suppose. Stick with me if you'd like. It could eventually turn into a Sasha/Payson fic, but a long way down the road.

Summary: When Payson Keeler's world starts to fall apart, she turns to the The Rock and her coach to keep her from breaking entirely. Can this gymnast overcome the worst to be successful? Warning: Rape Mentioned

Love Me

Her mind raced as she allowed her body to float through the air, her feet landing flat on the mat below her, knees bent until she was sure of her footing. Standing up, the blonde saluted the imaginary crowd, her eyes never opening as she imagined their cheers, felt the warmth of knowing she'd just performed a routine that could very well win her an Olympic gold someday. It was a moment of allowing her love of the sport overcome her fears of reality.

The moments of her focus broke as she heard someone take a few steps behind her. Opening her eyes and taking in a gasp of breath – a movement which sent shearing pain through her torso and immediately made her crouch over her own body – the gymnast fell to the ground and curled into a fetal position. Being alone in the gym she called home had been one thing. She had felt safe. Having someone else enter the gym and potentially hurt her was another altogether.

Granted, she had no reason to be in the gym, either. The star had broken in at two in the morning, thankful that her coach had put a combination lock on the door which she was able to procure the code to. Still, she was bound to be in trouble. Thus, she hadn't expected the soft, gentle voice that was behind her, trying to comfort her and lure her to trust.

"Payson," Sasha Belov murmured. "What happened to you?"

His voice made her role over slowly, revealing a battered and bruised figure around the black and orange leotard she'd put on that morning. Her face was covered in cuts from being pushed through a glass window, the rest of her body covered in hints of blues and purples. Wanting to avoid her parents and having to explain herself, she'd instead come to The Rock, where she could ignore the aches in her body and soul to train, to count on something permanent in her life.

Refusing to look up, the blonde simply shook her head, wincing as she rolled over into a standing position, walking to the next apparatus. She stood by the beam, mounting and running an old routine, one which she hadn't touched in months, since before she had injured her back – before she was an artistic gymnast.

She was hardly aware of Belov's presence following her. She winced with each movement, but refused to admit it to anyone, most importantly, herself. Payson was going to nail the apparatus, even if she was too tall for a few of the elements anymore. Pushing through, she did well until her dismount, slipping and landing on the floor.

"I've told you, time and time again, Payson. You can't land that anymore," she heard her coach's voice ring out softly. Payson shook her head, closing her eyes and allowing the tears to fall. All she wanted was the control she'd lost. All she could dream of was working out to ease the pain, to ignore it. Without warning, Belov took half a step closer to his star gymnast – his personal champion. "Will you please talk to me rather than trying to kill yourself by reverting to the ways of a power gymnast?"

Nodding slowly, the blonde looked up at her coach, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. "I walked to the grocery store to pick up eggs and milk," she explained softly. "I was attacked on my way home. I called my parents, told them I was going to Kaylie's. Instead, I'm here." Her voice was even and confident the entire time. Payson dried her own tears and stood up. "I'm fine, however, and I simply want to move on."

"Attacked how," Belov pushed softly. "It looks like someone worked a number on you, and I can't let you train until I know what happened and if you've been looked at."

"I'm fine," she insisted, her voice threatening to break.

"You're not fine."

"Like you would know," Payson hissed, looking up at her coach. She'd been violated, and now he was pushing to know more than she was ready to share. It was unfair. It was uncomfortable. "I have some cuts and bruises to cover up, but that's all. Honestly. I just want to train, to get ready for nationals so I can make the Olympic team and prove to the world that Payson Keeler isn't the person who allows a random man off of the street, one who insists he's a fan, take advantage of her."

Belov took a step back as Payson spoke. She barely recognized her own strangled voice. "And now," she continued. "If you'll excuse me, I need a shower before the girls get here. And then we will work on my new vault. Understood?"

Shaking his head, Belov walked to his office wordlessly. Payson sighed, closing her eyes and swallowing hard as she wandered to the locker room. Taking her shower caddy from her personal locker, the gymnast picked a stall. She slowly peeled her leotard from her body, thankful she always had a collection of extras at the gym. She winced as she stepped out of it, turning the water on as high and hot as she could. Reaching for her washcloth, she lathered it with lavender body wash, scrubbing as hard as she could to wipe the feeling of her attacker's hands off of her body and remove the physical evidence in dried blood.

Her shower lasted until the water ran cold before she shut it off, letting her hand linger over the knob for a moment as she thought about starting all over, showering again, erasing the memories by rubbing her skin raw, but she went against it. Slipping on a pair of nude leggings before slipping on her purple leotard, the gymnast put her things away and walked out onto the floor.

Bustling with commotion, Payson looked around. She knew her face still looked bad and she'd been unable to cover all of bruises on her arms, she was at least thankful no one could see her legs. She took in her coach working with the level 2 gymnasts and forced a small smile at her sister, who looked perplexed. Not saying a word, she walked to the vault and closed her eyes, allowing herself to see the trick she longed to complete successfully.

Taking off at a run, the gymnast executed her move flawlessly, groaning at the pain she felt during her salute. She trained her eyes on Sasha as he walked over, keeping his hands from touching her. She knew he was doing it to keep her feeling safe. The gym was home. The gym was safety. "Where do you hurt?" his rugged voice posed under his breath.

"Everywhere," she finally admitted, biting her lower lip.

"My office, I'll be up in a moment," her coach informed her. She turned on her heels, walking slowly, careful not to make anything worse than it already was. Reaching his office, she fell into a chair, tucking one leg under her uncomfortably.

"So, Payson," Sasha said as he opened the door, causing her to jump and turn to face him. He shook his head and continued. "You need to tell me the whole truth right now. And, I will remind you, you're a terrible liar."

Thinking for a moment, Payson nodded and pursed her lips before taking in a deep breath and answering.

"I was raped."

A/N: So, that's Chapter One. I know where I'm taking it, and I feel like this was a round about way of getting there. Please read and review?