Hello to all my readers.

This is my very first posted fanfic, but please don't let that stop you from telling me that I suck. It's ok. Really. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Rated M for language, sexual situations, and violence.

Disclaimer: I only own my OC; everything else is Disney's.

I woke up feeling like shit.

Well, it was actually more like I became aware of the fact that I was feeling like shit. I had yet to actually wake up.

But all that mattered was that I was in pain. Lots of pain.

Every ambient sound around me had been amplified tenfold in my head, producing lots of ringing and nausea. The chirping of crickets sounded like a hundred whistles being blown simultaneously in a gymnasium; the light wind sounded like a hurricane blowing in my ear. Even the ground beneath me seemed to me moving beneath me like is as on a spinning top.

Fortunately, I knew these symptoms well enough to diagnose the problem. Unfortunately, the severity that I was experiencing said symptoms made the problem a whole lot worse.

This was not a good hangover.

This is not the "wild, party night in Vegas, take a few Advil in the morning" hangover.

No. This was the "wake up on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, stripped naked with your kidney missing," hangover.

How ironic was it then, that when I painfully opened my eyes, I found myself staring at a brown ground.

Fuck

I inhaled deeply through my nose and sucked in a good amount of dry dirt that I immediately sneezed back out violently, making my headache worse even still.

Yup, definitely dirt.

I closed my eyes again and tried to roll onto my back, but stopped as I felt something very large and very hard press against my spine and my head. Cautiously, I reached up to my shoulders and felt rough straps on each side.

Guitar. I thought, and when the significance of that information hit, my brain added Odd.

I moved my hands down over my body. My clothes were still on.

And no missing body parts from what I could tell.

I sat up and forced my eyes open, sending another wave of gut rot through my body. It was still dark wherever I was; the only light coming from various lamps on the surrounding buildings. Unfortunately, the light was not bright enough for me to make out what the building might be or where they would be located.

Figuring that I might as well take a look around, I got up on my feet. But no sooner had I taken my first step forward, I was laying face down on the ground again; partly because of my hangover and partly because there was something rather large right in front of me.

I raised my head and spit out dust, feeling something soft underneath my shins. Looking back over my left shoulder I saw the faint outline of a bag.

My bag.

I wasn't really sure how I knew it was mine because I never remembered having it with me for over a month. But something in the back of my brain went HEY! That's yours…

Moving on my hands and knees, I crawled over to it, and surveyed it in the limited light. It was a sturdy black fiber with the initials ALV embroidered on one end.

Definitely mine.

I quickly unzipped the main compartment and rummaged through the contents until I pulled out a blue glass bottle with BAWLS was written in white on the side. Before the metal cap I had taken off and tossed aside could hit the ground, the heavenly liquid was pouring down my throat and into my stomach. Almost immediately, the headache began to subside and Mother Nature's orchestra backed off, leaving me with a much clearer head and sharper vision.

Some people take medication to help subside the after effects of alcohol. Others ate tones of meat in the morning. I drank caffeine.

As my vision began to clear I noticed another, smaller athletic bag laying next to the first. It looked as if it were going to explode; it was packed so tight. I recognized it was my gym bag.

And it was at this sight that the warning bells in my head began to go off. Cautiously I looked around again taking in the details around me while simultaneously trying to remember what happened before I passed out.

The last thing I recalled was me hitting concrete. Concrete. So why did I wake up on a dirt surface. But I couldn't even remember why I had passed out in the first place. I assumed it was alcohol because, yes I admit, I'm a slight addict, and drinking was something I did on a regular basis. However, it had been quite a while since I had experienced a hangover as bad as this one.

Maybe I was drugged.

That would explain why I felt like crap and couldn't remember anything.

But what about these bag?

Why would someone drug me, move me, but leave all this stuff here with me? I don't even know what was in the bags; well besides the Bawls. The more I tried to remember what I had been doing the night before, the more the images seemed to escape me.

But before I could think any further, as scream ripped through the air like a knife through hot butter, and was stifled as quickly as it had come.

Figuring I might as well try and find out what the fuck was going on, I grabbed my bags and began walking briskly towards the general direction of the scream. I assumed I was going the right way, as the muffled shouts and a low mumblings becoming clearer. Passing through the maze of buildings, I briefly noticed the strange, almost archaic architecture they held.

But that observation quickly vanished as I heard a low, slurred voice say, "…don't move, this 'ill be over quick lil' miss…"

Now certain that someone was, a girl, was in considerable distress, I continued forward, vaulting over a four foot, stone wall (not an easy feat with three pieces of luggage) and landing in yet another alley way.

And it was there that I saw them. They were but shadows, but I saw them.

The girl had her chest pushed up against the brick side of building by a large, presumably male, figure dressed in an overly large coat and very tight pants. One hand was against her neck, holding it against the wall while the other was slung over her shoulder and down her shirt. He was rubbing his hips from side to side against the small of her back, most likely to let her know of his growing arousal.

I continued to stay in the shadows; I didn't want to walk into some kinky little bedroom game some horny couple had decided to play.

But then I saw the gleaming tears down her cheeks and her almost silent whispers.

"Please…please. Don't do this. Please…"

And at that moment I knew that this was real. The tone; those words; those tears. They were all real. This girl was about to get raped. And while I may have ignored a lot of things in my life, this was not one.

So I set my bags down and started moving my way out of the shadows and towards the assailant. As I was culminating my plan of attack, I noticed a small pile wood scrap piled under a window. Pulling a three foot piece out as silently as I could, I slipped my body against the opposite wall and began to slid down towards the attack.

As I was getting nearer, I saw that the girl's left breast was exposed and watched as the man's hand began to hike her dress up. I was running out of time.

Taking two steps forward until I was diagonal to the man's left should I said, "Hey,"

As soon as his head turned the wood smacked across his face with such force that the piece broke in two and a sickening crack shot through the sky.

The man stumbled to the backwards clutching his face and blood began to flow. But he had gotten no more than two steps backwards before I tackled him to the ground. Straddling his chest, I rained blow after blow upon his face; left, right, left right; sending his blood, as well as my own, flying into the air. He tried using his hands to protect his face, but the force of my punches only caused him to repeated smack himself. As his resistance became weaker, so did my adrenaline; my hands were beginning to sore and soon I had stopped the punches and only stared at his face, which was becoming more swollen by the second.

"Son of a bitch," I said before I kneed him in the crotch.

I rose slowly, never staring down at the bloody face beneath me, but instead looking over to the silently weeping girl now slumped on the ground.

I slowed my breathing and looked at my hands. The force of my punches had split the skin on most of my knuckles and was oozing a thin coat of crimson. Looking back up I, moved a step closer.

"Hey," I said in the gentlest tone I could muster. "Are you ok?"

As soon as I crouched down to her level, she threw her arms around me and began crying, loudly, into my shoulder.

"Shhhhh…" I whispered; patting her back. "It's ok. Everything is going to be fine. He's not going to bother you anymore, I promise."

"I…I was just…walking back to my house. And…and he, he grabbed me and drug me back here. And he said if, if I screamed that he would kill me…and then he almost…he almost…"

"I know," I interrupted, not wanting her to go into shock from recalling the events.

Grasping her shoulders, I pulled her up.

"Look, you're going to be fine. Just, breathe and relax."

Her sobs began to subside, and as she raised her head, I saw her face for the first time. Although it was still dark, I could make out the basic features of her face.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Elizabeth." She replied in a much bolder and confident voice, which made me feel loads better.

"Alright Elizabeth," I said as I moved and grabbed my luggage. "Which way is your house?"

She stared at me, and for a moment I thought she might faint or something.

"You're going to take me home?" She asked.

"Well of course," I replied, hauling the bags over my shoulders and wincing slightly from the pain in my hands. "I want to make sure that you get home ok. And I don't really think you want to make that trip alone, do you?"

She shook her head.

"Well then, I suggest me get moving."

Slowly she turned and began walking, with me treading at her heels. For the first few minutes we moved in silence. She didn't seem to want to discuss what had transpired only minutes ago and I didn't push it. I knew it was difficult to talk of things like that.

But to my surprise, Elizabeth broke the wall of silence.

"What is your name?"

Such a simple question.

Now, I knew my name. I really did. That wasn't what stopped me dead in my tracks and procured a strange glance from Elizabeth. It was the amount of time that particular information took to get from my memory to my mouth. This caused me more distress than the fact that I woke up in the middle of a strange town and the fact that I almost watched an attempted raping.

"Annalisa." I said finally and slowly resumed walking; trying desperately to remember what the fuck I had forgotten.