A/N: This is going to be a dark story. It contains mentions of rape, and possibly self-harm, some of which may include graphic description. I will include a specific trigger warning at the beginning of each chapter.
[Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I offiliated with the Rizzoli and Isles franchise. Any characters and/or ideas associated with the show as of 16th September, 2014, are not mine. Anything else is mine.]
TRIGGER WARNING: NON-DESCRIPT MENTIONS OF RAPE/ASSAULT
Pain.
It is at a molecular level.
It is all consuming.
And fear.
Pain, and fear.
Fear unlike she has felt in a long time.
It propels her.
She moves.
It is far from easy.
The world around her comes in flashes, sights and sounds crashing into her sproadically.
The moments in between are blank.
She starts in the Gardens, groggily rolling to her back, a threat still alive in her mind.
Her vision blurs as she sits.
There's a gap, then she is stumbling forward, instinct driving her movements.
The pain is worse now, and she can barely see through the white spots clouding her vision.
But she must keep moving.
She doesn't know why, just knows that she must.
She comes to a road, and tries to cross.
The step is larger than she though, and she stumbles, jarring her tortured frame, setting in motion a downward trajectory.
Another moment passes, and she is crawling, reaching desperately for the pavement.
Somehow, she rights herself.
And then she hears them; footsteps.
And she remembers; she remembers that harsh voice, those malicious words: "I'll be back."
Panic floods her veins; tears stream down her face.
She starts to run, although to any third party it is more of a lurching motion than anything else.
Her body is doubled over in pain, air leaving her body faster than she can draw it in.
Momentum drives her, her battered legs barely able to hold her weight, let alone keep up with her staggering motions.
She coughs, wheezing and spluttering as she sinks to her knees, arms curled tightly around her torso.
A final moment moves by, longer than its predecessors.
And before she is even somewhat aware of what she is doing, her closed fist is coming down deserately on a familiar door.
And as time passes, and the pain begins to overwhelm her, her hand opens, exhaustedly rapping on the wooden barrier.
"Please," she begs silently.
And then, there is light, brighter than she has ever seen before.
The door is flung open, and her body, which had been restinng heavily against the sturdy frame, falls forward, knees buckling.
Strong hands are upon her, guiding her gently to the floor beneath her feet.
She hears her name, gasped out in terror.
It sounds distant, though.
A million miles away.
It is the last thing she hears before the darkness takes hold.
Her name.
"Jane."
A/N: Please R&R.