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Post-Traumatic
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Jane paused at the sound, gesturing Maura to silence. There it was – that hiss that was so horribly familiar. She pulled her gun and dropped her keys in Maura's hands, moving slowly around her car, keeping a careful distance as she tried to examine every inch of the car and its surroundings through the memories swamping her.
A little boy, crying, in the middle of the woods, too far to hope for any help. A sharp hiss from the ground at his feet and she watched in horror as another set of fangs sunk into his leg.
He was crying quietly now, only begging her every other minute rather than every other breath, "Please…"
She shook her head sharply and pulled the car door open after a moment's hesitation. The breath rushed out of her as a suckerpunch to her gut, her heart. The pile of writhing scales and venom hissed some more and she had to work to hold back the hysterical sounds that kept trying to shred through her throat.
She heard Maura coming up behind her and the familiar presence grounded her long enough to regain her composure. The only allowance she made to the horror behind her vocal cords was two words, whispered rather than shouted because the thought kept echoing in her head that screaming wouldn't help them – wouldn't save him.
"Hate snakes."
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