A/N: I cannot believe over a year has passed since I updated this fic! My sincerest apologises. Life. Anyway, here's to more regular updates!
[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 22nd September, 2015, are not mine. Anything else is mine.]
TRIGGER WARNING: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT
Within mere seconds, the thin material of Jane's favourite t-shirt had been ripped off her body, exposing her torso to the crisp wind whipping through Boston. Goosebumps rose quickly on her skin, multiplying when the cool blade of the knife began to lazily trail across her flesh once again.
With a manic smile on his face, the pressure applied to the blade by the man grew stronger, until skin was being sliced and a steady stream of blood trickled from Jane's chest and stomach. Jane bit her lip at this, trying but mostly failing to contain the slight whimpers that she was making. The cuts stung, but it was not the worst pain she had ever felt, and she tried to keep that in mind as the man shimmied down her body to sit below her knees, pinning her ankles to the ground.
As his hands found their way to the hem of her leggings, Jane could feel the panic rising in her chest. Desperate to escape the man's probing fingers she began to struggle to the best of her ability, surprised but relieved when the shrub she was attached to began to move in its place. Muted screams and the sound off her struggling were all that could be heard.
The man atop of her, frustrated by his thrashing victim, began an assault on her body, landing blows to her ribs and head. Darkness began clouding Jane's vision once again. With one final tug the shrub came free, allowing Jane to propel herself forward, bringing her arms down as she sat up, the shrub coming in contact with the man's head. Caught off guard he fell backwards, off her legs. The next few things happened in a matter of seconds. With as much brute force as she could muster, Jane bought her arms down by her sides, elbows on either side of her hips, snapping the zip ties connected to her wrists. Stumbling slightly, she managed to stand and fumble for her pants. She made it two steps before she was brought down, a crushing weight tackling her to the ground, strong, meaty fists pummelling their way into her sides, her back and her head.
Dizzy from yet another blow to her already concussed head, Jane was this time unable to fight back as the man wrenched down her pants and forced his way into her. She was lying prostrate, sticks scratching her exposed belly, dirt rubbing into stinging wounds.
And in that moment Jane was sure that this would be her demise. This is how it was going to end for her. Not in a hail of gunfire with her partners by her side, but alone, in the park, killed by an adversary she did not know, and wished she never had the chance to meet.
…
Shuffling down her hallway, flipping on light switches as she goes, Dr Maura Isles is unimpressed by whoever is banging her door down at this time of the morning. She had checked her phone – no missed calls, which meant that there was no dead body for her to examine, and therefore, nowhere for her to be other than tucked into bed sleeping.
She almost growls as the banging continues, but stops herself. Turning on the porch light she sees a slumped shadow illuminated through the window panes. It is hard to make out but by the hair alone she realises who it is, and is immediately sorry for her earlier thoughts.
Opening the door swiftly, unaware that the person on the other side is resting their full weight against it, she nearly doesn't catch her friend before she hits the ground. A shocked gasp rattles out of her chest, and she manages to choke out a name before the eyelids in front of her flutter closed.
"Jane."
A/N: Please R&R.