Ziva walked into the bullpen that Thursday morning to see McGee sitting at his desk staring into space. His eyes were filled with incessant longing. Green irises, soft and kind, nothing like the jokes and games she always saw in Tony.
"McGee?" Ziva whispered. His gaze passed through her as if she did not exist. Abby walked into the bullpen, which only intensified the look on his face. Abby was wearing a shorter than usual skirt with a white blouse she occasionally wore to court. Today, however, she did not have her hair done up in its usual pigtails, rather, she had let it flow down past her shoulders in gentle waves of black. Her wrist cuffs were missing, and Ziva could catch glimpses of faint exposed scars she seemed tired of hiding. But there were no other visible scars that she could see which only intensified the mystery of her past. The pink lines from years ago appeared to be in the shape of letters that were difficult to make out at this angle. Ziva took another look at Abby's face. Without her pigtails, Abby looked a lot more mature and pretty. McGee drank in the sight of her, not looking away even for a second as she came up to Ziva's desk looking very casual in her platform shoes that made her about three inches taller than she really was.
"Sorry for the other day, Ziva. I have no idea what got into me. You guys are only trying to help…" She glanced around the bullpen and looked back at her friend.
"It is over and done," Ziva said quickly. "How are you today?"
"Oh, getting by, as you know," Abby replied casually, leaning against what, a long time ago, used to be someone else's desk. "Some days are easier than others,"
"Where are your wrist cuffs?" the Israeli questioned. "I normally don't see you without them," Abby looked down at her wrists and frowned. She was silent for some minutes.
"Seems I forgot them," she said finally. "Which is strange, I never forget my accessories,"
"What happened to your wrists, Abby?" McGee asked, coming to his senses enough to speak. She suddenly spun around to face him, and suddenly he wished he had just kept his mouth shut.
Three times. Avery managed to rape Abby three more times before Monday. He wasn't detected at all. Out of fear Abby kept silent about it. But, of course, just her luck that very same day things had to get worse. After school they stopped by Avery's house for the first time since they started dating. He gently led her inside.
"Where…where are we going?" Abby managed to ask. She tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. She licked her lips nervously and looked around. Boxes were everywhere, and only a few of them were half open. Most of the furniture was still packed away, but it was clear the living room set was from another decade entirely by the looks of the couch and the armchair. Abby hurried to keep up with Avery. He turned down to a hallway and made a sharp left two doors down. But before she could enter he slammed the door shut.
"Gotta make some changes is here," Avery explained from behind the closed door. After a moment, he let her into the most dark and disturbing room Abby had ever seen. She knew he had goth ways as well, but this…she had no idea what this was. Pictures of Nazis torturing Jews were everywhere, including the identical twin experiments. He was also a fan of weapons, by the looks of the sketches of knives, guns, and other murder weapons. There were even some unusual ones, such as a guitar or a paperclip. What made it more disturbing was that the drawing showed how to kill or hurt someone with these items. The room was very dark. The bedspread featured blood splatters, which Abby was a fan of, but she had to make herself believe that they were fake and just part of the design. The wastebasket was full of failed drawings and Post it notes. More Post its covered the walls and ceiling. Some of them had fallen to the floor. Avery flicked on the light, and a dull red bulb came on, dully illuminating the room with a blood colored light.
"Now, for those pretty wrists of yours…I think they need a new decoration," Avery pulled out a knife and stalked toward her. "Just a little reminder of what I made you, my precious Abigail. A goth whore," Abby tried her best to shut out the pain, but she still felt the knife slicing open her exposed skin, carving letter after letter on her wrists. Finally, when it was over, Abby crawled onto the bed and curled up into a little ball. Blood was everywhere, matching the sheets and the sinister light above her head. The blood soaked through her skirt and shirt there was so much of it. Avery was long gone, his latest deed done. She was so shocked she couldn't even scream in pain, or even scream for help for that matter. But she knew she had to stop the bleeding before she passed out. Using her basic medical experience, she managed to wrap her arms up tightly enough to get the bleeding under control. Finally, after an hour of waiting, she was sure it was safe to go home and get herself cleaned up.
Abby continued staring in blank horror, but managed to recount all of the events without having a complete breakdown this time, though everyone could see she was trying very hard not to fall apart.
"Can't you just…please…leave me alone?" Abby begged, just before running for the stairs.