Her head throbbed. Her ribs pounded. Her stomach flipped. Her legs ached. Her lungs burned.

Her eyes opened.

It was dark and damp, cornered by a vast expanse of nothingness. Her eyes were trying to adjust to the surroundings, but the throbbing in her head made her lack focus.

She tried to lift her body, but it felt like a dead weight. It seemed as if only her eyes were moving, and analysing the situation.

It came back then, in flashes. The drive to the pit, the walk there, the note on the rope. The push.

She'd fallen down. And now she lay there, immobile, with no idea how long she'd been like that.

She seemed to be on her front, cheek to the ground, arms and legs in all directions. She managed to turn her head slightly, and look in the direction from that she thought was the top of the pit.

Now her eyes had just about adjusted, it looked as though there may be a faint sunset. If she strained hard enough the pitch black turned into a more misty blue hazed with the tiniest hint of orange. It must be sunset.

Taking in the fact that she'd fallen so many feet down was one thing, but being down there was something entirely different.

Her recollections were coming back in drips and drabs. She'd got to the pit in the morning. How was it so dark now?

She'd been unconscious. For over 12 hours she must have been lying unconscious on the pit floor.

Again another memory surfaced. She thought she'd heard a sound coming from the pit, which is why she'd bent down closer.

It dawned on her. Someone was waiting for her. They'd purposely waited until she'd found the message, and then pushed her. She kicked herself while in this almost paralytic state, she hadn't been a cop. She hadn't checked her perimeter and she hadn't stayed safe.

The original mess was now so much worse than could have possibly been thought, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Her mind kept going back to the sound. She knew she'd heard something, and it definitely came from within the pit.

She also knew for well that her time was running out. The longer she stayed lying on the ground, the more likely the chances of her injuries sustaining. She needed to move, and fast.

Drawing in a deep breath, she shook either arm. She could slowly feel the blood recirculating in her arms. Once she'd regained feeling, she tried to push herself up from the ground. Her chest was like a dead weight, too much for her arms to handle.

Instead she tried to turn over. Forcing all her weight to one side, she pushed her body towards the left, and somehow mustered up the strength to roll herself over onto her back.

Pain seared through her lungs again, coursing it's way through her body, tearing at every shred of nerve she had. How was she alive?

She'd fallen over 10 feet and lived. How was she alive?

This time, and more slowly she urged her body forward to lift herself up off the floor. With great difficulty she managed to get herself seated upright.

Head still pounding, she arched it forwards, burying it in her hands. She felt something warm coat her hands, and then she smelt it.

Blood.

She could now feel it running down her face, inscribing itself deep into her tender skin.

It's source seemed to come from her head. Reaching her hands further up, she could feel it's origin. Her hair had matted together, and stuck to the large wound on the left of her scalp.

Bringing her hands down, she placed them on the floor. Taking in more heavy breaths she rationalised her thoughts. If she had any chance of sorting out these injuries she had to get out.

She still hadn't managed to get her legs moving. They were out in front of her, taunting. As hard as she tried to shake them, she couldn't get movement.

Putting her hands to them, they felt rigid. She'd been a cop too long to noticed sustained injuries.

With bloodstained hands she tried to massage both the upper and lower part of her legs. They needed to move, she needed to move.

Slowly but surely she felt herself regaining feeling once again, and soon was content that her body way functioning despite its wounds.

It was almost metaphoric. She carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, fought a battle for so long for both her sake and her mothers, only to end up in an entirely new war of her own.

It was time. With extreme care, she pushed herself up off the ground.

The pain was unlike anything she'd ever felt before, and that way saying a lot considering everything she'd been through. Every inch of her body wanted to give up, to stop, but she fought it fiercely.

At last she was standing upright. The pain was slowly getting more unnoticeable, more due to the fact that her mind was now preoccupied.

She needed to search for a way out. She'd survived, she'd manage to move, to stand; and now she was getting out of here.

Arms outstretched in front of her, she walked continually until her hands touched a surface. They felt the cool dampness of the pit wall.

Keeping her hands pressed to the wall, she decided to walk the circumference, checking the wall for anything useful.

First step and the wall felt the same, similarly the next few steps had the same outcome.

What must have only been a few meters around, her hands had felt something cold and shiny. She still couldn't make anything out clear enough.

It was then she remembered her phone. The hope was only short lived however, because she knew full well it would have smashed in the fall.

She resorted to examining the surface by its feel. Running her hands across it again, it felt smooth. Like some kind of metal. Hitting it with her knuckles produced nothing of insight. It was roughly square shaped, with sides about 30 centimetres. Nothing else about it gave out any more information.

She made a mental note to come back to it later. She began walking again, observing even more closely the walls texture and appearance.

Though it was still pitch black, her adjusted eyes could make out the sight of faint stones embedded into the walls along with other debris.

Carrying on, she felt as though she had almost walked the whole circumference. It seemed about the same distance as above the pit. She was about to stop when her legs hit something in front of her.

It was soft, and came up to just above knee height. She bent down.

The joints in her knee gave way as she bent down, and she ended up releasing a scream. The pain was agonising, and the scream mirrored this.

After moments, she managed to sit herself up. Careful not to put weight on her knees just yet, she held her hands out ahead of her in search for what her legs came across.

She felt it again, this time with her hands. It was soft, almost material like. Moving her hands further along the length of the object, she came across a new texture.

It was somewhat less soft, but smooth, and wrinkled. In an instant her hand jerked away from it.

She knew what it was.

Skin.

The object, it was a person.

She needed to see whether they were alive.

Putting a hand out yet again, she hesitantly felt for the body again. It was hunched over, curled up, back against one of the walls.

This was by far one of the most terrifying experiences she'd ever had to face.

Hand back on the material, she judged it to be some kind of soft fabric. Hands moving to the right, the she felt the softer cotton of a shirt. Moving again to the right and there was something long and narrow. It felt almost like a tie.

Hands moving upwards instead this time, she confirmed the presence of a tie. Her hands reached skin. The neck it seemed. This is what she's been looking for.

She held out two fingers and placed them on the side of the neck to check for a pulse. It was faint, but it was there. It was much too slow, and much too faint, looking as though it wouldn't last much longer than a day.

She was alive. He was alive (or so she assumed as a result of the tie). Was he a businessman? Some sort of father figure?

Moving her hands away from his neck, she reached for the wall in order to try and push herself up.

She hadn't reached high enough. Her hand had touched something soft and greasy.

Hair.

Her brain buzzed, a switch flipped.

To confirm suspicion, she reached her way back down to the clothes material, and found a pocket. Hand inside, it came across a small object. No bigger than a few centimetres, with jagged edges and a rough surface. A shell.

Their shell.

Tears streamed down the side of her face, she could taste them as they fell past her mouth, mixing with the blood that also still dropped freely.

The body. It was Castle's.