A/N: The cursive written happened in the past, so to speak, the night before that morning. + Trigger warning for domestic abuse/rape.
The ringing woke her. With one arm she groped for the alarm clock on the nightstand. When she still hadn't found it after a while, she raised her head to look around. A sharp pain ran through her and she immediately dropped it back on the pillow.
A soft curse escaped her. She brought a hand up and pressed it to her aching skull, thinking she could ease the pain somewhat. She turned onto her side and looked at the still ringing alarm clock. 5:30 a.m. Actually, it should be forbidden to get up this early.
She reached over to it and turned it off. As she did so, she noticed every bone in her body, felt every muscle, and felt her legs tingle. She knew -no, she felt- that he had done it again. She sank back, exhausted, and smacked her eyes shut. Desperate for an explanation, she came up with nothing. The only thing running through her mind was the question of how. How had it come to this again?
When she finally found the strength to swing her legs over the side of the bed, she straightened up on wobbly legs. As she made her way to the bathroom, some memories came flooding back.
The elevator doors closed and momentarily there was silence. No cameras clicking and no reporters wanting a question answered. Behind her and Andrew, her four agents, she felt safe. She pulled her cell phone out of her coat pocket and looked at the screen. Again, endless messages, emails and missed calls that she would deal with later. For now, she was only interested in the mail with the subject 'Change of date!" from Jay. She sighed heavily as she skimmed the few lines. She would have to get up early tomorrow. That would be difficult, after all, her jet-let was still coming...
Quickly her fingers tapped over the display and she set the alarm for 5:30 in the morning.
Once in the bathroom, which was adjacent to the bedroom, she looked in the mirror and rubbed her eyes with her hands before looking for her glasses and putting them on. The image in the mirror startled her. Her body was just shimmering blue. She had been too slow.
Too slow to squirm out of his aching grip before he gripped her even tighter and she had begun to whimper. When his hand had hit her cheek, however, she had instantly fallen silent.
She yanked her glasses back off her nose and stepped into the shower. Under the warm water, her tense muscles gradually relaxed. While she lathered up, her thoughts drifted back to the previous evening. More and more memories came back.
After she regained consciousness, she felt his breathing over her face. She was lying on a bed and he was towering over her. His breathing smelled of alcohol. It robbed her of her breath. Her body screamed for oxygen and she tried to gasp for air but couldn't get it to her lungs. His weight pressing her into the mattress made it impossible for her. She tried to say something, to draw attention to herself, but she couldn't. She slapped him on the back, harder and harder, until she felt dizzy. With the last of her strength she tried to push him off her and lift his weight. He did not react. When she had regained her senses, she felt his teeth against her now exposed chest. She cried out as he bit down.
She stopped short as she tried to shampoo her sore breasts. He had certainly had the metallic taste in his mouth. The bite marks were still clearly visible and she was sure that wearing the bra today was going to be a pain.
As he continued his way down her body, she tried to roll away. Just away from him. But she couldn't do that either, now that her hands were tied behind her back. She closed her eyes and fought the tears. She knew exactly what was about to happen. Knew that he had lost control of himself and had mutated back into the monster she hadn't been home for so long because of fear something like this would happen. When she felt him pull back and push her legs apart, she bit her lip. She didn't want to give him, the monster, the satisfaction of giving him what he liked so much. Still, she couldn't manage to suppress her body's natural reaction. As he rammed into her, her body reared up in pain and she threw herself to the side.
She scrubbed her body harder than she should have. She hated the feeling. She hated herself for letting it get this far again. She hated him for not getting a handle on his problems.
She stepped out of the shower and reached for the towel. She rubbed her body dry. As she thought back over her last memory of the evening, she realized where her headache was coming from.
She smashed her head against the head of the bed and everything went black.
Carefully combing her blond hair, she hissed briefly in pain as she touched the spot that had made acquaintance with the bedhead.
As she walked naked out of the bathroom and scurried into the hallway to find an outfit for today from her suitcase, she noticed that the door to the second bedroom was only ajar. Andrew's soft snoring reassured her. He was still asleep. If she hurried and was quiet, she would be gone before he would notice anything.
Throwing her clothes over her arm, she disappeared back into her bedroom. She closed the door quietly and sank down against it. Slowly, the events of the past day sank into her consciousness. Endless meetings, the flight to Brussels, the panic attacks, the conversation with Daisy and Nadine, and then Andrew's assault. She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath before struggling back up from the floor. Once again she noticed her aching legs. She could guess where it was coming from, but she didn't want to deal with it. Now she had to fulfill her obligation to her country, her friend, the president, and the world.
Finally fully dressed, fully made up and her hair done, she stole barefoot to the elevator, her heels, handbag and coat in her hand, respectively thrown over her arm. Holding her breath so as not to make a sound, she cursed the elevator doors for opening and closing so loudly. Already waiting for her in the elevator were two security agents, who now eyed her somewhat questioningly as she slipped her high heels over her heels. She could not suppress a smirk. It had taken her so long not to lose her balance and to row her arms like a duck on black ice every time. "Good morning, Ma'am."
She took a quick glance at her watch and decided that a good morning was already in order. After all, it was already 6:20 a.m. "Good morning," she replied with a broad smile that she gave to both of them.