Disclaimer: I don't like giving spoilers but it's these type of chapters that make this story M rated! You have been warned.

There wasn't much to say or do between the pair. Not to mention that the woman was intent on staying silent. Coffee cups still in hand, heated up twice yet only halfway emptied, they ended up finding themselves' engrossed in the anime playing in the background. TVTokyo was a strangely satisfying channel to watch for both them. Though, the unknown woman wasn't currently very invested, with her thoughts going wild about Izaya's earlier rant. And now that they had watched three episodes in silence, Izaya was getting restless.

"Jane-chan~" he whined, "I'm bored."

The woman glanced at him in the corner of her amber eye. He was leaning comfortably back, sitting to her right on the white suede couch that thankfully wasn't stained with red. She hadn't cleaned or mopped the floor from the idiots last night but at least there wasn't any mud… or blood. But the coffee table had a broken leg from the big guy half falling onto it. Upon asking about it before, Izaya replied waving a hand, 'He's fine, he's fine,' the male said.

Blinking out of her thoughts, "If you're bored then why are you still here?" she countered sipping from her steaming mug. She could have smirked if not for having their earlier conversation. Wrapping both hands tightly around the coffee-cup, not caring that it was rather hot, she set it back down to her lap.

The male couldn't help thinking she had a good point… "Entertain me!" Izaya childishly commanded giggling at the way her brows instantly furrowed. He made sure his tone was playful like most of the time though, his words were excessively direct; straight to the point. That's what was a little uncharacteristic. Normally he'd bend his speech carefully, calculate every outcome and ensure on receiving the most desirable… How peculiar. "Jane-chan~ Come on! Won't you tell me at least a little about your past?" he continued anyway, somewhat wondering if this would work. It was Jane-chan after all.

The woman stifled an ironic laugh, "If you tell me about your's," she turned her head to him giving him a curl in her lips. And though it reached her eyes, Izaya could tell it was false.

"Now why would I do that?" the raven asked silkily giving her the same expression.

"Exactly," she whispered harshly. "If you wouldn't, then why would I?" the brunette expected silence to follow in her shut down. The unknown woman turned back to the television, obviously still not in the best of moods. All she wanted was to have some time to herself but this total ass next to her wouldn't goddamn leave. No matter how rude the female was or how much she ignored him.

Izaya hummed in thought, "Because I want you to!" The woman rolled her eyes shaking her head incredulously, "Jane-chan? I wanted to ask," he paused, deciding to go with his usual method when wanting something, "Do you trust me?" The question was so simple, but knowing the woman, her answer would be anything but.

The brunette couldn't help feeling like it was a random question but went with it. If she didn't then he'd probably just press on about something else. "In one way yes; but with everything else, absolutely not," she spoke quickly for him not to get the wrong idea, but it was extremely vague.

"Ouchy~ My feelings!" he whined sarcastically. Though, it was different to this morning when they were joking around. The female gazed at him in slight surprise. Did that actually hurt him? She decided not to mention it still pretending to watch the TV screen. "What is that said 'one way', though? Hmm?" he asked.

The woman thought for a moment, glancing at her covered wrists, "I don't think you'd ever hurt me physically," her voice came out more weak and sugary than what she intended. "Mentally, however, you shank me all bloody the time," she added dryly to make up for her stumble. All these damn mushy-mushy feelings of Maemi Shimizu was getting out of hand. Why did Maemi have to be so kind and forgiving? Quite frankly, throwing in some Kyoko would do some good. Or was Kyoko's bad mood just getting to her?

Izaya giggled, "Well of course," he simply agreed, taking a sip. "By 'physically' you mean rape, do you not?" the male asked easily. He had earlier watched Jane Doe bow her head to gaze at or, more appropriately, past the hem of her long sleeves.

"Don't fucking say that word," she didn't shoot him a glare but her eyes had noticeably darkened.

Izaya strategically stayed silent for a few seconds, "Hmm… Hey Jane-chan?" Her golden eyes met his warningly. Casually, the male asked, "Did you ever go home, after?" She quickly looked away and shook her head. It was expected but… "Why not?" The woman brought the coffee to her lips and though it was liquid it was difficult to swallow. "Is your family dead?"

"No," she responded quickly, almost in a panic, "I didn't kill them if that's what you're asking."

"That thought never really occurred to me. Why did you bring that up? Did they do something bad?" his silky whisper crawled into her ears sending shivers up her spine.

This time the female was slow with her reply. She knew what Izaya was doing. He was attempting and succeeding in getting the woman all riled up so she would lose control and practically spew the words out in an emotional overload. She didn't want to be manipulated into telling him; and yet she was fucking falling for it anyway. "… Let's just say I wasn't kidnapped." She tried to hold it back but her bitter feelings about that day were boiling up and she couldn't keep her bloody mouth shut.

Izaya pouted in thought, "I don't understand. You're making it sound like one of your family members did the 'deed' but you say you didn't kill them. But you also said a week ago that you murdered him. How does that work?" he giggled having no problem talking about this subject. Jane-chan bit her lip even harder and shook her head.

"No," she whispered, not wanting to put that much of a stain on her original family-name. "My father didn't do it-

"What about a brother, cousin?" Izaya went on, "Hell, it doesn't even need to be male, no?"

The brunette was back to answering quickly, "I don't have a brother. And I never met any of my cousins. And," she paused, "… He was a male. A man. He was my first kill and I enjoyed every, fucking, second of it." The woman found herself wanting to give a smile. However, immediately felt the wish disappear. She couldn't do it. She couldn't smile. The woman had killed him, and sure, it was good that he was gone and dead. Six feet under long, long, long ago.

She didn't have to be wary of his presences that always seemed hovered over her in the past. She didn't have to feel that queasiness in her stomach and that shutter in her chest whenever the man was around. She didn't have to worry that he'd come up to her and roughly force her around; shoving her to hands and knees. She didn't have to feel his disgusting hands all over her body! Him ripping her clothing off and using the material to muffle her screaming! She didn't have to feel him slamming himself into her as she'd try and resist his continuous abuse! Because it wasn't continuous anymore! She had put an end to it, didn't she? He was DEAD!

And yet… and yet, she still-

"I hate him," the girl whispered face contorting in rage, her eyes reflecting the lights from being glazed over. "I hate him," she repeated it louder and louder again and again. "I hate him so fucking much… But he's dead. I can't make him hurt anymore. I can't get back at him over and over like what he did to me. I should have kept him alive. I should have tied him up, starved him, weakened him, tortured him again and again-" the woman only just realized she was speaking out loud. She looked up at Izaya who was gazing at her like she was the most fascinating creature. Of course, he was. He was just as fucked up as her.

"Does that mean you killed him too fast?" he asked. The room was filled with silence for a while. But Izaya waited, knowing she was going to continuing whether wanting to or not. And he was right.

"I was forced into his room. He asked his men to leave." She whispered ever so quietly; remembered the red curtains, matching bed sheets and the dark cherry wood of the furniture. And the smell of cologne applied much too heavily, "He was living like a king," 'while rest of us were caged and tortured.' "As usual, I was tired up. And as usual, I fought as much I could." Her hands clenched into shaking fists. "It was actually the second time I broke my left wrist to get out of the restraints."

Hearing a sickening crack and feeling the familiar pop under her skin, she wiggled her wrist out of the metal constriction. Once free, one cuff around her right wrist while its twin dangled by the small chain, the girl forced her hands to the filthy man's eyes, only getting to rip out one with her good hand. Even so, the weight that was smothering her small frame instantly vanished. She was vaguely aware of the pain coming from her wrist and the other source being between her legs, at her core. For only a moment, she stared at the eyeball in her hand. It was shaking. She was shaking. She faintly heard yelling, too focused on the blood and what she was going to do next.

Being there many times before she knew the elder man always kept a blade under the mattress. With her breath hoarse, the brunette snatched it while he was still down. It was a dull blue and dark metal gray flip knife. The man, now on his hands and knees, had previously locked the doors thankfully. Otherwise, his men alerted by his screams would have barged in. They were banging at the door but the girl barely even cared. Once that door was locked, no one could get in or out without its special key.

Not hesitating, she attacked the groveling man. The feeling of the blade sinking into his lower back was so very pleasant. Jane Doe promised herself to forever remember how the knife pierced his skin. How the skin's elasticity stretched under her applying pressure. It stretched more and more until finally it broke and split open. It sunk in welcomingly but after about an inch, it became harder to force the weapon in. Her heart was exploding by the fearful terror and the exhilarating thrill of finally doing what she imagined for years. Taking the knife out was like wiggling out one of her loose baby teeth after her face was abused by a fist. His fist!

While the unclothed man was cradling his bleeding empty eye socket and wounded back screaming on the top of his lungs, the newly teen plunged the blade into his ass. She was aiming for his hole but didn't exactly know where it was. She didn't want to look as she thrust in the knife, not wanting to lose her nerve. But he deserved this! He deserved every fucking second! After torturing her years, she wanted to show him, taint and destroy his body the way he did to her. That's why… The girl looked down to make sure her aim was true. It turned out that she hit just above it and made the gape longer in length. She nearly threw up at the sight but the sound of his screams for help angered her. The rage overpowered her revolution by a hundred, no, by a thousand times!

How dare he call for help! How dare he even scream! HE DIDN'T DESERVE TO SCREAM!

The girl stabbed him again and again but he wouldn't stop! It didn't matter if her target was landed or missed. Anywhere! Anywhere! As long as she hit him! His pained yells rang in her ears like a constant headache. She threw him over to lie on his back bleeding ghastly amounts. Her breath was labored. As she inhaled, she could smell the hot crimson liquid on him mixing with the perfume. And she could smell it on herself. The bright red of the sheets was turning darker as his blood ran out of him; as if saying that it didn't want to be in his nauseating body anymore. She gave him one jab with the blade to his manhood and he let out one last howl of pain. He was dying. Tears were leaking from his unharmed eye as he was whimpering like the girls who gave up fighting him. But not her. Not Jane Doe.

He had lost… and she had finally fucking won!

"I pulled him by the hair like what he had done to me. And slowly, I cut his throat making sure that the last thing he saw was me… smiling." She took another sip of coffee, feeling much better about her decision now. "A pretty good story don't you think?" she prompted airily giving a small smile.

"Hmm… More so a fucked up story," Izaya mused sipping his near-to-finished coffee.

"Was that the first time I've heard you swear?" she mused back.

Izaya chuckled. He didn't usually use such profanities unless he wanted to make a point. There were rare occasions such as this, "Well, it was the only way to describe it. 'Messed up' would have been an understatement." He grinned. The woman gave a slight hum of agreement letting the raven chuckle once more. "You're not offended?"

"No, of course not. It is very fucked but… I don't I regret it," she said evenly, contradicting her early words.

Perhaps, recalling how much pain she inflicted onto the repugnant man was relieving in some way. However, she certainly didn't react that way to Adachihara's end… Was it due to actually being personal revenge? His smile widened greatly, "Fascinating." Izaya whispered.

Author here! So... I hope no one is scarred too badly. I think violence is okay to go graphic with, right? But sexual assault is an understandably sensitive topic. I want to aim more toward graphic to really make the audience understand and feel what this character is going through, but part of me couldn't help but hold back just a bit.

Let me know if you'd like me to tone it down a notch or maybe bump it up.