I'm so sorry I haven't updated! I've been incredibly ill for months now, and am just starting to recover. I just published a one-shot for Parks and Recreation, and I'm going to be updating both this and Carbon and Ash very soon. Thanks for sticking around with me!

*Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS*

The storm was over.

I fell to the floor, exhausted. The heat was relentless even as I lay on the cool concrete floor, listening to the sounds of my ragged breath. Every few seconds, I would hear a burst of shots. Sometimes, it would be in the distance. Sometimes, it was near my door. Sometimes, it was inside my head.

Blood, anger, fear, and death surrounded me on all sides. This place, this trap, held a thousand horrors. Over time, I had become one of them.

My whole body trembled and jerked with pain and exhaustion. My lips were coated in dust. It'd been almost a day since I'd had anything to drink. The desert sand leaked in through my barred window, and my throat burned. And yet, I still could not help but believe that I deserved this.

I wanted to give in to my failing body. I wanted release from the terrors of my own mind. For the first time in my life, I did not want to put up a fight. I wanted to die.

"NO!" I heard a man scream in the distance.

Another tortured prisoner, without a doubt. Everyone screamed like that at first… And then they would learn that screaming is what they wanted. These sick bastards weren't only interested in torture for information. They were in it for fun.

They had found me attractive when I was first captured, and they had their fun with me. They used to love trying to make me scream. They certainly loved beating me when I refused. But now they all looked at me with disgust. I could not blame them.

My entire body was covered in angry pink sunburn; my creamy almond-colored skin was no more. Both of my eyes were darkened and sunken in from the constant abuse. My veins stretched tight, fighting to break through my skin. My hair was so painfully matted that I had more than once considered finding a way to cut it all off – but there was none. A thin layer of blood covered most of my body now, as I had lost the energy and the will to scratch it off.

My beauty was gone, and my body was soon to give up. Breath after burning breath, I heard my lungs whistling and screaming. I wanted so badly to scream, to cry, to beg for help.

But my honor would not let me.

Alone and aching, my world faded into fuzzy darkness.

Freedom at last.

Woo! A little bit intense, right? Don't worry, Ziva's not dead. I wouldn't have the heart to do that!