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My death went a little like this.

I was walking home alone when I knew I shouldn't be. There was a reason I never let my friends go home by themselves after dark. I was the safe one, the cautious one. The paranoid one who didn't like walking home alone. I would at minimum be on the phone with someone if I didn't have a body with me.

Except that night.

I was tired. I had spent all day in the library reworking the thesis of my research paper. My mind was consumed with a conclusion which was half-assed at best, but would have to do and the beginnings of a migraine starting to squeeze behind my eyes. I didn't care about safety by that point. I was too tired and grumpy to talk to anyone at one in the morning over a five minute walk down a well lit street.

I steeled myself for the chill filing away another mental reminder to by a thick coat, and out I went. I noted that the Pot Circle had decided to settle at the side of the library, tucked into a quiet alcove tonight and crossed the street to the side of the road bordering the Ravine. The Pot Circle was basically harmless, the worst they'd ever done was give out questionably "organic" brownies. I just didn't want to deal with the smell or people in general anymore than I had to.

It was a quiet chilly evening and there was something soothing about walking beside the silent greenery of the Ravine, passing below the hanging trees and looking down the sloping green dip to where the amphitheater settled in the middle. It was empty tonight, much like most of our "suitcase campus" on Thursday nights.

I left the Pot Circle behind quickly reaching the bend in the sidewalk the drifted off towards downtown.

My dorm was straight passed the bend on the other side of the road and I ducked impatiently around a parked car, not wanting to wait to reach the crosswalk.

I rammed right into someone else.

I would have fallen on my face if he hadn't grabbed me. I wasn't very big, a little under 5'2" and the man I rammed into was had a good foot and a good amount of poundage on me. I looked up a thank you on my lips and went still feeling awkward at the smiling face I found. He had dark eyes, I couldn't tell the color and I noticed he was dressed pretty snazzy, clean cut with a nice shirt tucked in and a nice jacket. He looked like one of the frat brothers on a business casual day. His dirty blond hair was neatly part and combed too. All in all he looked pretty put together and harmless despite his size.

His smile made my skin crawl in a familiar sort of warning.

I tried to step back to get out of his personal bubble and found his hands no longer barely noticeable weights, but pressing firmly down. Alarm bells went off instantly and I threw myself down and back like I'd been taught to.

I almost got away. He clearly hadn't expected it, but before I could be out of range he managed to get a hold on my backpack and jerk me back. Panic was starting to set in and I opened my mouth to scream attempting to duck my chin to my chest before he could get an arm around my throat. He skipped that entirely and the hand not holding my backpack grabbed the bottom half of my face smothering the "No! Help!". His hand was huge and he pulled me back to the sidewalk and forward to one of the cars I'd been attempting to pass.

"It isn't nice to lie." he told me and his voice was smooth, pleasant, cheerful, familiar. I'd last heard it a little over a year before telling me about where he was going to take me when he found me.

"You said it wasn't you." he continued opening the door and ignoring my flailing as he pushed the both of us into the back of the car using his weight to press me down.

He kept talking, but I couldn't focus on the words anymore. Tears of terror started to burn in my eyes and my heart hammered. I needed to escape. I needed to scream. I needed help. God somebody help me! Notice, come on! Acting on instinct I opened my mouth feeling his palm against my lips and dug my teeth into the flesh, tearing it and tasting a familiar copper. He gave a strangled scream and tried to pull away but I dug in harder, not thinking clearly or at all anymore.

Then his weight lighted and something hard hit the back of my head making me black out for the first time in my life.

I didn't wake up. Which I was almost grateful for. Going through that again was too painful to contemplate.

Or rather I did wake up. Just not in the same place I'd left. I was always fond of self-insert fanfics as an indulgence, because a surprising amount were well written and interesting. I just didn't expect to live one.