A/N: Next chapters up, second in a day! Warnings from first chapter still apply.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted and favorited!

-oOo-

She lay there, stunned, in the minutes after his departure, as a blanket of despair at what had just happened smothered her senses, dulling the pain, and forcing tears to leak out of her bruised eyes down her swollen face.

She wandered if this was where she was going to die, on this cold, damp floor, covered only by her own blood. Alone. She didn't want to be alone. She thought about how they would react if they ever found out what had happened.

Rory's face, if he knew what that thing had done to her, would be unbearable. She dreaded the moment she would have to look into his eyes and see the shame, and the disgust, looking back at her. She was nothing, useless, sick- she didn't even stop him.

Trapped in her own disgust and despair, she let her mind numb the physical pain, and the harsh reality of the dark room outside. This morbid dampener didn't last long though, and after the initial shock, the pain and realisation came flooding back to her, every movement a razor blade; every breath agony.

She could feel herself slipping in and out of consciousness: the darkness threatening to overcome her at moments. Sounds became muzzier and more distant as the puddle of blood grew steadily around her. Amy didn't know much about blood loss- she left that type of thing to Rory- but she was pretty sure that if no one came soon, she would die.

She decided that she couldn't just go without seeing them again. She loved them, both: Rory and the Doctor. She needed them now, but they'd gone. Maybe, somehow, they had found out what had happened, and left in shame, not wanting to lay eyes on her now she was... Tainted. Used. The thought plunged her fuzzy brain back into the depths of despair, every sob wracking through her broken frame sending spasms through her body, and pulling her closer into the darkness' embrace.

She was so tired now; she just wanted to escape the mental torment, to accept the numbing dark...

A bang sounded in the corridor above, cascading down the stairs and echoing around the shadowy castle.

Amy jerked at the sudden noise, jolting her whole frame, sharp pains lacing through her like electricity. She drew in a sharp breath, bringing herself back from the numbing brink of unconsciousness and into the hands of the pain and the shameful, disgusting memories. Those were all she could think about for a long moment, but a persistent thought from her subconscious telling her that loud bangs usually meant trouble had fought its way through the thick fog in her head- and she was suddenly aware of loud coughing, then the best, sweetest thing she had ever heard;

"I do remember saying, quite clearly, we weren't going to use the gun powder!"

Amy could have cried then, hearing the Doctor- surely accompanied by Rory- again. She truly believed she would die before they found her. But they were here now; they had come to help her, to heal her, to make the pain go.

But then she remembered. They wouldn't want to help her after they knew what had happened. What she had let happen. They couldn't find her. She wouldn't let them. It was better for her to die knowing they still care, then to die having been abandoned by them after finding out what she had done- a look of disgust etched on their faces.

Two pairs of frantic footsteps echoed from the stairway, as Amy, panicking, quickly rolled over onto her side, into the stony wall, away from the light.

The movement sent white hot pain tearing through her screaming limbs and torso, and it was all she could do to keep from crying out. Her eyes rolled back into her head, her breathing speeding up, as sharp stabbing ripped through her like a knife. Blinding light flashed in front of her eyes, and it took all her power to cling onto consciousness- just to hear a couple more words from her boys.

"Rory, I'm sorry, but you should look at this."

"No. Oh, my god, no."

That was Rory, her Rory, Amy thought blearily as he talked, none of the meaning of the words registering in her brain.

If she had been more aware, she would have realised they had seen the sticky trail of thick blood. If she had been more alert, she would have panicked, realising that the blood led directly to her, like a sick arrow.

As it was, she just enjoyed the richness she had never noticed in Rory's panicked voice.

Footfalls neared, great thuds, shaking Amy's world- making her forget that these were her friends, as she was overcome with the memories. Panic shot through her, and she could only hope the arrival wouldn't hurt her too badly.

She heard a murmuring voice- but none of the words registered. Another pair of feet stomped over, and with a sinking feeling, Amy realised he had brought someone with him. This voice joined the other, and Amy moaned, despite herself.

Suddenly, hands were holding her, pulling at her, rolling her onto her back, and the panic she felt was doubled with the pain of being forced to move. It was too much for her, and she gasped; before crumbling into huge, rocking sobs.

The blurry shapes shifted above her, and she heard a faint murmuring, and suddenly someone was touching her face. Her heart hammered in her chest, her body jerking away from the hands. Moaning in pain, she pleaded for them not to hurt her again. The hands disappeared, and a gentle, soothing voice started talking.

Amy considered this for a moment, and finally, through her hazy state, she realised that she recognised the voice. It was an important voice, she remembered- a good voice. A kind voice. She focused through the involuntary sobs, and the blurry scene above her, on the voice, and what it was saying.

"Gone..." she made out.

She focused again, through the hazy, muzzy fog. "Not going to hurt you... safe..." And she believed it.

She broke down, not in panic, but in relief. A hand once again held her face, and stroked her hair, but this time she knew it to be a sign of comfort, gentle, soothing. She slowly relaxed, letting the calm and fuzziness envelope her once more.

As she gave in to the darkness, the nameless person spoke again, more urgently. She wished they would give her peace, but the voice- a quite important voice to her, she remembered- was persistent, a pair of hands pulling and prodding at her; before her mind smothered her from the outside world, and everything turned black.

She closed her eyes, and knew no more.

-oOo-

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