"Get out."

Connie spoke even before Rita had had a chance to open the door fully. She paused, weighing up her options. She could leave then and there and not even set eyes on Connie, but something deep inside of her was telling her to continue, something was telling her that despite the snarl in her cracked voice, it was her that Connie needed.

She pushed the door open fully, and at the sight of the blood all thoughts of turning away disappeared.

Without a word she moved towards her, and slowly, as if she were worried about startling her, she crouched down next to her.

"Connie..."

She whispered, her voice was thin, and it was only when she heard herself speak out loud that she realised that she was struggling not to cry.

Connie sat hunched on the floor, her body crumpled, her head lowered to ease the throbbing darkness that threatened to overcome her. The blood that showed through the white of her pyjamas was so vivid in it's colour that it had startled even herself. She had never paused to think just how red her own blood could be.

"Connie..."

Rita reached out a hand, and Connie raised her head just enough to meet her eyes. And it was then that Rita realised that she was not crying because of how broken Connie was, but because of how beautiful she looked despite the blood, despite the pain...

"I said get out."

It was all she could do to whisper, her throat ached, and deep inside her, her body pulsated with such a nauseating pain that even looking up made her feel faint again.

Rita pursed her lips. There were no words that could make this better. She blinked back the tears and shook her head.

"No."

She mouthed, not making a sound, and a tear escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek where it hovered at her lips before Rita swiped it away with the cuff of the pyjamas that she wore.

Connie watched the tear soak into the silk of her pyjamas, a tiny wet spot that she new she would haunt her forever.

Rita inhaled, trying to steady herself. She looked at Connie. Her face was so pale that the freckles stood out on her face the way they had when she was a child, when she was upset, or she hadn't slept. Had she noticed that Connie had freckles before, Rita wondered?

She cleared her throat, she blinked again to hurry away the tears, and she swallowed against the raw lump that ached at the back of her throat.

"Let me help you?"

She whispered, her legs were beginning to cramp up because of her position on the floor, and she shifted, so that she was standing again, but still she held out her hand to Connie, willing her to take it.

Connie drew in a breath. She knew all of this, she'd been here before, though it was such a long time ago that remembering only seemed as though she were recalling a book she'd once read.

She knew what to do when life as you know it suddenly disappears without warning. She would do what she had done all those years ago. She would go shopping, she would cook dinner, she would work odd hours and make love to men she barely knew...she would shut herself down, piece by piece until that wall about her was rebuilt, stronger than ever.

She closed her eyes. History seemed to be repeating itself... all of a sudden she was no longer really here. It had only been hours since those men had forced themselves upon her, but already she could feel herself fading away. Already she could see the future, she could feel the days weighing her down. The moments when she would think that she saw those men from the corner of her eye, behind the shadows in the trees, or their silhouettes behind a curtain on the ward...Already those men had taken over her, she could feel them inside her, she could recall, with clarity, every thrust and every grunt as they came inside her.

Without a word Connie held out her hand, and allowed Rita to help her to her feet.

"I don't want your help."

She said quickly, before she could change her mind. She saw the flutter of something behind Rita's eyes and she looked away.

"Connie, I..."

"Just stay with me."

Connie cut her off, and Rita's lips paused around the words that were left unspoken. She realised how much it meant for Connie to make such a request. She gave a brief nod of her head.

"Wait here."

Connie murmured, squinting against the glare from the lamp as she retreated slowly into the bathroom where she would remove the stained pyjama bottoms in favour of clean underwear and sanitary towels. She wrapped her dressing gown about herself and re-emerged only moments later to find Rita sitting up in bed, her legs warm beneath the duvet, and the bloody under sheet balled up by the wardrobe.

Connie moved over to the bed, and looked pointedly at Rita, the nurse taking only a moment to realise that she had settled herself into Connie's 'side', and hurriedly she moved over, giving the other woman room to slip beneath the duvet.

She could tell by the way she moved that she was in pain, and the knowledge of this, coupled with the fact that Connie was in pain because she had been protecting her made her feel even worse.

She shuffled down further beneath the covers, the duvet was so thick, and the heat radiating from Connie's body so warm that she had to kick off the lower quarter of the covers away from her feet.

With a pained exhale of air Connie reached over and turned off the light, leaving them in the dark with nothing but the sound of each others breath between them.

She heard Connie sigh, and roll over, and the sound of her hand on the pillow beneath her face.

"Talk to me."

She whispered.

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