Potentially triggering: description of a car accident / mention of self-harm / invasive behaviour.

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The black limousine came out of nowhere. And it was quiet, too, so Maria didn't hear it approaching. She only noticed the car when it hit her, sending her sailing over her handlebars in a high arc and hitting the road hard. The headphones flew out of her ears so that she could hear the rumble and clatter as her bike skidded across the asphalt. For a moment she remained lying as she was. The impact had squeezed all the air out of her lungs.

She didn't know if minutes or just seconds had passed, but when her breath eventually returned, so did the pain.

"Oh, fuck!" she muttered softly to herself, then tried to sit up but couldn't. She was lying on her side, and from here she couldn't even see her bike. Only a large section of grey asphalt, the beginning of a tree in the far distance at the side of said road and ... suddenly black cloth trainers with white soles entering her field of vision. She couldn't see who they belonged to, but this person stopped for a brief moment, above her, without saying a word, then the footsteps moved away. If Maria hadn't still been in such excruciating pain, she would have cursed again right then and there! She really didn't care much for other people - if you had no expectations, you couldn't be disappointed - but was a brief enquiry about her well-being too much to ask? Apparently so.

Once again she tried to sit up and still it was hard, too hard actually, but then she suddenly had help as two hands grabbed her upper arms and supported her. So she managed to half turn over and was now sitting on her backside on the warm concrete.

"Fuck," she muttered again. "I -" Before she could continue speaking, a face appeared in front of her, and she realized at the same moment that the fingers had disappeared from her arms. The face was framed by auburn hair adorned by a black hat, and it belonged to a boy who had crouched in front of her. Piercing green eyes twinkled at her.

"Now, now, little bitch, what are you doing? Did you have an aeroplane for breakfast?" Somehow he sounded amused.

Maria just groaned in response. She still felt woozy, so what this guy had just called her didn't even register with her. Was her forehead bleeding? She could have sworn there was something hot running over her skin! Maria brushed her dark hair out of her face.

"Ow!" she muttered and there flitted, just for a millisecond, something like an enthusiastic expression across his face.

"Mhmm."

Was she imagining things, or had he just sighed - and not only that, but sighed with something like delight?

Maria tried to stand up but couldn't.

"Easy, easy." He chuckled again. She squinted her eyes, trying to clear her gaze a little. She managed that at least, though not completely, the edges were somehow still a little blurry, but it was enough to allow her to avert her gaze from the hat-wearer and focus instead on her scraped knees.

"Oh, fuck," she muttered again. Carefully, she tried to tap off some of the dirt outside the wound and as she did, her eyes fell on her hands and wrists. Also covered in blood. Damn, she must have been really banged up! How had the driver not seen her, or seen her so late, on a straight country road with hardly any traffic, that he had rammed her like that? How was it possible that he had not been able to brake? And how fast had he been going?

Her white tight cycling shorts now looked as if they had a poppy print, so many blood speckles were scattered on them. And her oversized T-shirt was torn at the bottom.

The sight of her arms called up an image in her mind's eye, because she was somehow already used to something like that, or at least something similar. True, she hadn't cut herself in a long time, not for almost six months, but the images were still so easy to remember. Some of the skills her social worker had gone through with her helped. For example, Maria always had a thin hairband wrapped around her wrist that she could snap against her skin when needed to relieve tension - today it was light blue, but even that light blue band was now dark with blood. So were her knees. Before she could make any further decision or take any action, though, the strange guy lowered his head as if to bow to her and for a second she just thought he was plain weird, but then she suddenly felt his lips on her knee. Maria froze. What? What ... ? With his mouth he absorbed the blood until all that was left of her knee was the open wound, which now that you could really see it under all the blood was quite deep after all and might need stitches. Finally, her muscles were working again, and she pushed him off before pulling a handkerchief out of her trousers and pressing down on her knee. He fell backwards but caught and braced himself with his hands. Then he threw his head back and laughed out loud.

"Really, little bitch, you are so rude!" In contrast to that phrase, which sounded like a complaint, his tone was more suited to someone who had discovered something really exciting. "But do that again - you know, it really didn't bother me at all." And then, as if it hadn't been freakish enough so far, the guy, who by now was unfortunately crouching in front of Maria again, grabbed her hands, skilfully avoiding the open wounds.

"Pushy much? Let go of me!" Maria tried to pull her hands away from him, but his grip tightened, almost stone solid, and she couldn't manage it. He did not reply, and he did not comply with her request. Instead, he brought her hands to his mouth and licked the blood off here too. All the while, he looked into her eyes until she finally closed them to avoid him, because avoiding him in any other way seemed impossible.

"Mhmm," he made with relish. "You taste goooood, little bitch!"