Pain was an old friend ---- the kind that came in the night, slipped into bed and whispered stories of the grim future in store. It took a certain amount of self preservation skills to drive herself to feel nothing of it, to ignore it all the way down to the belly of the beast. When it escaped, however, it did so in the form of smell drowned out cries from beneath a pillow, hands risking everything they had in order to prevent what felt as though it were the inevitable. She was wrong --- she recalled crying that out once... maybe twice, but as she found herself tossed against the nearby wall, everything else seemed to cloud her vision as she slid down to the floor at the sound of the door flinging open, a familiar face barely a silhouette in her haze. @jackson--hart