1𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼 𝙎𝙐𝙋𝙀𝙍𝙃𝙀𝙍𝙊ʳᵉⁱᵈ

1 | statistics at a time like this

statistics at a time like this

o n e

He shouldn't have been there. His knuckles were bloody and bruised, his lips chapped, his hair dark, his eyes darker, and the skin under his eyes were turning all different shades of violet, due to his lack of sleep. He wouldn't normally be in this situation, being a certified genius and a FBI agent, you shouldn't find him out in the wee hours of the morning, his knuckles bruised as he walked home.

She shouldn't have been there. Her hands were trembling and numb, her shoulders shook more as she stood there, practically bare for anyone to see. Her body was covered in bruises and dirt, her hair a matted mess of tangles, her lips were bit until blood dripped from them, coating her teeth. She wouldn't normally be out at this time, her shift started in less than five hours, she should have been home, not slammed into a damp, dark alley wall with a man who she didn't know, assaulting her in ways she never even thought of.

She was never prepared for this, never even thought of how it could affect her. She didn't think she'd be the victim, always assumed she could fend off an attacker, and yet, here she was, shaking and sobbing behind a dumpster, covered in filth.

"Carry pepper spray, learn some kind of martial arts, try to defend yourself, and whatever happens...never blame yourself"

His old worn out converse kicked a pebble along the sidewalk, the soft clunk was almost comforting. His ears were trained to listen for the faintest of whispers, being in the FBI and all, and so when he walked past the dark alley, it wasn't a surprise that he could hear the soft cries of a woman.

"Rapists normally want power, they'll say certain things, some even stalk their victims for months, possibly even years before actually attacking, thus causing them to fantasize being in a relationship with the victim. They want to ruin the victim's life, steal every little shred of pride, confidence, just so they can be in control. They have full power over the victim's life. Everytime the victim closes their eyes, they see their rapist, and most of the time these victims are too scared to come forward and report it..."

He had answered many questions about rape and rapists, and victims of rape. He's dealt with rape victims before, but he's never actually found someone right after the rape. He made his way down the alley, finding the battered woman, her clothes ripped and torn, barely covering anything.

His breath caught in his throat. What was he supposed to say? To do? Was there a certain set of precautions for him to take? Like dealing with a fragile deer? Was he supposed to confront her, help her? Or just calmly call the police and let them handle it? He didn't work in rape, what was he to do? He knew the answers to all of these questions, and that's why he walked up to her.

"Are you okay?" He asked and kneeled down to her level. She looked at him, her green eyes puffy from the sobbing. She didn't say anything. He nodded, confirming his suspicions. He stood and pulled out his phone, dialing 911.

After the phone call, he sat next to the girl.

"Only 7% of rape victims reveal that they were raped," He said and looked at the shaking girl. "You're gonna be okay"

"You save yourself or you remain unsaved"
- Alice Sebold