Reid and the awkward girl | S.R.

11

⚠️ warning. Assault.

Danny slams the door to her creaking, moldy apartment and slumps her way through the halls to the parking garage. Her bag on her back feels extra heavy, and so do the bags under her eyes.

Sleep wasn't very forthcoming last night, and Danny feels it in all her limbs. She curses the sleep god of Greece and keeps walking. Class isn't going to pause for her.

Head too tired to look up, she notices her left shoes lace untied. A minor set back, and she would ignore it, if her mind hadn't already come up with 200 scenarios on how it could go wrong.

Danny sighs and bends over, a nice reminder for her to stretch when she gets up. Her muscles are far too tight. Too much studying over a small desk.

Unfortunately, her lethargic body and dulled senses don't pick up the second pair of shoes to her right. A force slams into her side. Something that feels like a battering ram, but actually just a slimy sneaker when she looks up. Her keys fall from her hand: her only weapon.

Danny fumbles for the metal keys while also trying to get up, her adrenaline kicking in. But the assailant stomps on her back again. Winding her, and leaving her coughing for breath.

The man leans over and adjusts his weight to hold her down. A weak hand tries to slap him away, but it isn't enough.

Danny wonders if this is going to be her last day on earth. All she can think about is her sad life, and how she never got a chance to put away guys like him. Maybe if she would have an FBI issued gun on her.

She kicks into his foul smelling squishy body, shifting his weight slightly. He pushes back just as hard and slams the girls face into the floor. Her eye feeling the blunt of it.

Danny doesn't give up. Refusing to give in to this sexual assault or potential murder. Both a likely motive, she doesn't want to stick around to find out. She trained too hard for this. Her elbow snaps back into his nose. A shower of blood mists over her body, but she can't pause to be disgusted. The second he is distracted, Dan flips over to crawl out, delivering a strong kick to his neck. She grabs her keys in one hand, and runs.

Hoping she won't get killed because of her still untied shoe. But at least she recognized him. The man who delivered her Chinese.

•••

Harold, thankfully, got Danny to class. The rust bucket only going the speed limit, so Danny was a few minutes late. She debates on waiting in the car until class is over. But the thought of staying by herself out in the open seemed foolish. A class full of students would be a much better option. Even if she didn't feel like walking. Besides, students come in late every day.

Getting out of her car, Danny doesn't notice the stares until she is almost to the entrance. Only five or so people out of the crowd, but Danny has always been perceptive. And she notices. Did they know she just attacked? She doesn't know and it's all too much. She reaches the door, and thankfully only a handful of students actually looked up from their cellphones to notice. If you see this story anywhere other than Wattpad report it immediately.

Now she just has to sneak into class.

A few more stares from the hallway and Danny grabs the door handle to class. A deep breath later and she's in. The door practically silent, except for the closing slam.

That's when everyone looks up. Danny flushes in embarrassment from where she is standing, and for some reason, the sight of Spencer is her undoing.

The terrified girls eyes well up, a single tear rolls over. She feels more violated than ever standing here in front of a class full spectators. Watching her life fall to pieces. The idea of being in class seemed inviting, it at least makes her feel better. But why do they all have to stare?

"Dan?" Steps run forward to her at the top of the lecture hall. A tall man in glasses and a purple shirt, button down. "Oh my god, are you okay?"

And that's when Danny finally takes in for the first time what she is wearing. Not her clothes, but the blood. The blood from her almost raping. Her attacker. Its all over. The spray, the drops. No wonder they were all looking. The stares from the outside and the hallway. It looked like she came from a murder scene.

Danny stares in horror at her shirt, turns around and walks out. She can only feel the steady hand holding her up, the smell of his clothes as he walks her through the door. She reminds her self not to clam up. To be a strong professional FBI agent that she will be one day. Her tears dry up. But the wobble in her step remains.