This is more CSI fic, from Sara's POV. I don't own the characters, I just play with them sometimes ...
Thanks so much to my betas diachrony and desdemonaspace!!
The taste of blood is mutable. Some describe it as salty, like the sea; others liken it to sucking on a new penny, coppery and cold.
To me, it’s simply life.
Blood at the corners of my mouth where lips were crushed against teeth, weeping from the corners of my swollen eye, bubbling up with every breath - it still seeps. I survived.
I swear I’ll escape. The second his hulking back is turned, stink of alcohol oozing from every pore. It didn’t work the last time (creaking ribs grate as I remember), but he can’t keep me forever.
His hot, rancid breath nuzzles my bruised neck. I turn away and bite my lip, breaking healing scabs.
Blood tells me I’m alive. He hasn’t won yet.
Tonight, I try again.
Please comment if you feel motivated!!