[In the Clinic - late Monday night/early Tuesday morning]
His voice echoed in her head.
"I always thought you were a smart girl. Don't make me have to revise that opinion of you now."
He was there. Where he didn’t belong. Where she couldn’t fight him. She couldn’t outsmart him.
She ran, the sound of shattering glass shrieking in her ears. Her elbows stung as she took sanctuary in the closet.
She was in the dark. Small. Safe.
Until his too-cold hand grabbed her -
In her bed at the clinic, Rory moaned and thrashed a leg.
"Or maybe I just want you to scream."
He liked the way she struggled. It didn’t stop him.
“Wanna give it a go?"
Rory’s knee connected with something soft, and a bomb went off against her cheek -
Rory began to whimper in the clinic, and instinctively touched a hand to the left side of her face.
"Now, darling, this is the part where you beg."
She was drowning. Suffocating. Dying.
Rory began to sob and claw at the pillow.
Air. It was back. She was a step closer to -
“This could actually be erotic if you were pretty."
White-hot pain in her neck.
She jerked awake, a scream dying on her lips.
[ooc: Suggest you go read this if you haven't and you actually want to follow the action. And as one might imagine, Rory's nightmare is fairly graphic, though it's told in glimpses and flashes.]