Rachel

I've been running all my life. Away from the horrid memories of the sacrifices my mother made to protect me, and to protect my name from this evil world we live in...
But everything's changed...
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I've recently found out my mother was murdered by a psychopath; choosing the wrong pill in a game of chance that would give away her secret. That gave away my name.
That cost her her life...
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I heard a man named Sherlock Holmes had solved my mother's case along with others who had fallen of the same fate. I must find him so I can warn him: for he does not know what he has gotten himself into...

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17. Finding Hope In Shattered Glass

I wake up to the tiny sensation of even tinier insects crawling up and down my arm. I try to lift my arms to rub my eyes, but I can't seem move them for some reason. I look down with my slightly blurry vision to see a brown rope tied around my waist and the tree, my arms trapped inside. I sigh and place my head against the tree I was tied to, and I automatically groan in pain from the bump on my head from the hammer.

"RACHEL?!" I hear someone call in the distance.

"RACHEL?" Another voice that I barely recognize.

 "RACHEL!" A third voice calls, even more familiar than the last. "IT'S ME, PJ!"

My heart flutters as I quickly come to my senses.

"PJ..." I croak with my very dry throat. I hear footsteps hustle towards my direction, and I am relieved to see John, Sherlock, and of course, PJ.

"Oh my god..." I hear John and PJ say as they all race to me in shock and concern. John and Sherlock immediately start untying me as PJ takes my hand and attempts to comfort me.

"It's going to be okay, Rachel." He says as he strokes my hand soothingly. I laugh. PJ looks at me, confused. "What's so funny?" I laugh again.

"Nothing. It's just...everything is always okay when you're with me." We both chuckle a bit because we both know that line was super cheesy and cliched. As soon as the rope falls around my ankles, I jump into PJ's embrace. Tears start streaming down my face, and I feel my shoulder become wet. I squeeze him even tighter.

"I promise I won't let this happen to you ever again."

"Like hell you will." I chuckle sarcastically. We finally release, and I go to hug Sherlock and John. When I hug John, he holds me tighter than anyone has ever held me before, including PJ. I can clearly tell he's glad that I'm okay. Then, Sherlock wraps his arms around me a little less stiffly than the last time (which was ages ago), and I feel my shoulder get wet again.

"Rachel..." He stammers out. "I am so sorry I let that happen to you."

"No, no Sherlock. It's my fault." I confess. "I was the one who wanted to go for a walk. I was the one who stopped in the alleyway. I'm the one who got you beat up." We release, and tears are streaming down both our faces. I take his leather-gloved hand and look straight into his cold blue eyes. "I'm just glad that you're still alive."

"Broken rib, twisted arm and ankle, almost punctured lung, but, none the less, alive." We laugh, and I don't let go of Sherlock's hand until we get back to Baker Street.

 

I go back into my flat to freshen up a bit, and it isn't until I go to my room and look at my vanity when I see the true damage my father and that woman had done.

My cheeks and forehead were covered with scars. I had one big scar running on the right side of my neck. I roll up my shirt sleeves and my pant legs to reveal that my hands, arms, and legs were bruised pretty badly. I dared to lift up my shirt, only to find even more scars and bruises than my arms and head combined. I cover my mouth in shock, now realizing they may have tortured me even more after I was knocked unconscious. I lift my entire shirt off, and turns out my shoulders were badly cut, and my back was almost entirely black and blue. I collapse to the floor and start crying, feeling almost as if I was...invaded.

Knock knock knock

I hear someone knock on my door, and I quickly put on some black skinny jeans and a bright aqua sweater to cover up my scars from my shoulders down: everyone was already worried enough about me, no need to cause anymore grief...

"Come in."

PJ pokes his head through the door, and we both smile. He shuts the door behind him and wraps his arms around my waist. I try not to cringe at the pain flooding into my sides. We kiss, and I almost forget about the scars and the pain.

He was just glad I was alive.

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