WARNING: This fic contains content that is sensitive and not appropriate for everyone. It deals with the extraordinarily personal topic of violence against women. If you want to read it, I encourage you to continue but I know this is a hard topic for many people and I am not approaching this lightly.

I debated long an hard about posting this fic...ask my twitter buddies-there was practically a symposium on this and it almost did not get written. But ultimately I decided that it needed to be told. The night of the gala, when Leah told Arizona she found her passed out in the hallway really struck a chord with me.

As upset as we all are that Leah is the one to have found her, it could have been a lot worse.

1 in 4 girls (25%) are sexually abused by the age of 18.

1 in 6 boys (17%) are sexually abused by the age of 18.

And notice that that is just the stats for minors, so I know that may people are affected by this particular topic. So please, I implore you not to read if this isn't something that you can handle. I'm not doing this for shock and awe, but rather to tell a story that too frequently gets glossed over and needs to be told.

Disclaimer: I do not own Grey's Anatomy. This is not for profit.

So without further ado... Here is "Dead. Or Something Worse." Cannon until 10x04

ARIZONA'S POV:

As I slowly started to reenter the land of the living the throbbing in my head made me very very painfully aware that I was alive. 'What the hell happened last night?' My fuzzy brain tried to work out what exactly had gone down at the gala and how I had ended up in bed. 'Oh right…three bottles of champagne in a supply closet…with April Kepner.' That at least explained the pounding pain behind my eyes. But after that…everything was a blur…I don't even remember getting home.

Mentally preparing myself, I opened my eyes before hissing and squeezing them shut as the bright light from my window assaulted me. With a groan I turned my face back into my pillow, vowing to never drink again when a strange burning pain ripped through my stomach. It wasn't the warm pleasant burn of alcohol…no no. It was something else. Something sharp…cutting.

My hand traveled down to my stomach, hoping that pressure could alleviate the fictitious knife that was ripping its way through me. I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my jaw as I pressed down, my fingers splayed against my warm…wet skin… 'What?' I moved my fingers around for another second in confusion before realizing that with each stroke across my stomach, the burning got worse and my hand only got more wet.

I wasn't really coherent enough to try to work through what was going on and instead settled for pulling my hand back out from under the covers, staring at it in confusion as it dripped red. The strong metallic smell permeated the air and a sense of horror started to edge away the fog that consumed my brain. I stared at my red hand for one second more before throwing back the covers. Pain ripped through me once more as I propped myself up on my elbows but nothing could numb me to what I saw.

My stomach, painted red with my blood was covered in thin lines, no doubt the source of the cutting pain and more blood stained the sheets between my legs…It was only then that I became aware of the pain that also ripped through my core as a panic set in.

Blindly reaching for my prosthetic limb as I stared down at the crime scene that was my body. I was further startled when my fingers brushed the wood of the nightstand and not the cool plastic of my replacement leg. My chest felt like it was in a vice and my breathing quickened as the pieces started to fall into place and my eyes darted around my bedroom in a panic. Every second felt like an eternity but finally I spotted the flesh colored prosthetic resting against the full sized mirror across the room, surrounded by a spider web of cracks and shattered glass from the bottom of the mirror.

My shoulders started to shake as my eyes involuntarily tracked up the mirror until I saw my own pitiful form sitting in the bed. The first thing I noticed was how the blood that should have been bright red, stained my blue paisley sheets an ugly brown color…I never did like these sheets…

Continuing their ascent up my reflection I sucked in a sharp breath when my eyes landed on my neck and shoulders…My usually pale skin…the skin that had been exposed by my dress at last night's gala was now marred purple and red. I felt the sob bubble up and escape out of me before I could stop it. My hand clamped over my mouth and I tasted the blood that stained it from my stomach as my shoulders shook violently.

Somewhere in the back of my dazed mind, my one remaining piece of rationality was telling me that I needed to call someone. That I couldn't just sit here all day wearing nothing but my own blood. Not when…I was too scared to even think it…

Spying my discarded handbag in the corner of the room, I slowly lowered myself out the bed and onto floor, tugging the bloodied sheet after me. I sat there for a moment as I wrapped the sheet around my shaking frame. The purse was only five feet away but the distance seemed like a mile because one thing they don't tell you when you lose your leg above the knee is that crawling is out of the question.

Turning around, I pushed off with my heel, painfully dragging myself across the floor as my whole body protested the movement until I could collapse in the corner, clutching my handbag to my chest. After a few shaky breaths and a forceful swallow to choke back the bile that was threatening its way up my esophagus I finally undid the little magnetic clip and pulled out my phone with trembling hands.

As I scrolled through the numbers I was suddenly struck by the fact that I didn't know who to call…I hadn't been the most popular person at the hospital since the news of my…infidelity had been not so subtly spread by Callie…and I deserved that. I truly did. But where does it leave me now. The only person who talks to me is Alex and…I shook my head. No. Not a man. Not now. I let out another sob, letting my head drop to my knee as my phone rested lightly in my hand. Never had I felt so alone and so utterly ruined than I did in this moment.

Violent sobs wracked my battered, bruised, and bleeding body as I searched my addled brain, wondering if there was anyone who could help me before I remembered the unusual friendship that I had forged last night. With shaky fingers, I scrolled through my phone, not caring at all that I was smudging it with blood as I searched for a name. I drew the sheets tighter around me as I tapped the icon, watching as my phone finally displayed the message:

Calling…
April Kepner

That was hard for me to write and I'm sure it was hard for many of you to read. I want to raise awareness about sexual violence against not just women, but everyone. If something happens, please speak out. There are always people to help.

Thanks for eelahnie for giving me the kick in the pants needed to write this.

More coming. Please review.