Holy crap, what am I doing to myself. This season has got me going crazy with stories. Let's hope I can keep up with them all. This is short, just a little intro to something bigger. I hope you guys find it interesting. I'm trying to take a more serious, independent story approach to my fanfictions.

Thanks to the lovely DestinyLynn17 for looking over this and discussing it all with me. It's great to have someone to share this stuff with otherwise I might explode.

Happy Thanksgiving!

NOTE: I hear this part is a little confusing. It's supposed to be. It's a flashforward. Perhaps that makes more sense.

I do not own Sons of Anarchy. That belongs to Kurt Sutter. (That being said, a certain incident in the Call of Duty episode never happened in my mind. I choose my reality! :P)

~~~~Prologue~~~~

I never thought it would end this way.

All she had seen for the past few hours was the inside of the black bag that covered her head. When it was finally ripped off, even the dimmest of light made her squint. There were four of them in the back of the van with her, all wearing interchangeable sour looks on their faces. They were all equally huge and intimidating. One pushed the back doors open, revealing the unlit road passing beneath them at a terrifying rate.

That was when someone grabbed her arms and threw her forward.

It's not the pain that bothers me. It's not that I've committed the ultimate betrayal and in turn had that inflicted upon me. It's not even that my death will be on his hands. In fact, I have to admit there's something poetic about it in a sick and twisted way.

For one moment, she was weightless. She flew through the cold night air, numbing her body in a matter of moments. Her hair flew about her face, dancing before her eyes, obscuring her view of the full moon above. She felt nothing, remembered nothing. All she had was the sensation of flight and though it lasted only for moments, she found herself able to marvel at it.

Then she hit the ground, her body recalling its sense of touch as her skin scraped across the asphalt. She bounced of its surface several times, a sickening crunch following each. She rolled for what seemed like forever, unable to tell which direction was up and completely incapable of stopping herself. Her body had let go of all control. She was a ragdoll at the mercy of the elements.

What bothers me is that I could have stopped this. I could have said no but I didn't. Now here I am about to pay for it with my life.

Finally she stopped, her body lying limp across the center of the road. She faced away from the van and could distantly hear it driving off. Her head rested on her right arm, her left somewhere behind her. She could feel blood trailing down her face and her skin burned wherever she had made contact with the road. All over, her body cried out in pain but she ignored it. None of that mattered.

It was what she saw before her that had caught her attention.

And here at the end, all I can think about is him. The man who made me the way I am today. The one who started it all, or more accurately ruined it all. I should hate him but I don't.

A single beam of light landed on her, coming from the motorcycle that was right on the tail of the van. She stared at it, past it and found herself almost able to look into the eyes of the driver, though she knew it was impossible. They were headed straight for her, their reckless speed making it nearly impossible to veer from their course.

She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer, waiting for the end to come.

I love him.

~~~~Heartbeat~~~~