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Helplessly Hoping
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Author's Note: I'm still exploring the SVU fandom. I'm slowly putting together another story that's very case-centric, but felt the desire to do some character exploring. This is just a short introduction chapter, it's vague for a reason. All feedback is appreciated, as I'm still not completely sure where I'm taking this.
Disclaimer: The show belongs to Dick Wolf and the NBC network. I nagged the title from the CSNY song.
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Olivia staggered into her apartment, led only by the lights of the city that flooded through the small hallway windows. She didn't know what time it was, she didn't know where she had just been, she barely knew how she was able to find her apartment building and unlock her own door.
As she stumbled across the small entrance, she wasn't even able to flip on the lights. She headed straight towards her kitchen. She grabbed the first bottle she could from her small collection, aggressively indifferent to what it was. She held it tightly in her fist as she gradually collapsed, her back running along the fridge knocking off magnets and papers, until she was safely on the cool tile floor.
She unscrewed the top, tagging a long, hard, desperate swig. Whatever it was burnt her raw throat and trickled down her lips to her shirt. She gagged and took another gulp.
As the liquor hit her stomach she felt an immediate sense of relief. Her hazy almost psychotic senses began to clear. Her eyes came into focus, and she was able to make out shapes in her dark apartment. With a few labored breaths, she stopped shaking violently. She was able to recognize the bottle as the handle of Patrón Silver that she'd received as part of a birthday present the year before.
A birthday present, from him.
The very thought made her stomach churn and forced her to take another swig.
She'd never done this, never lost control, yet it felt so commonplace. She put the bottle on the ground and softly ran her clammy hands over her face. She felt the tender lump on her forehead and pulled away in pain as she touched her throbbing nose. She could still feel the tepid blood mixed with her own tears beginning to dry and cake to her face, to the front of her shirt. Sighing weakly, she knew why. She'd seen her mother do the same thing night after night as a kid. Stumble into the apartment, grabbing a bottle and collapsing on the ground. Her tears turned once more into gasping sobs.
But it wasn't her mother that was making her cry this time. It wasn't her mother that was forcing her to drown herself again.
It was him.
She couldn't stop seeing him, in his violent rage. She took another swig, she didn't want to see him, hear him, taste him. His sharp cursing rang in her ears. "You stupid bitch," he spat at her. She quivered in his wake, up against the wall. "You stupid fucking bitch." He threw a fist at her. It knocked her onto the ground. She wasn't able speak, barely able to take raspy dry breaths. He hit her again, and again. She could feel the blood pour down her face along with tears she couldn't control. She clenched her eyes shut, giving no resistance. One of New York's Finest and she wasn't even able to stand or push back.
It was so vivid, she shuddered taking another shot. After all his rage expired, there had been an eerie quiet, only filled with Olivia's soft cries. He had stepped back, shocked at his wrath. "I-I'm sorry Liv. Oh my god, are you okay?" He tried to pull her to her feet and kiss her cheek. She still felt the dried saliva on her cheek, burning shamefully. She had just shaken her head and ran, despite his fading pleas.
With a final gulp of liquor she finally felt the images fading away into a murky blackness. She closed her eyes, dropping the bottle to the ground, fading into a restless unconsciousness.
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