Disclaimers: None of the SVU characters of mine.
Author's Note: Well, this is a new story for me. I started it as something else, but then turned into what you see below. I hope you like it.
Strange.
Just so strange.
I don't understand life, the cycle that turns and goes in different directions. I don't understand how it can flourish in glory in one moment, and be snatched away in fury in the next. Maybe, it isn't that I don't understand it. It could be something else. Perhaps, it isn't that I can't understand it.
I just don't want to.
That was the final thing that Elliot read, as he placed the journal down on the nightstand, where he had found it to begin with. It hadn't given up much to help his case; a few entries about a lost love, and a lost friend, all pointing to a very confused, depressed individual. Once more, the journal entries just made him worry. The last entry in the diary was three days ago, coinciding with the timeframe when its owner had gone missing. No one had heard from her in three days, but no one had thought to call in the police until now.
"Anything?" Elliot heard Fin call from the little kitchen nook, which lay relatively close to the bedroom. Elliot turned from the nightstand, and the journal, and proceeded to walk out of the room. He was about to call back to Fin, when he spotted something on the medium coloured dresser by the door. He bent down, pulled out a glove, and dabbed the glove in the substance that was staining the wood. Pulling the glove back, Elliot studied it, and sighed in disgust.
"We've got something, here!" he called, knowing that this was the last thing that he had wanted to find.
"What is it?" Fin asked, as he entered the room, followed by a few CSU detectives. Crouching down beside Elliot, Fin looked at the glove in his hand. Elliot, who had a hand on his mouth, and was still studying the dresser, handed the glove over to Fin. Fin looked at it, and turned back to Elliot. "Blood?" Elliot just nodded his head, hand still covering his mouth. Fin stood, and placed a hand on Elliot's shoulder, indicating that they should let CSU do their jobs. "Let's get out of the way." Elliot continued to stay in his position. "Elliot?"
"Yeah," Elliot acknowledged, and he stood from his spot. "Sorry." Fin nodded, and they both went out of the bedroom, and into the living room, where John was looking around. "John, you guys find anything?" Elliot asked, hopefully. When John shook his head from side to side, Elliot's heart sank even deeper into his body, something that he didn't think was possible anymore.
"Nada. We're still looking for the people in the building, the super, namely." He looked at Elliot, who was chewing on his lower lip in thought. "Elliot, why don't you take a minute, huh?" John suggested, putting a hand on Elliot's shoulder, and pointing toward the hallway. "We've got it in here for a few minutes." Elliot nodded, not giving it a second thought, and stepped toward the door.
"I won't be long," he said, turning to the left, just outside of the apartment. He stopped, and leaned his back against the wall. He let his head hang for a second, and then pulled it up, letting it rest against the wall. Closing his eyes, Elliot drew his head forward again, and smacked it back against the wall, not caring who heard it. He was frustrated, knowing that none of this should have happened. The blood was just another thing that he was kicking himself for; if she was hurt, he would never be able to forgive himself, nor look her in the face. "Olivia, where are you?" Elliot sighed to himself. He had vowed a few hours earlier that he wouldn't rest until he found her, and he meant it. He was prepared to be at work all week if need be, not leaving for anything. That was ridiculous, he knew, because he would have to go home to get clean clothes. Other than that, nothing was going to make him leave without a lead.
"Elliot!" he heard Fin yell. "Elliot! We've got something!"
Elliot opened his eyes, regained his balance from the wall, and began to walk back inside. The whole thing, to him, made little sense at all; Olivia hadn't called in sick, which had been overlooked at work somehow. No one had seen her enter or leave the building for a few days, and, now, there was blood. "Who would want to hurt her?" Elliot had asked himself that same question at least five or six times since he discovered the blood, and he still had no answer.
It was just so strange.
Author's Note: Yeah, it's a bit short, but I tend to do that with opening chapters. The next one will be longer, I promise. Reviews, (kind and/or constructive), are greatly appreciated, and will be graciously accepted. Thanks for reading! Untile the next chapter...