Hey guys. Sorry about the crappy summary, but I'll fix it along the way. No regular internet access kinda sucks.

Chapter 1: The Prologue

"I don't know how this could've have happened. I'm so sorry, Mom." Cynthia pleaded. She dug her face back into my chest and continued to cry her eyes out.

"Hush, shh, shh sweetie this is not your fault, okay?" I cooed as I patted her head softly. "Listen Cynthia, nothing you did could've prevented this. If anything, it's my fault. You got your stubborn ass attitude from me and I should've warned you. I'm sorry baby. Okay, Thia?" I looked down at my daughter's head on my slowly pulsating chest. She was out cold. I shook her head as I cautiously picked up my daughter from off of her couch and laughed slightly at how she automatically wrapped her legs around my waist. It reminded me of when she was a just a baby:

"MOMMY, MOMMY, MOMMY! You're here early!"Cynthia shrieked at the top of her lungs.

I smiled as I turned around and saw my own flesh and blood run down the hallway of the colorfully decorated daycare toward me in an excited blur. I wiped the tears from my eyes and knelt down and spread out my arms as far as possible and engulfed my 5-year-old in a hug as she leapt toward me. She latched her arms around my neck and I glanced down at her. She was so pretty. I ran my fingers through her wild, curly hair that went every direction. She had a short, pudgy nose and a wide smile that she obviously got from her father. 'Oh yea, that's why I came here so early.' I thought as I looked at her smile. I didn't want it to go away, but she had to know the truth about her father.

"Mommy, why do you look so sad?" she asked, still in my arms and her lips had formed that little puppy dog pout that she always made me smile; it reminded me of her father.

It didn't make me smile this time.

"Thanks Karrie. I'll see later."

"No problem, Liv. You know you can give me a call if you need anything and I mean that." She patted my shoulder comfortingly. I tried to smile, but I guess it came out as a smirk, so just turned around and gently squeezed Cynthia in my arms as we waked out to the Hummer.

But that was 17 years ago. When I got to Cynthia's room, I put her on her bed and tucked her in under the blankets. I ran my fingers through her hair. It wasn't as curly as it was when she was younger. It was only curly on the ends and straightened everywhere else. I wondered if my grandson would've had curly hair like hers.

"Mommy, where are we going? Where's daddy?" asked a curious Cynthia. I drove us to a restaurant far away from the apartment. Cynthia complained that she was hungry and I wasn't in an arguing mood. I just needed time to think and figure out what I was going to do. My daughter's pleading voice broke me from my trance.

"Mommy, what's wrong?" She looked at me with those big, brown orbs that looked so much like mine.

"Um, baby, how would you like to spend the night with grandma?" Her depressed look soon went away when I mentioned my mom.

"YAY!" she screamed in elation. The waitress came back a few minutes later. I paid for the check and we left. I drove for a few miles, and then I glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw that Cynthia was out like a light. When I got to a red light, I dug through my purse and finally saw my cell phone. I flipped it open and pressed speed dial 5. I raised the phone to my ear and stole a quick glance back at Thia.

'She's going to be heartbroken and Mom's going to be pissed.' The phone rang for an eternity before I heard a small click.

"Hello? Who is it?" I had a huge frog in my throat, but I had to swallow it.

"Um, h-hi Mom." I managed out. The awkward silence over the phone let me know that my mom was just as shocked as I was that I was calling her. "

Listen, Mom. Do…do you think...um... you would mind...um do you think you would mind if Cynthia and me spend a few nights with you?" I eventually blurted out. It was quiet for so long, I decided she was just going to wait for me to hang up. I was about to make a U-turn when she finally spoke up.

"Of course not dear, but you have to tell me what's wrong. Promise me?"

"Yes, ma'am." I made a left and a few miles later I was pulling into my mother's driveway where she was sitting on the porch, waiting for us.

I closed the door behind me and walked out into the living room. I gazed around the living room. There were unwrapped presents everywhere and dirty paper plates and cups on the kitchen counter and coffee table. There was blue and white confetti on the floor and streamers clinging from every corner of the ceiling possible. Finally, hanging over the door there was a giant streamer half-hanging on the ceiling and half-draped over the TV that read: CONGRATS! IT'S A BOY! Right then and there, I finally broke down into tears myself. I collapsed onto the floor and just gave in. I guess I was crying a little louder than I thought, because shy of 3 minutes later, my daughter was by my side trying to comfort me. She held me in her arms and I held her in my mine. We just sat there and grieved for what seemed like forever.

I sat in my mother's arms for what seemed like forever. I just cried my eyes out. I put Cynthia to sleep a while ago so I could just let it all go. I cried my eyes out.

"How did it happen?" she asked with an incognizant sense of concern in her voice. I sat up and struggled to say through sniffles.

"Um, he was the Lieutenant and he was sent to case out the enemy base camp. One of the other captains that survived told me that the sergeant in charge thought it was a bad idea, but Ricky wanted to go anyway. The stubborn bastard." I wiped my nose clear of the tears clouding around the sides of my nose.

"You probably rubbed off on him." my mother said with a slight smirk. I looked over at my Mom and then she embraced me after she saw the hurt in my eyes, but it was probably true. When I first met Richard, he was kind of quiet and distant, and that's why I liked him; he was like me. It's funny though because our daughter is outgoing and loud and outrageous and I always wondered where she got that from. It took me and mom almost an hour to make her fall asleep.

"I'm sorry Ivie B, I really am." she lifted my face in her hands so we were at eye level. "I know I wasn't sorry enough when I was raising you, but I am sorry now." I nodded my head in understanding and rested it back on her shoulder and silently cried myself to sleep. Or at least I tried. I know my mom meant well, but it was hard to fall asleep when her house smelled like booze. I was starting to rethink staying here. Somehow, Mom was thinking the same thing and told me:

"I am trying to change for the better Ivie. I want you to know that I will always love you no matter what I said to you before." I just sighed and drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up, the sun was shining so bright in my face that I'd thought my eyebrows would've burned off. I also woke up to a tear stained shirt and face. I looked around my daughter's apartment and found a note taped on the fridge:

Dear Mom,

I want to thank you for giving me life and raising me to be a respectful woman but a terrible mother. I thought I didn't know how to fix this but now I do. Thanks again mom. Tell everybody else I said thanks too. You know, Don, Elliot, Fin, Munch, Alex, Melinda, etc. They were great in helping raising me too. I will always love you forever, Mom, before and after death.

Love,

Cynthia Benson

I ripped the note of the fridge to make sure I read it right.

'How could she possibly think she was a horrible mother?' While I was trying to process the note, I heard a large crash in the bathroom. I left my Glock at work so I grabbed a knife from the drawer instead. I cautiously but quickly made my way back to guest bathroom and busted down the door. I couldn't drop my jaw low enough to show my surprise.

I saw Cynthia on the floor, her wrists drenched in blood. I dropped down to her side and immediately cringed in pain as the glass from the broken lamp fell on Thia's poor head dug into my knees and lower legs. I ignored it and cradled her head in my arms.

"Thia, baby, c'mon wake up baby." I gently slapped her cheek as I watched her eyes flutter open.

"Thia don't worry baby, you'll be just fine." I was panicking. I dealt with millions of victims before, but I never had to deal with one in my own home. Cynthia started to speak.

"I…I…I…just wanted…just…to be…with Ryan. Please Mommy…" she begged. Her eyes shut closed again. I attached my finger to her neck. No pulse. I rummaged through her pajama pants and found her phone. 'God, she can't even sleep without this damn thing.' I dialed 911 and waited.

"Hello, this is 911 dispatcher. What is your emergency?"

"This is Detective Olivia Benson of Manhattan SVU, Shield Number four oh one five. My daughter slit her wrists and now she's unconscious. I need a bus at 5490 Hanover Rd Apartment 4D, NOW."

"Of course, Detective. I'm sending a bus to your location now."

"Please hurry!" The dispatcher hung up and I tossed the phone aside. 'Please baby, you gotta wake up for me baby. You can be with Ryan later, but Mommy needs you now, okay?' "Oh god, how could've it had come to this?"