Olivia's POV
"Alright," I say into the phone. "We'll be there in five." I slam the phone down and Elliot turns to me.
"What is it?"
"A distress call from a neighbor from fourth street and Rose." I grab my coat. "She hears screams coming from inside the house next to hers; she wants us to check it out."
"Isn't that a job for the police department, not special victims?" he asks, shrugging on his coat.
"The person screaming is a teenage girl," I tell him. "Living alone with her older brother, according to the caller. Sounds like a special victim to me."
At the House
We pull up into the driveway of the caller and Elliot and I knock on the door. Not five seconds later, a woman with an apron and a large burgundy bun on her head opens the door.
"You must be the detectives," she says softly, almost a hushed whisper.
"Detective Stabler," Elliot says, showing her his badge. "This is my partner, Detective Benson. We received a distress call from this address. What's the problem?"
She ushered us in quickly and shut the door. "It's my neighbor, Arriane."
"Is she hurt?" I ask.
"No, but . . . ," she trailed of and led us to the kitchen. "I heard her screaming not long ago. It only stopped five minutes before you showed up. I think she's in trouble, but I'm too afraid to go over there. He warned me to keep my distance."
"Who warned you?" I ask her as she sits.
"Her older brother, Andrew." She shivered. "He's very cruel to his sister. I'm afraid something might have happened."
"What does he do to her?" Elliot asks.
She sighs. "Sometimes he hits her. Whenever I see her she's always covered in bruises. . ."
"And you never thought to report this?" he snapped.
She looked flabbergasted and stammered out a soft response. "He threatened me, told me if I ever said anything . . ." She looked up at us worriedly. "Please, just go check on that child. Go!"
We nod and walk out the house and cross over to the next one. There's a doorbell and I press it once. Twice. When nobody opens up after the third time Elliot kicks in the door. After two good kicks, the door crashes down and we walk in. the lights are all on and the house is silent.
"Hello!" Elliot calls and I position myself so that I'm holding my gun, but I don't take it out of the holder just yet.
Then we hear a crash from upstairs. I grab my gun and hold it out in front of me as I follow Elliot up the stairs. We pause, listening, but there's no other sound. Just a faint dripping, like water from a leaky tap.
"This way," I tell Elliot in a whisper, gesturing for him to follow me as I approach the only closed the door that must be a bathroom. I realize as I stop outside the door that it wasn't a dripping, it's more like a running tap.
I knock on the door softly and listen for any movement. Nothing.
"Liv, look," Elliot whispers.
I follow his eyes and look down at my feet. The floor is drenched in water and it's still running rapidly out at our shoes from behind the door.
"Arriane!" I call into the door. "Arriane, it's the police. Open up. Are you in there?" No response.
The door isn't locked though, so I gently push it open. The bath is running and overflowing, spilling water onto the floor and out the door. But the room is empty. I go to the sink. Besides the bath, nothing else seems out of order.
I sigh. "They must have fled or something. Turn off the water there, El, we'll just report them not found."
I hear his footsteps as he walks to the bath, but I don't hear the water being turned off. I turn around and Elliot is standing over the bath, looking shocked.
"Liv, look at this," he mutters.
I walk up to him and look into the bath tub. It's a girl. The water is tinted red by the blood flowing from a cut on her left wrist. Her cheek is red and bruising covers her lower abdomen. Her skinny, naked body is lifeless in the water, no bubbles emitting from her nose or mouth.
Elliot quickly snaps out of it, grabbing her head from under the water and feeling her pulse.
"She's alive but not breathing," he tells me.
"We need a bus!" I call into my intercom.
Elliot puts his head to her heart, but doesn't seem pleased with what he hears. Just by looking at her ghost-white frame, I can tell we could be too late.