Author's Note:
(1) This is a Rolivia story. That means that two women will be together, eventually, in a romantic way. If that bothers you, I'd have to suggest another fiction. Perhaps a nice E/O story?
(2) Amanda's underage when she first meets Olivia. No, there will be nothing sexually illegal going on in this fiction. Amanda will be of age before anything remotely happens.
(3) This is a slow burn story. So if you're looking for something that will be rushed, this isn't it.
(4) TW: Teenage pregnancy, homelessness, depression, brief mentions of sexual assault, and young/older relationship will all be parts of the story.
(5) Enjoy! Dark, but will get lighter.
(6) Oh, and no Olivia in the first chapter. I promise, you'll see her soon.
Summary: Amanda Rollins is a pregnant teenager with no place to go, but New York. Olivia Benson's a SVU detective who only wants to help the mysterious woman.
Down To The Water
Chapter 1:
Amanda's POV:
A single tear slipped down Amanda Rollins cheek as she stared down at the little white pregnancy test. It was positive. It was positive. The thought kept running through her mind on a never ending loop. How was she going to explain this to momma?
"Shit," Amanda cursed, throwing the stick in the trash, and sliding down the bathroom wall. "What am I going to do now?"
She knew who the father was. She'd been dating the same boy for over two years, and things had always been decent between them. Nate had to be the father of the baby growing inside of her, he was the only candidate. Amanda reluctantly pulled her cell phone from her pocket, and dialed Nate's number.
The phone rang once, twice, three times before Nate's voice came through the speaker.
"Yeah, babe," Nate grumbled.
"Uh- Nate. We need to talk, it's real important," Amanda sighed into the receiver; holding the phone to her ear with one hand, and her head up with the other.
"Okay, where?" Nate asked, he sounded hopeful. "Your bedroom?"
"No, Nate," Amanda spoke, another tear slipping from her eyelash. "Come over to my house. I'll meet you on the porch."
"Sure, sure," Nate answered.
Before Amanda could respond, he'd already disconnected the call.
Jesus, Amanda thought. What had she done?
She hadn't even liked Nate. It was a small town in Georgia, and they'd been the last ones single. Amanda had never expected anything to come of their relationship, especially not this. She couldn't be pregnant, but the proof was mocking her from the trashcan.
She was just starting her senior of high school, 17 years old, and had a dead end job working at a diner on its last leg. She couldn't be pregnant. She shouldn't be pregnant. But, here she was. Her and that damn pregnancy test. She could still see the little pink plus buried beneath all the trash.
Amanda had been expecting the knock, but she still jumped when it finally came. She got up from the bathroom floor to go answer the door. Her mother wasn't home, instead out at the local bar; so she could talk to Nate in private.
"Nate," she smiled sadly as she swung the door open, and invited him inside. "How're you?"
"Okay. You hear about the test in Trig tomorrow?" Nate asked, plopping himself down on one of the living room couches.
"No," Amanda mumbled as she sat down next to him on the gaudy yellow couch that was placed in the middle of her living room.
"I hear it's a hard one," Nate said, leaning back, and sticking his feet onto Amanda's lap. She silently pushed his feet off her, and looked at him.
"Nate, I'm pregnant," she blurted, interrupting his theories about their torturous Trigonometry test.
"Pregnant?" Nate grimaced. His tone sounded almost accusatory. Like, this incident was all her fault.
"I took a test today," Amanda admitted. "It was positive."
"Fuck. How could you let this happen, Manda?" Nate growled, standing quickly and pacing around the small living room.
"How could I let this happen?" Amanda repeated sarcastically. "Well, I don't know, maybe it was when you talked me into sleeping' with ya', Nate!"
"I never had to talk you into anything, Mands. You always asked me for it," Nate grinned, his stained teeth showing. "And this, is your problem. I think we should break up."
Amanda sat motionless on the couch, her fingers digging in to the dingy cushions beneath her. "What?" she gritted, her head shaking back and forth in disbelief.
"I'm sure that baby's not even mine, babe," Nate laughed, pointing to her still flat stomach.
That was the last straw. Amanda Rollin's jumped from the couch, and moved to the front door. She yanked the door open for Nate, and pointed outside.
"Get out," she spoke, a rage filling her body. She was almost shaking. Amanda could feel the tears coming, but she wouldn't cry in front of him. Not ever.
Nate's large body was out the front door, and soon he was stumbling down the front steps like his ass was on fire.
"Good riddance," Amanda yelled out to him, and then she slammed the door closed with everything she had. The whole house shook from the pressure.
She hoped her mother didn't take the news like that.
Her mother had finally stumbled in around 4 AM. Amanda had slowly climbed from the small bed that she'd slept in since she could remember, and hurried out to meet her mother in the living room. It wasn't that she was in a huge rush to say those two life changing words; I'm pregnant, but she had to. The sooner it was over with, the better.
"Momma?" Amanda called out into the hall, cringing when she heard a large crash coming from the kitchen.
Stepping out of her bedroom she cautiously moved down the hall, with her back against the wall. Amanda took a deep breath, and then peered around the corner. Amanda's mother was leaning heavily against the refrigerator. Her eyes were bloodshot, her skin pale, and she stunk of whiskey.
"What's it now?" her mother mumbled, still trusting their fridge to hold her weight up.
"I need to talk to you. How bout I make you a cup of tea?" Amanda offered, already moving for the cabinets.
"Don't want no damn tea. Just spit it out."
Amanda's breath escaped her in little puffs, and she wondered if she should even utter the words. The truth slipped out before she could reign it back in.
"Momma, I'm pregnant."
The last thing she saw was her mother push off the refrigerator, and grab a glass plate. Amanda's mom stumbled a little, and then threw the plate. Amanda felt a sharp pain in her temple, and registered her body sinking to the floor. Then the world was dark, and everything was calm in the Rollins household.
When Amanda woke up, it was already morning. The plate that her mother had used as a weapon now lay in shattered, a million pieces on the floor beside her. Getting up from the hard floor, Amanda gently prodded her forehead with two fingers. She couldn't feel any major cuts, but there'd be a huge bruise.
When she shuffled to the living room, her hands still on her head, a voice stopped her.
"Here," her mothers low voice spoke.
Amanda turned. Her mom was sitting on that awful yellow couch, a bus ticket in her outstretched hand.
"I bought you one to New York. You were always going on and on about that city," her mother sighed regretfully.
"What?" Amanda's voice cracked, and she rubbed her temples even harder. "Momma, please. I have nowhere to go."
"I need you out of here. Get your things, and never come back. I can't have a baby staying."
Her mothers voice was hard, and cold. Amanda would rather die from starvation than to beg the woman who'd birthed her for help. So she quickly moved out of the living room, and down to the small room that she'd always been able to call hers. She threw a few pairs of clothes into a large duffel bag she'd once bought for a camping trip, then she threw in another pair of shoes, and her hygiene products. She grabbed her I.D and birth certificate, and stuffed them in too.
She ran her fingers along the edge of the mattress, looking for the hole she'd carved out when she'd been thirteen. She found it, and yanked her secret stash of money from inside her mattress. She'd saved some cash, not much, but enough to feed her for a while.
Grabbing a pair of jeans, Amanda slipped into them, and smoothed her blonde hair out with her fingers as she exited her former bedroom.
She didn't speak as she grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen, and moved to the front door without a sound. As she opened the door, and moved to exit, she looked back at her mother. The woman was already opening another beer.
"You'll rot for this," Amanda hissed, hot tears pouring from her eyes. The door slammed shut behind her.
She yanked her Atlanta Braves cap over her head to hide the forming bruise as she walked down the steps, and out into the road. Her eyes moved back to the falling apart house she'd once called home, before she hoisted her duffel higher up her back, and kept walking.
She had a bus to catch.