A/N: So here's the second chapter as my Christmas present to you . Thanks for all of your support, your reviews and subscriptions make my day!
Disclaimer: Yep… Don't own it.
Olivia sat at her desk frustrated. It had been almost a week and the only lead they had on the Daniels case had an airtight alibi. There had been no DNA hits in the system and it was starting to look hopeless. She got up put on her coat and decided to look at the crime scene again and see if anything popped out. "I'm going to the crime scene El, you coming?" as if he had heard nothing better in his life, Elliot jumped up and followed her out the door.
Twenty minutes after they arrived, Olivia was still pacing around the living room of apartment 4B. "Come on Liv, there's nothing here."
"We're missing something Elliot, I know it." After a few seconds staring at the mantelpiece she noticed something unusual, "There are no pictures."
"You're right," Elliot walked around the house and came back, "The whole house and not one 'mother daughter' picture."
"Hold on a sec, check the cupboard under the sink," she called as she ran out to the laundry. A moment later Olivia returned with two bottles of whisky as Eliot was pulling bottles of cheap vodka from behind the cleaning products, "I found this behind the washing machine."
"If we went through the whole house, how much do you think we would find?"
"I don't even want to think about it."
"Hey Liv are you okay? I mean, I know this must remind you of your mother."
Olivia stiffened, her eyes darkened slightly, burying her pain a little more, "It does, I just hope to God that my hunch as wrong. Maybe… maybe she was a happy drunk?" Olivia asked hopefully as she started to lose control.
Elliot pulled her into a tight embrace until she calmed down, knowing it was exactly what she needed.
As much as she needed Elliot she still felt awkward accepting help and so she pulled away, "I, um, I have to go pick up Melanie from the hospital, she's being discharged today."
Elliot nodded and they headed to the car.
Olivia dropped Elliot off at the precinct and drove to the hospital. She couldn't stop thinking about the alcohol and hoping that Melanie hadn't suffered the way that she had. From the small amount of time she had spent with Melanie, she could see a lot of herself in her. Like her ability to hide pain and emotion, her almost professional demeanour when it comes to past experience. Olivia just hoped that the girl would be strong enough to find a good path in life and not follow the one of so many rape victims to paranoia and alcohol. Olivia made a mental note to make sure Melanie saw a therapist, and a good one.
"So when you are discharged you are to take these twice a day to prevent infection and absolutely no strenuous physical activity, understand?" Doctor Phillips asked, handing over the pill bottle. At Melanie's agreement he added, "It means you'll get out of gym class," with a wink, which caused Melanie to smile.
Olivia, who had been leaning against the door post, chimed in, "Sounds good to me, though, I always liked gym."
Melanie's face lit up at the sight of Olivia and grinned as she joked, "Come to break me out of jail?"
"Is there a reason you should be there?" Olivia retorted with a grin.
"Detective, if you would just follow me I need you to sign some paperwork releasing Melanie into your custody until she reaches the precinct. Your captain has already signed the papers regarding the precinct."
"No worries," As she walked out the door Olivia threw a pair of grey NYPD sweats at Melanie, "I'll come back and get you in a sec, just get changed and grab your stuff. I vote we go get something to eat, you must be pretty sick of hospital food by now."
"That sounds amazing!" Melanie exclaimed, "Don't be too long, I'm starved."
The two girls sat at the closest table to the window in the little Italian restaurant across the street from the precinct. At 2pm on a Friday the place almost looked deserted. Melanie devoured her bowl of Fettuccine Cabonara while Olivia mulled over her ravioli. "So you're 16, you'd be in your Sophmore year?"
"I'm actually a Senior" Melanie replied, seeing the surprise on Olivia's face, elaborated, "When I was younger Mom always pushed me to be better. In her eyes I had to get 100%. With all the studying I had progressed so much that they had to move me up a grade and then again a couple of years later."
"Did you have any social life at all?" Olivia asked.
Melanie sighed, "No not really, once I started studying, reading more and more, I realised that school was really the only thing I had going for me. But that's not too bad; I mean you do get used to it."
Olivia's heart almost burst, she knew exactly what she meant: the loneliness, the isolation. Even if he hadn't been forced to study, she probably wouldn't have gotten along with the other kids very well anyway. "Why didn't you mention the alcohol?" Olivia almost whispered.
Fear flickered across Melanie's still bruised features, "I don't know what you are referring to." There it was that professionalism.
"The alcohol under the kitchen sink, hidden in the laundry and those are the only two places I looked. You know what I'm talking about." For a split second Olivia thought that she had gone too far.
"It didn't matter," Melanie muttered looking ashamed.
"Melanie, look at me. I know you don't want to talk about it, because if you don't talk about it you can pretend that it's not real. The abuse was real Melanie. Your x-rays show previously cracked bones,"
"Oh? How would you know? How do you know that she did anything at all? For all you know I fell. Either way it's over, no one did anything for me then, why start now? I'm past it, I'm fine. I've always been fine, there was nothi-"
She was starting to ramble hysterically, so Olivia ran around the table and delicately held both of her arms as she cut her off, "Melanie stop. Stop denying what happened because the sooner you accept it, the sooner you can work to recover from it," Olivia searched the young girl's eyes for any sign that she was getting through to her as she traced a scar on her hand, "This scar is it from a bottle?"
Melanie sobbed, everything around her seemed to crash down, "Y-yes."
"I thought so," Olivia replied as she steadied herself with a deep breath. She turned her hand so that Melanie the side of her hand. Running down the side of her thumb and index finger was an almost identical scar. "My mother was an alcoholic for as long as I could remember. I never talked about it either, never let anyone know. When I was 13 it got so bad that my grades started slipping. I got an F on an English paper and the school notified my mother, who was a university English lecturer. When I got home later that day she was sitting at the table, half way through a bottle of vodka. She called me in to the room and shoved the letter into my face screaming that I was a failure, a good-for-nothing nobody. That's when she lost her balance and dropped her bottle, it smashed everywhere. I guess that she blamed me for that too, because she came at me brandishing the jagged neck of the bottle. I got the scar pushing her away, not enough to hurt her, but just enough so that I had time to run out the door."
Melanie stood up, tears usually so well hidden were threatening to spill over the brim of her eyes, "Thank you for lunch," she said tensely as she walked away heading towards the precinct.
Olivia's shoulders slumped in defeat. As she stood up to follow Melanie she cursed herself under her breath: she had pushed her too far, too soon and in the wrong place. All she wanted to do was get through to the girl, to help her, like Olivia wished someone could have helped her at her age. It didn't look like Melanie would accept help anytime soon.
A/N: There we have it folks. As always, I love to hear your opinion and constructive criticism is always welcome .
