Disclaimer: Let's see . . . I don't own Elliot. I don't own Olivia. I don't own Joe Stabler. I don't own Serena Benson. However, I do own Jennifer.
So began our tenuous friendship. At first it was out of convenience, just because we both happened to be in the same general vicinity, but soon we became close. I never told Elliot what happened at home, but sometimes I thought he already knew. We got to know each other so well that we could have entire conversations with our eyes. We could almost read each others' thoughts.
In the beginning, I would call Jennifer every few weeks, whenever I just needed to be close to someone who cared about me. She would obediently pick me up and bring me to the station and let me play with the Barbies. Sometimes Elliot would be there and we would do puzzles together. Then Jennifer retired and my safe haven was gone, but I'd made a new friend and learned a valuable lesson. He was two years older than me, but we had so much in common once we got over our initial, obvious differences. We'd go to the park, to the convenience store to get some candy, for bike rides. We tried smoking together, and beer, and pot. We simultaneously rejected all of the above. We studied for our SATs together and spent a summer as CITs. As we got older we grew closer. We could talk about anything – anything except my mother, and he knew better than to ask. He helped me patch up my black eyes and soothed my tears away. He always told me that I should tell an adult about my mother. "You could tell a teacher, Liv. Or a police officer. You could tell my dad. He'd help you."
I always shook my head and said firmly, "No way in hell. Nothing's wrong, El. My mother loves me."
I believed that up until I was sixteen and my mother got closer to killing me than she'd ever come before. She was hitting me with her belt and the pain got to be so unbearable that I just snapped. Blood was gushing from my back by the bucketful, so much that it soaked my shirt straight through and I almost passed out. I could hardly breathe and was struggling to hold in my tears – she could never see me again. I stood up and whirled around to face her. I saw the surprise on her face when I grabbed the belt from her and said in a soft, dangerous voice, "You are never going to hit me again." Then I walked right out the front door and didn't look back.
I hesitated as I passed Elliot's house, considering whether or not I should tell him I was leaving. But I decided against it. He would try to talk me out of it and I couldn't have that.
I walked for hours until I couldn't walk anymore. Then I slumped down on a bench, put my head in my hands, and cried for the life I could have had and the childhood I never did.
I know this chapter was really short, but I thought this was the right place to end it. Would you like to know what happens in twenty years? Would you? REVIEW!
