She has just finished talking to Brian, when her phone rings. She is sitting in the living room, and her phone sits on the kitchen counter. She quickly glances at the number, and then answers.

"Benson," she replies.

"Hey, it's me."

"What's going on?"

"Look I don't know what to do. Can you come over?"

"What's going on?"

"It's my daughter. I don't know what has gotten into her. She has been skipping ball practice. She won't talk to me, and now she's locked herself in her room."

"Just let her cool down," Olivia suggests.

"I don't think that is going to work. She flipped her lid."

"Why?"

"It would be better if we had this discussion in person."

"She's your daughter."

"Olivia..." he tries to reason with her.

"Fine, I'll be there soon," she promises.

She enters his house. He is sitting in the living room, on the couch. He looks at her, in relief. He rises to greet her.

"I am glad that you're here."

"What's going on?"

"I asked her why she was cutting practice."

"What did she say?"

"She gave me some excuse about being sick."

"And?"

"One thing escalated to another. I accused her of..." he shakes his head, "It doesn't matter. Would you just talk to her, please?"

"Ok," Olivia agrees.

She walks down the hallway, to the only closed door. She knocks on the door.

"DAD! Go away! I told you that I don't want to talk," the angry voice on the other side screams at her.

"It's me," Olivia reveals.

"He called you? I can't believe him."

Olivia twists the knob, and enters the room. She closes the door behind her. The girl with long, thick, auburn locks. The teenager lies on the bed in a pair of athletic shorts, and her softball t-shirt.

"What's going on?" Olivia queries.

"You can't just barge in here. You don't live here."

"Brie tell me what happened."

She shakes her head, "I am not a little girl anymore. Olivia I don't want you here."

"Brielle just tell me what's going on. Why are you skipping practice?"

"Olivia it is not any of your business."

"Why did you lock yourself in here?"

"He didn't tell you what he asked me?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"I told him that I wasn't feeling good, and he kept badgering me."

"And?"

"Then he had the cahones to ask me if I'm pregnant."

Olivia swallows hard, "Oh."

Brielle notices the look on her face. She shakes her head, in disbelief, "Don't," she warns.

"Are you?"

"You are unbelievable. You know that?"

August 12th 1999-

She stares at the little girl on the couch. The little girl is wearing a dress, and her hair is pulled into a pair of pigtails. Her arms rest on the back of the couch. Her head rests on her fists. She stares at Olivia with a pair of dark eyes. Olivia turns, and leaves the house. The door closes. The little girl can't hold back her tears anymore. She screams after her.

"Come back! Mommy!" she wails.

He approaches the couch. He scoops her up, into his arms. He holds her close, trying the reassure her. She squirms, and tries to kick, and hit him.

"No!" she shouts, "Make her come back," the tears trail down her face.

He patiently wipes the tears from her eyes, and plants a kiss on her cheek.

"Calm down. Brielle I love you. I am never going anywhere."

Her lip quivers, "But I want her."

"Since when? You're daddy's little girl."

"Make her come back," she begs.

"I can't."

"I want my mommy!"

His heart breaks for his little girl. Eventually she falls asleep, in his arms.

"Why did he ask?"

Brielle shakes her head, "You don't get to ask that."

"Brie, be reasonable."

"Be reasonable? What the hell are you even doing here?"

"Watch your language."

"Don't come in here acting like my savior."

"I'm not."

"You have absolutely no right to be here."

"Brie..." she tries to negotiate.

"Don't come in her acting like you're my mother."

"Brie please just talk to me."

"No!"

"Please," Olivia begs.

"You're not my mother. You don't know me. You walked out fourteen years ago. You don't get to pretend to be interested in my life now."

"Brie I'm sorry."

"Don't call me that. I hate it! My name is Brielle."

"Brielle I am sorry."

"You're always sorry, and nothing ever changes."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to leave. Now!"

"You have to talk to someone."

She shakes her head, "It sure as hell doesn't have to be you."