So it went on, and on, and on. All morning it seemed like they were sat there, but in fact it was only 11:30. 2 hours, 2 hours of pure hell. 2 hours of question after question. Incessant, constant probing questions. Questions Amanda never liked being asked, questions Amanda never wanted answered.

"So Amanda, in the last month, again on that scale of 1-5, how much have you been bothered by repeated disturbing memories, thoughts or images of the stressful experience."

Tears were running down Amanda's face, her eyes screwed tightly shut.

"Five."

"Do you need a break Amanda, honey? It's ok if you do honey," the nurse said, rubbing her shoulder. Amanda shrugged her off.

"I… I get to see Fin, and Nick and everyone if I do this right. I just want to do that. Please… you will let me see them won't you. I can't do this without them."

"What can't you do Amanda?" The psychiatrist asked. Amanda didn't like him much, he just kept asking questions. Too quiet, too nice. Amanda was concerned, was IAB employing him, or worse, Patton? She just needed to get out.

"Amanda? What can't you do?"

"Answer you're questions, alright. Answer your goddam questions. I just wanna see my friends, you don't get that do you. I can't survive without them, they're so goddam brave, and powerful."

"And you feel safe with them?"

"WHY IS IT ALWAYS ABOUT SAFETY?" Amanda yelled. Her hand went to the now empty coffee mug on the table to throw it, but the nurse had moved it away. Amanda went to slap her, but the nurse lady managed to grab her hand.

"Breathe honey," she said. "Breathe."

Sobs wracked Amanda's body again, and she curled in on herself, on her side, hiding her face under the hospital blanket.

The psychiatrist moved over to Amanda, kneeling down and pulling the blanket a small way down from her face..

"Amanda, we'll leave it there for today, ok? It's a lot to talk about, its rough, ok, I get that"

"How can you get it? You don't know whats happened to me? How can you understand?"

"I can't begin to understand what you've been through Amanda, but I'm certainly able to help you make sense of all the feelings in your body. I guess they're pretty tough to live with right?"

Amanda nodded almost imperceptibly.

"I… I wanna be better… but… I don't know how to trust anyone anymore."

"It'll be a process Amanda, but hopefully we will all prove to you that you can trust people, and what you're feeling, they're normal feelings. Anyway Amanda, I'll leave you to relax a bit."

"Can… can she stay?" Amanda said, nodding at the nurse.

"Of course I can honey." The nurse pulled her chair closer to Amanda as the psychiatrist left.

"Can… can you sing that song again. The song about the river?" Amanda asked, still curled on her side, hugging her knees.

The nurses' melodious gospel voice filled the air lulling Amanda out of her anxiety driven state of upset.

"It's been too hard living, but I'm afraid to die, cause I don't know what's up there, beyond the sky,

Its been a long time coming lord, but I know… change is going to come, oh yes it will."

Soon Amanda had stopped crying and was just curled up under the blanket.

"You sing beautifully," she said quietly, her voice cracking.

"Oh honey, change is going to come for you I can feel it. You're going to have a beautiful house, with a beautiful garden, and that nice man of yours Nicholas… change is going to come for you sweetheart."

"Nice things don't happen to girls like me Ma'am." Amanda said quietly. "They just don't, I gave up."

"That's when the things you least expect will happen sweetheart,"

"I hope so Ma'am,"

"Rosemary, honey, my name is Rosemary."

"Sorry," Amanda apologised, becoming more and more bleary. "Can I… can I sleep now? It was so tiring, them questions and that upset... Can I sleep?"

"Of course honey."

"Can I see Nick and Fin and that when I wake up? Please. They're like my blood family, only better, cos they ain't ever done no harm to me. It scares me how much they care, why they care, but they do."

"I'll ask honey," the nurse said, stroking her hair away from her face. "You go to sleep now sweetheart."

"Can you stay?" Amanda asked. "I'm scared if bad men come while I'm sleeping…" Amanda was becoming more and more nonsensical, regressing almost. "Bad men come, touch me on my inside parts."

"Ain't no one going to hurt you here honey, but I'll stay just in case."

The nurse continued to brush Amanda's hair out of her face and stroke her forehead, watching the young lady fall asleep.

Outside, the Saddler, the psychiatrist had been scoring Amanda's inventory, trying to make heads and tails of the screening tools which had been completed so far. Unsurprisingly, the PCL-5, the only screening test he had managed to complete with Amanda, showed severe symptoms of PTSD, and so far the other screening tests were showing traits of borderline personality disorder, anxiety disorder and depression, but as many of the tests were uncompleted due to Amanda's anxiety with professionals, and talking in general. He ran his hand through his hair. This was tough. He didn't actually think he'd get anywhere until Amanda disclosed to anyone, and he was certainly no closer to ensuring her safety in the community than they had been 48 hours ago.

He thought back to their conversation.

"In the last six months Amanda, have you ever had thoughts that you would be better off dead, or hurting yourself in some way?"

Amanda nodded, again the shame rolling off her in waves.

"How often would you have those thoughts?"

"All the time." Amanda whispered.

"Would you say, 'more than half the days', or 'nearly every day' for example."

"Every day." Amanda responded.

"Have you made plans to end your life Amanda?"

"Obviously." Amanda responded.

"What did you plan to do?"

Amanda laughed.

"What's funny Amanda?" Saddler asked, confused.

"There's this British playwright, she's dead now. But she wrote these amazing plays about mental health hospitals in the UK. I never realised how truthful it was until now. The doctor asks how she plans to kill herself, and she responds 'take an overdose, slash my wrists and hang myself', the doctor asks why, and she says 'because it couldn't possibly be misconstrued as a cry for help.'" Amanda laughed to herself.

"Is that what you plan to do Amanda?"

"Why not, seems like it would be a pretty permanent end to things, doesn't it. No going back from that, is there?"

In fact, Saddler had not been more concerned or more worried about a patient in his life. It's why he'd let the Nurse stay with her. At least Watkins could keep constant observations on Amanda, make sure she didn't try and ligature or harm herself in any way.

There were layers and layers to this young lady, layers that should have been peeled back years ago in some crisis unit somewhere, some children's home somewhere, somewhere safe. She should have got therapy a very long time ago, but obviously this was the first time she had been safe for that to happen.

And now he had the case of his life to stop this woman from killing herself.

And he needed support. He put in a call to the Captain of the 1-6, Donald Cragen, who had left his contact details.

"Hi, is that Captain Cragen? Its James Saddler, the Psychiatrist at Belle Vue. I need your help, or someone from your departments help. Someone Amanda trusts, but not Nick or Fin? The boyfriend and the work-partner… that's too close. Can you send someone over? I'm not sure when Amanda is going to wake up."

"You're babbling Sadler," Cragen responded. "I'll send Olivia up in an hour or so, that ok?"

"Is that the same lady that was here yesterday?" The psychiatrist asked.

"Yes, she's just on her lunch now, she'll be back at 1ish, I'll send her straight over, so she'll be there for half 1?"

"That's perfect."

"Do I need to brief her with any information?"

"No, I'll do it upon her arrival."

"Got it." Cragen responded and hung up.

Saddler breathed a sigh of relief. Reinforcements were on their way. Maybe there was hope. Everyone in Amanda's life was fighting for her. Now, they just had to convince her to fight for herself.