As Amanda slowly rises to consciousness early Monday morning, it is with the odd realization that she is blissfully content, that she is warm and safe, the sunshine just beginning to spill into the bedroom through a crack in the blinds, tiny beams of golden light dancing across the walls. She has slept through the night for the first time in weeks, for once not haunted by terrible dreams, no shadowy figure lurking in the dark corners of her brain, the nightmares banished completely from her mind, and a content smile stretches across her face.
She is buried deep beneath the covers in her bed, arms wrapped snugly around Olivia, who is tucked up with her back against Amanda's chest, and she is happy to be able to do what she should have done for the other woman a long time ago, what Olivia had so desperately needed after going through her own version of hell with Lewis, and that is to hold her. She presses her face into the older woman's hair and closes her eyes again, drifting lazily between sleep and wakefulness, in no hurry to get up and start the day, just wishing to remain here in her comfortable little paradise, her worries not at the forefront of her mind for once, but then she catches herself frowning, as something is not quite right.
It occurs to her that this carefree, cozy little domestic scene is all wrong, that it is too good to be true, that she is not allowed to be happy, is never going to be safe with the mystery man still running loose and in the wind; that he is out there in the world somewhere and could be anywhere at all, perhaps closer than she thinks.
As if on cue, like someone has flipped a switch, the hair on the back of her neck is suddenly standing on end, her skin prickling uncomfortably, as she instantly becomes aware of the fact that she and Olivia are no longer the only two people in her bedroom, that there is another presence here now. There is no sound, no movement at all, the air perfectly still, but Amanda instinctively knows that someone is lingering there in the shadows, just out of sight, lurking in the corner, observing them in slumber as he watches and waits. She hears the faint sound of rain in her ears now, the drops pattering lightly against the window, the room becoming much darker, and she is puzzled, as it had just been sunny a moment ago, her bedroom bright with the promise of a beautiful day. She can smell the faintest whiff of cigarette smoke, the acrid scent wafting beneath her nostrils, a slight haze in the air, and she holds her breath, squeezing her eyes shut, wondering how everything has changed so quickly, how it has all gone so wrong so fast; the peaceful, content feeling of the morning replaced by sheer terror.
She knows she should get up and fight, defend herself and Olivia, put her police training to good use, or at the very least, wake the other woman up so they can make a run for it, but it is no use. She finds herself glued to the bed, unable to make a move or alert Olivia to the situation, but maybe it is better this way; maybe if she pretends she doesn't know he is there, he will lose interest and leave them alone. Maybe if she is just quiet and calm, he will exit her bedroom, her apartment, her life.
It is a strange sensation, laying there, body frozen stiff and unmoving but heart racing wildly out of control, while she waits for an impending attack, waits and does absolutely nothing to prevent what is about to happen. She can hear the footsteps now, soft and creeping, belying how large and heavy the man actually is, and she can feel the sweat beading on her brow, her breathing picking up speed, her fingers curling imperceptibly into the material of Olivia's pajamas, but any movement beyond that seems impossible. Every single one of her senses is on high alert, on fire, heightened to a supreme degree.
Her muscles are coiled and tense, as if ready to spring, waiting to escape, and her breath catches in her throat as the footsteps stop abruptly behind her, feet coming to a standstill on the floor, and everything is silent and still again. Her eyes remain firmly closed as she mentally wills him to go away, to just leave them alone, leave them in peace, but then she feels the bed dip down behind her, as if a knee has been placed upon the mattress, and she bites down hard on her bottom lip, jolted by the sudden pain, the metallic taste of blood blooming on her tongue, and she knows she needs to do something, anything; just make a move, take action somehow.
It seems to take an insurmountable effort for Amanda to part her lips and find her voice, but finally she does. "Olivia, wake up," she whispers urgently.
"'Olivia wake up'," a rough, male voice behind her mimics, and her eyes fly open in alarm, frantic gaze fixed on the back of Olivia's pajama shirt, arms tightening around her waist, and she is aware of her fingernails digging into the older woman's stomach again; that she is hurting her, inflicting new wounds on top of the old, but she can't seem to stop, is molded to the bed, a moan of terror working its way out of her mouth, throat slowly closing and cutting off her airway.
"Olivia, please," she whimpers, gasping out the words before her throat closes completely.
"'Olivia, please'," the voice behind her repeats, rough tone rising to a high falsetto, as if in teasing of Amanda's petrified squeak.
It feels like everything has stopped now, like the world is standing still, and she waits with baited breath to see what he is going to do, what his next move is going to be, and even her heart seems to have ceased its rapid beating, everything sliding to a complete halt. Her brow wrinkles slightly as there is no movement whatsoever in the bed now, and she wants to believe that he has left, that he has decided to end this sick game and leave them alone, but she knows better, and cocks her head slightly to the side, the air charged with electricity, crackling with tension.
The voice is suddenly right next to her ear, and she almost jumps out of her skin. "Olivia's not gonna help you, bitch. And I'm not gonna help you either." His dark chuckle seems to echo throughout her brain, reverberating inside her skull. "But I am gonna help myself."
At the first touch of his hand, the muscles of her throat finally unclench and she lets loose a long, shrill scream, the sounds of torment and terror exploding from her lips, and Olivia jolts awake in her suffocating embrace. Amanda can feel the older woman's fingers scrabbling at the hands that are still clutched tightly around her stomach, vaguely hears her alarmed voice asking what is wrong, knows she is trying to turn around in her arms, but she can't stop, can't let go; unable to loosen her hold on her boss or close her mouth so that the horrified wails are silent.
"Liv, help me!" she gasps out. "He's behind me! He's behind me!"
There is an immediate response from the other woman, but the words are lost amid Amanda's harsh breathing and whimpering, and her desperate pleas for her boss to make the man stop hurting her. She can feel the large, sloppy hands on her body, working their way into places that are hidden beneath her pajamas, and she moans in pain, her eyes squeezed shut, continuing to clutch the other woman tightly against her, only wanting to feel Olivia's soft, gentle touch, and not this brutal stranger's.
"Liv, make him stop!" she cries. "It hurts!"
The older woman's hands are clenched onto her own violently trembling ones, and she is finally able to hear Olivia's voice over the sounds of her own terror. "Amanda, no one else is here, sweetheart. Wake up, honey." There is a slight pause and then her boss' voice is firmer, when can't seem to get ahold herself. "Amanda, wake up now."
"I am awake!" Amanda shrieks in confusion. "Make him stop, Olivia! Please!"
"Amanda, you're dreaming! There is no one behind you. Let me turn around, sweetheart. You need to let go of me for a minute." Olivia is speaking to her like there is not a strange man kneeling behind her on the bed, doing painful, degrading, humiliating things to her body, and Amanda feels angry and betrayed, not understanding why the other woman won't help her.
"Liv, please," she begs, the words dragged out on a sob. "Make him go away. Just make him leave."
"Honey, I can't even move right now. You're ridiculously strong for such a tiny person, you know that?" Amanda realizes that she is effectively pinning the taller woman to the bed, that her legs, as well as her arms, are wrapped around her now. She recognizes the forced lightheartedness of her boss' tone, the one she uses to try to diffuse the situation, to calm her down, to assure her that everything is okay, and finally realizes that Olivia wouldn't be speaking to her like this if someone is actually behind her in the bed, holding her down and hurting her.
"Sweetheart, you need to let me turn around," Olivia repeats softly, and Amanda can feel the older woman's hands trying to gently pry her fingers away from the death grip she has on her stomach.
"Is-is he gone now?" Amanda mumbles, unsure of what is going on, what is real and what isn't. Her lack of clarity with the situation is frightening her, and she blinks hard, trying to force herself to fully awaken, trusting now that Olivia is telling her the truth, that she has been dreaming, and her hold on the other woman finally loosens somewhat.
"He was never here, honey," Olivia soothes, struggling to turn around in her embrace, the blankets coiled up around both of them now, trapping them in the bed, and finally her boss rips them away in frustration, reaching out to grab Amanda under the arms and pull her up off the pillows.
They are now sitting up in the bed together, amid the tangled covers, Olivia directly in front of her, the older woman's hands firmly grasping each side of her face, thumbs gently stroking over her cheekbones. Their gazes are locked intently on one another, and Amanda can see the worry shining in the other woman's eyes, a tear clinging to one of her dark lashes, and she has the sudden urge to reach out and wipe it away for her, but her hands are shaking so hard, she doesn't think she can even lift them.
"Are you here with me now?" Olivia asks, the slight tremble in her tone betraying the calmness of her voice.
"Y-yeah," Amanda chokes out. "I'm here."
"Good," Olivia whispers, and they continue to stare at each other as Amanda tries to catch her breath, and she can feel the other woman's heart beating through the pads of the thumbs that are continuing to caress her face, fluttering rapidly with tension.
"I didn't try to fight back, Liv," Amanda murmurs. "I didn't protect you, I just waited for him to hurt us. Why didn't I do anything? Why couldn't I move?"
"Sweetheart, you don't need to protect me," Olivia says softly, her hands gliding down to squeeze her shoulders, fingers digging in slightly to massage the tense muscles. "You were dreaming. I'm fine."
"But I wasn't dreaming," Amanda protests, suddenly doubtful again about what has been going on, the scene that has just occurred in her bedroom so vivid that she can't seem to let go of it. "I was awake, Liv, I swear."
"You weren't, honey," Olivia insists quietly. "You were sound asleep. I've been awake for the last couple of hours, listening to you snoring in my ear."
"What?" Amanda still feels like she is unable to grasp what is going on, and she scrubs her hands roughly over her face. "No, you were asleep."
"Sweetheart, listen to what I'm telling you," the older woman says patiently. "I've barely slept all night. I've been wide awake for a couple of hours now. No one has come in here. You have been sleeping peacefully, up until a few minutes ago."
"But..." Amanda is frowning at her now, thoroughly confused. "But it felt so real."
"I know it did," Olivia replies gently, rubbing her hands up and down her arms now. "That's why I'm glad you have the appointment with Dr. Lindstrom this morning. You need to tell him all of this, honey; you need to be honest about everything that has been happening. This is just getting worse, Amanda. It is a horrible thing to watch, to listen to, and I know how hard it must be to actually go through it."
Her chest tightens when she sees Olivia's face crumple slightly, and hears her next words. "You're breaking my heart, Amanda."
"Sorry, Liv," she whispers, feeling tears well up in her eyes, and she is suddenly being pulled into the older woman's arms, her boss holding her firmly against her chest, and she winds her own arms around Olivia's back, clutching tightly onto her pajama shirt.
"You don't need to apologize," Olivia says softly into her ear. "It's not your fault. I'm so sorry you're going through this, honey."
"It feels so real," Amanda murmurs, her thoughts still whirling, her body still buzzing with that fight-or-flight instinct, and she is aware of the pain she is in, aching in places she shouldn't. "It hurts, Liv."
"What hurts?" Olivia whispers.
"Where-where his fingers were," she stutters out, a wave of nausea suddenly hitting her full force. She feels the older woman's grip tighten around her, and a tear splash down onto the bare skin of her neck. Her heart aches at making Olivia so upset, but then the nausea slams into her again, and the intense need to be sick suddenly takes over anything else that she is feeling. "Liv, I need to-" She pulls away abruptly and claps a shaking hand over her mouth.
"Just hold on, honey." Olivia leans over the bed, yanking Amanda's little trash can off the floor by the nightstand, and thrusting it beneath her chin just in time for her to vomit profusely into the metal container.
Once she has started, she can't seem to stop, and she throws up over and over again, on her hands and knees on the bed now, Olivia kneeling behind her, gathering her sweaty hair away from her neck and then softly rubbing her back. Finally she sits back, wiping her fingers across her mouth with a trembling hand, and Olivia's arms close around her, holding her between her legs, keeping her very still and not using the gentle rocking motion that Amanda is getting used to feeling when the older woman is trying to comfort her.
"Oh, honey, you are soaking wet," Olivia says quietly, and she can feel the other woman's hand smoothing the damp strands of hair back from her moist forehead. Her cheeks are flushed and she can feel beads of sweat sliding down her temples. "I think you've soaked right through your pajamas."
"It was a really bad dream," Amanda whispers, bowing her head, and she can feel Olivia's arms wrapping more firmly around her around her now, despite how gross and unkempt she feels, and the older woman is leaning a cheek against the top of her sweaty head.
"I know it was," Olivia replies softly. "Amanda, the things you were screaming, and the physical pain that you're in..." She trails off for a moment and Amanda can hear her taking a deep breath. "Honey, I cannot stress enough how honest you need to be with Dr. Lindstrom this morning. This is vitally important. He needs to know how best to help you."
"I know it's important," Amanda mumbles. "I'll tell him everything, Liv, I promise. I can't stand living like this anymore. I feel like I'm being tortured. He won't leave me alone."
"He will soon, sweetheart, I know he will," Olivia assures her gently. "This won't last forever, I promise you it won't. It will get better."
"I hope you're right, Liv."
They sit there curled up together on the disheveled blankets, and Amanda feels in desperate need of a shower, needs to peel off the wet pajamas that are clinging to her skin, but she can't make herself move out of Olivia's embrace and off the bed. She is too ashamed to voice it out loud, that she is still scared, that she doesn't want to be alone, even for the duration of a shower, and that a part of her is still convinced that the faceless, nameless man will return again. She feels like she isn't safe in any room of her apartment now; that he always seems to find her, no matter where she is or what she is doing.
"Sweetheart, we need to start getting ready to leave, if you're feeling up to it," Olivia says softly, her hand rubbing up and down Amanda's arm, underneath the sleeve of her shirt. "Do you feel well enough to get up?"
"No," she murmurs.
"Do you need to be sick again?" the other woman asks in concern.
Amanda shakes her head, the shame and embarrassment gripping her hard now, and she doesn't want to admit that she still needs the older woman, even for the more intimate parts of getting ready for the day ahead.
As if Olivia is reading her thoughts, her boss leans down to look at her, Amanda's head resting against her shoulder. "You don't want to be alone right now, do you?"
Amanda wordlessly shakes her head, and there is immense relief winding its way through the shame and embarrassment when Olivia assures her that she won't leave her by herself, that she'll sit in the bathroom with her while she takes a shower, if that's what she needs right now. She tells Amanda to start the shower while she washes out the trash can, and that she'll come into the room once she's in the tub, to give her some privacy.
As she struggles out of bed and walks to the door of the bedroom on shaky legs, she can't help noticing that there is no rain pattering against the windows, that the room is bright with sunshine, and that there is no evidence of cigarette smoke in the air; the only scent that she can smell is the strawberry candle sitting atop her dresser. The aches and pains have rapidly dissipated from her body now, and she shakes her head at herself, wishing she could get a proper grip on reality, wishing these dreams were not so vivid and life-like.
xxx
When Amanda is in the bathtub, she stands there with her face pressed against the tiles, the hot water beating down upon her, and realizes that this is quickly becoming her favorite shower position. She is not afraid of anyone sneaking up on her this time, of creeping through the door and sliding the curtain open, stepping into the tub behind her and forcing her to do things against her will. Olivia is keeping her safe, sitting on the floor with her legs stretched out in front of her and her ankles crossed, leaning back against the cabinets, glasses perched on her nose, doing the same crossword puzzle she had been working on in Amanda's bed the other day.
Amanda is fully aware of the absurdity of the situation, her boss working on a puzzle on the floor while she lathers herself up with peach-scented body wash in the tub, and she honestly doesn't know whether to burst into laughter or tears at the current state of her life. A small giggle escapes her lips before she can stop it, and wonders if it is going to turn into full blown hysteria, feeling like she on the verge of losing her mind.
"You okay in there, honey?" Olivia asks, a hint of confusion in her tone.
"Yeah, just thinking."
"About what?"
"Just how every time I think I've hit rock bottom, I manage to slide just a little bit more. Maybe there is no rock bottom," Amanda muses. "Maybe I'll just keep sliding forever." She chuckles humorlessly. "Such a cheerful thought to get the week started."
"Sweetheart-" Olivia starts to say, before Amanda cuts her off.
"How's the crossword coming along?" she asks conversationally, as she works some shampoo into her hair, realizing that the morning has been depressing and frightening enough without adding her dark personal thoughts into the mix.
"It's coming along well," Olivia answers, a little hesitantly. "It's almost done."
"Well, I guess there's a plus side to me having multiple breakdowns," Amanda mutters, scrubbing the shampoo into her scalp harder than is necessary, and then standing beneath the spray of water to rinse it out of her hair. "I'm giving you time for puzzles."
"Amanda, I don't mind," Olivia says softly. "I'll do whatever you need to make you feel safe right now, until you can work out some strategies with Dr. Lindstrom for what to do in these kinds of situations, when you're feeling overwhelmed and scared."
Amanda has an arm folded up against the wall now, and is leaning her face into it, the bottle of conditioner clutched limply in one hand, and she is so exhausted and weary already, even though the day has barely begun. She has the sudden urge to ask Olivia to cancel her appointment, to call in sick to work, and crawl back into bed with her and hold her while she cries, but then rubs her face roughly across her arm, determined not to have another meltdown in the shower. She straightens up, opening the lid on the conditioner and preparing to pour it into her hand, when she hears Olivia shift on the floor.
"Liv, don't leave!" she gasps out, stunned at the panic that immediately stabs through her, dropping the bottle of conditioner onto the bottom of the tub and thrusting her head out through the shower curtain, anxious gaze fixed on the older woman.
"Hey, hey, relax," Olivia soothes, tossing the crossword puzzle aside and springing to feet, smoothing a hand over Amanda's wet hair. "I'm not going anywhere, I was just changing positions, honey. I'm getting a little too old to be sitting on the floor," she chuckles lightly, and Amanda leans into her touch and closes her eyes, as her boss continues to stroke a hand over her head.
"You're not old, Liv," she murmurs, the corner of her lip lifting slightly.
"Well, thanks, honey, but my body disagrees with you," Olivia replies, and Amanda opens her eyes again, her gaze locking onto the other woman's, and her boss frowns at her. "Are you alright, Amanda?" Olivia asks, concern in her tone again, as she runs the backs of fingers gently over her cheek. "I promise I'm not going to leave, okay? I'll stay in here until you're done." She pauses, and it sounds like the concern in her voice has turned to sadness. "I know this morning has been very challenging for you so far."
Amanda nods her head, willing herself not to burst into tears, overcome with anger and frustration that she cannot seem to get through a simple daily task now without it being emotionally overwhelming, without the threat of a complete breakdown, and she has to stop herself from leaning out of the tub to wrap her arms around Olivia, to beg the other woman to hold her until she stops hurting, until she feels normal again. She needs to pull herself together, but doesn't even know where to begin, and can't remember another time in her life when she has felt so helpless and out of control.
The uneasiness she has been feeling lately about her quick attachment to Olivia is becoming more pronounced, and the intensity of her feelings toward the other woman after such a short period of time are frightening her, that need to be with her constantly, to be so physically close, and she finds herself in a state of confusion about their relationship; knows that she has never felt so close to anyone else in her life, is not used to such fierce emotions and is having trouble understanding them. She is all too aware of the fact that she will be coming home alone when her appointment is over, and Olivia will be going to work, and after spending the entire weekend practically glued to the other woman's side, the thought of being by herself in her apartment for hours on end while she waits for Olivia to return is unnerving and disconcerting, and she can't even admit to herself how much it scares her. Amanda reminds herself that she had spent most of the previous week alone, in between staying with Olivia at her apartment and the older woman staying here, and that she can do it again; that this time it will only be hours instead of days that they are separated, but she feels physically ill at the thought of being all by herself once again, especially after starting the day off so terribly.
She doesn't voice any of what she is feeling, though, choosing to keep her thoughts to herself, as Olivia already has her hands full with Amanda's nightmares and panic attacks and addiction issues, and she doesn't want to burden her with anything else. She reminds herself that her boss' primary job is not babysitting her and keeping her company, holding her when she cries and cuddling her while they watch movies; that Olivia has an actual job that she needs to start getting ready for, and that Amanda is holding up the process by not continuing on with her shower.
She reluctantly pulls away from the older woman, assuring her that she is okay, and hurriedly picks up the bottle of conditioner from the bottom of the tub, squeezing a generous amount into her palm before rubbing it briskly into her long locks. She can't help peering through the crack in the shower curtain, though, just to assure herself that Olivia is indeed still here with her, unable to shake off the remnants of the earlier nightmare that seems to be clinging to her like a second skin, and for a split second she is strangely convinced that the man from the alley is going to be staring back at her, having taken the place of Olivia.
The older woman is still here, of course, back on the floor again, her legs crossed now, eyes fixed on the puzzle in front of her, but then she raises her head, one eyebrow quirked, and meets Amanda's gaze. "Are you spying on me, honey?" she asks lightly, and Amanda quickly ducks her head back inside the tub, a blush spreading across her cheeks.
"Sorry," she says sheepishly. "Just making sure you're still there."
"Amanda, I've told you several times that I'm not going anywhere," Olivia assures her patiently. "Come on, get finished up in there so I can jump in. We need to get moving or we're going to be late for your appointment."
She quickly rinses the conditioner from her hair and then turns the shower off, Olivia passing her a towel through the curtain before she even asks. She dries herself off and wraps the towel around her body, stepping out onto the bathmat, and giving the older woman a small smile.
"Thanks for staying with me, Liv. Let me know if you need a shower buddy too, okay?" The words are out of her mouth before she even knows what she is saying and she winces internally, realizing how inappropriate that had sounded, resisting the urge to cover her eyes and groan.
Olivia doesn't seem perturbed, though, just smirking slightly and thanking her for the offer, her tone slightly teasing, but assuring her that she will be fine on her own. Amanda leaves the bathroom, rolling her eyes at her own behavior and feeling flustered, a blush of embarrassment spreading across her cheeks again.
When she is in her bedroom searching through the clothes in her closet, wondering what one wears to a consultation appointment with a therapist, she finds that her thoughts are once again in complete turmoil, as they always seem to be now. Olivia is on her mind a lot these days, mixing in with the faceless, nameless man from the alley, the worry she has about the intensity of her panic attacks and the frequency of her nightmares, that urge to gamble still going strong, and she figures that Dr. Lindstrom is going to have a field day with her, that she has so many different issues that are all merging together into one giant mess, that he is not even going to know where to start.
She is doing up the buttons on her blouse, when she hears it again; the sudden patter of rain against the window behind her. Amanda freezes, her hands stilling against her shirt, and she knows that she is wide awake now, can see the sun shining brightly on the wall in front of her. She can smell the faint scent of smoke in the air now, and she squeezes her eyes shut, digging the heels of her hands into her closed eyelids, her heart rate picking up, sweat blooming on her forehead.
"It's okay, everything is okay," she whispers to herself, but then her heart is in her throat as she hears footsteps behind her, coming to a halt at her bedroom door, and she is afraid to turn around, terrified that it won't be Olivia standing there, but someone else, someone who wants to do her harm.
"Hey," Olivia's voice says, and Amanda whirls around, immensely relieved to see the other woman standing there, wrapped in a robe and rubbing a towel through her wet hair. "Are you alright?" she asks, frowning in concern, and Amanda gives a shaky nod.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she mumbles, hoping the other woman won't notice the way her hands are trembling as she continues buttoning her blouse.
"Are you sure?" Olivia asks, her frown deeper now, pulling the towel away from her head.
"Yeah," Amanda replies, fixing her with a tremulous smile, resolving to save her issues for the doctor and not continue to burden her boss with them. "I'm fine, Liv."
"Okay," the older woman says, still sounding unconvinced, but apparently choosing not to press further. "Are you almost ready to go?"
"Yes," she replies firmly, and she knows that truer words have never been spoken, that she is in desperate need of help, that she can't continue to live this way. "I'm more than ready."