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Better Days

Chapter Five

Part One

Olivia had too much time alone with her own thoughts. As soon as Elliot had gone, the obsession began. It was still hard to walk, but she wandered from one end of the apartment to the other, folding clothes, straightening up, trying to take her mind off Wheatley. But everywhere she looked, he was there.

Even when she stared out the window, she caught glimpses of his smug face holding the electric prod, ready to shock her again. Even when she closed her eyes shut, she could feel the force of the zip-tie tugging on her ankles and the mass of her insides weighing down on her chest.

But the humiliation was the worst of it. Elliot was watching the entire time, and he would never forget seeing her hanging upside down, naked, with Wheatley torturing her, knowing that this wasn't the first time she'd been victimized.

She looked down at her hands. They were quivering, and she tried to plant them in her pockets to still them, but she still felt them trembling. The worst thing about this whole ordeal was that it had brought up memories she thought she had long buried, and now they were compounded by the thoughts of a meat hook and a wildly spinning warehouse. She buried her face in her shaking hands. Every cigarette burn, every scrape, every smack to the face she'd endured at the hands of Lewis was now front and center once again, as if he and Wheatley had coordinated this, as if they were working together to bring her down lower than she'd ever been.

They may have won this time. She might not be able to recover this time, and she hated Wheatley for that.

Her cheeks flushed, and a knot rose from her stomach to her chest until she just had to get up and pace, as much anguish as each step cost her. Fuck Wheatley. Fuck him for bringing back these feelings of helplessness. For making her go through yet another period of recovery. For messing with her relationships to men.

Because now she was angry at men in general, and she couldn't distinguish the rage she felt toward Wheatley from the fury she felt toward Lewis. Even Elliot wasn't safe. If only he hadn't left her.

She shook her head, trying to toss the anger from her head, but it was still there, buzzing through her brain. She gripped her head, which made it hurt even worse than before. She exhaled huge puffs of air, panting her rage toward Wheatley until it travelled down into her fists, and she just had to expel it on something. She punched the wall, and it hurt, but she did it again, and then again.

And then she hugged herself, trying to contain the overwhelming feelings welling up inside her. She needed something to take the edge off and take the pain away, physical and emotional, and she went to the kitchen and took out two more pain pills and downed them without anything to wash them down.

As the hours passed, her restlessness grew, and she thought she might scream if she didn't find a way to calm herself. She thought of calling Elliot but didn't want to distract him from his mission—finding Wheatley to bring him down. In, she meant. Bring him in.

Her door buzzer rang, and she got a twinge of hope that it was Elliot, but then remembered she'd given him her key. It was Amanda, coming to check on her, although she wasn't sure if she was ready to see the detective. But she let her in, and Amanda glanced at her once and then scanned her up and down, and Olivia wondered what was so fascinating.

"You okay?" Amanda said.

"Yeah. Fine. Why?"

"You look…I don't know, tired?"

"Haven't slept."

"At all? Since yesterday?"

"I slept a little in the hospital, an hour maybe."

Amanda touched her arm. "So let me get this straight. Last night you came home from the hospital, the night before that you escaped from Wheatley…you haven't slept in three days?"

"I haven't been able to, Amanda. It's not like I haven't tried."

"No wonder you look exhausted." Amanda started to guide her to the couch by her elbow. "Come on, you need to rest."

But Olivia pulled away from her. "I need to use the restroom."

She didn't really, she just wanted to see for herself how bad she looked. When she got in and shut the door, she stared at herself in the mirror again. Dark baggy circles under her eyes, ashen skin, a permanent scowl planted on her lips. Yep. She looked a mess, all thanks to Wheatley.

A little bit of her burn mark peeked out from the v-neck of her hoodie, and just the sight of it sent heat to her cheeks. Dammit, she didn't want to be in this position again. She didn't want to feel feeble, or open up again in counseling, or be afraid of her own shadow. A tightness gripped her, and she had to let it out or a volcano of emotions was going to blow her body apart.

She punched the mirror, and it cracked in a satisfying clinking sound as shards of glass scattered all over the counter. She stood frozen for a moment, staring at her shattered reflection, pieces of her reflecting in all directions, distorting her mangled image. She snapped out of her trance when she finally heard the pounding on the door, and she was able to move out of her frozen pose enough to open the door.

"Olivia!" Amanda rushed in, grabbing a towel.

Olivia glanced down just in time to see blood gushing from her pummeled knuckles. She hadn't even realized she was bleeding. Amanda wrapped it hastily and led her to the couch, and then pulled out her phone and made a call. Still stuck in a stupor, Olivia barely heard Amanda's part of the conversation, but it sounded like she was talking to Elliot.

When Amanda returned to her side, she said, "Do you have a first aid kit?"

Olivia nodded, feeling like tears were stuck behind her eyes and not knowing how to release them. "In the bathroom."

While Amanda worked on bandaging her bloody knuckles, Olivia stared straight ahead, oblivious to everything around her. If she thought about anything, she would be flooded with terrifying memories, and she was too tired for that. The door rattled, and she startled, until Elliot barged in and rushed to her.

His face dripped with worry. "What happened?"

He knelt in front of her and took her bandaged hand in his, gently, as if he might break her. She couldn't look at him, too ashamed by what she had done. What was wrong with her? Was she losing her mind?

Amanda answered when Olivia didn't. "I don't know. I just came in the bathroom when I heard glass shattering—I think she put her hand through the mirror."

Olivia focused on her bandaged hand now, staring at the crimson stains on her hoodie. It had been one of her favorites…

"Liv? What's going on?"

She gulped. "I…I don't know. I just…" She shook her head.

"Was this an accident? Did you trip?"

She kept shaking her head, slow and steady. "No, I…I punched the mirror."

She kept her gaze on her injured hand, so she didn't see the exchange of looks between Elliot and Amanda, except glimpses out of the corner of her eye. Amanda stood and touched her shoulder. "I'm going to go, Liv. I think you're in good hands now. Take care of yourself."

Elliot walked Amanda to the door, and Olivia heard her underling whisper, "She needs sleep—she hasn't slept in days."

The door shut and Elliot returned to sit next to her. He slunk into an awkward silence for a moment, and then said, "You want to tell me what's going on?"

She sucked her focus back. If she didn't speak now, she was going to be locked up in a psych ward before she knew it. "I'm just…tired."

"You need something to help you sleep?"

"I already took more pain pills a couple of hours ago."

He touched the tips of her fingers that stuck out from the bandaging. "We've got to do something to help you sleep. You're losing it, Liv."

She whispered a seething reply. "You think I don't know that?"

He stood and ran a hand over his shaved head. "Maybe I should call the doctor."

"I don't need a caretaker, El. I can call. Which one were you going to contact, anyway?"

"What do you mean, which one?"

She rubbed the bandages on her hand, admiring Amanda's work. "The doctor doctor? Or the head doctor?"

"Why, you think you need one?"

"I've already got one, thanks." She still couldn't look at him. "Look, El, if you want to know what's wrong, just replay the last couple of days. Speaking of…did you find Wheatley?"

"No, not yet. It might take a while. Liv, you've got to get some rest—"

She shot to her feet, unable to contain the imaginary ants crawling on her skin. "And you have to get him, El." She slapped her palm to her forehead, unable to think. "You need to get him and—"

She took a step toward him and stumbled, and he grabbed her before she fell. "Liv—"

She grabbed on to his arm and steadied herself. Her strength wavering, she clutched him with what little was left of it. "Elliot, don't worry about me. I'll sleep as soon as I can. You're wasting valuable time. Go get Wheatley."

He shook his head incredulously, still holding her up. "No, Liv. You're obsessing over this, and you're exhausted. I can't just leave you alone."

Her anger finally took control over her shame, and she locked eyes with him. "Elliot, you have to do this for me."

He searched her face, as if probing for some sign of sanity. "I will. As soon as you get some rest."

Using the last little bit of her energy, she shoved him backward, and the loudness of her voice surprised her. "Get out!" He just stared at her, eyes wide, shaking his head. She pointed at him. "You owe me this. Now go out there, get Wheatley, and take him down."

He fell back a step, but his voice stayed calm. "Liv, you're not thinking straight. You're over-reacting. Go to bed, and we'll talk about this in the morning."

Although she knew deep down that he was right, his words just infuriated her even more, and hot, angry tears punctuated her diatribe. "No, Elliot. You have to do this. You owe me."

No, no, no, don't go there, her consciousness was telling her. But she was on a roll now, and she couldn't stop herself if she tried her hardest. "You have no idea what I've been through—" She didn't remember how she got there, but she was up in his face now, and because he stood his ground, they were nose to nose and she could see every twitch in his face.

"You don't know what it's like to spend four days drugged, having liquor poured down your singed throat, praying that you don't have hot metal pressed against your bare skin once more." She slid her sleeve down for emphasis and pointed to a white scar that had mostly healed over the years. "What it's like to beg for your life, to wonder if you're ever going to see the people you love ever again."

He stared at her defiantly, but his expression softened, and she didn't like the sympathy in his eyes but she continued, shouting now. "And you couldn't know, because you weren't there."

Tears flowed freely now, and she tried to sniffle them away, but her face was a mess and she couldn't keep up with it by wiping away all the muck with her hand. "You weren't there for me, Elliot." She shoved him again, and his step back was a little more wobbly this time, a little less assured. She wiped her mouth, not realizing that she was yelling so loud that spittle escaped the corner of her lips. "So you owe me, Elliot. You didn't save me from Lewis, but you need to make up for it. You need to kill him—"

She stopped abruptly, slamming her eyes shut when she realized what she'd just said. Elliot grasped her arm and said softly, "Liv, do you hear yourself?"

She spun away from him and took steps toward the bedroom. "I didn't—I mean…"

What did she mean? Was that what she really wanted from him? Maybe he was right—it wasn't like her to ask for something so…illegal. But it would solve her Wheatley problem.

What am I thinking?!

"I'm…I'm sorry, El. I'm just, you know, really tired."

She swayed, and he was at her side holding her up again. "I know. Let's get you into the bedroom."

"I'm…I don't know what I'm saying, Elliot. I'm just…"

She grabbed onto him, and took one painful step after another, her eyes drooping until she could barely keep them open. Elliot helped her into bed, and she dropped into it like a stone. The weight of her body sunk into the mattress like she'd never slept a day in her life and was making up for it. Elliot sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed her arm, and she felt herself drifting off.

But before she did, she grabbed his hand and said, "Those things I said—"

"Shhh…it's okay, Liv. We'll talk about it in the morning. Just sleep for now."

He caressed her hand, and then her back, and the emptiness of sleep consumed her.