A/N: Again—sorry for the delay! I got the first half of this done last night, but I wanted to put everything I had into the second part of this chapter (now Ch. 12), because that's what it deserves. This chapter contains major trigger warnings for detailed mentions of rape, abuse, and suicide. PLEASE do not read this if you are at risk for being triggered. And remember, you are not alone: National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (24/7): 1-800-273-8255.

xxxxxxxxxx

The rest of Olivia's shift had been filled with astronomical amounts of anxiety; it seemed as though nothing could diminish the high levels of cortisol plaguing her brain. After Carisi had barged in on her crying, Olivia was again crass with the caring young man, who just wanted to help, just as she had been on Saturday night when he interrupted her conversation with Amanda. The brunette felt a little guilty, but even countless vain attempts to take deep breaths couldn't calm her, and she is both too physically and emotionally exhausted to really care about anything other than Amanda Rollins today. The lieutenant tried her best to remain present for both her colleagues and the victims she was dealing with for the remainder of her day, but to no avail.

Amanda and Olivia had remained texting each other throughout the rest of Olivia's shift, but that just didn't seem to be enough to settle the usually independent, older woman, who ordinarily appreciates her solitude. Olivia is completely frustrated with just how clingy she feels toward Amanda lately, especially with how frequently her chaotic mind played tricks on her each time the younger woman didn't text back right away. With another attempt to calm her nervous system by taking a deep breath and focusing on something she can hear, see, and touch, Olivia is subsequently relieved when she sees Fin and Carisi starting to pack up their belongings, meaning it is finally the end of their workday. As she begins to gather up her purse and shrugs on a lengthy, grey-colored pea coat over her shoulders, her phone buzzes again, which promptly sends her already-jumpy body into a something like a state of shock.

"Can you come over?"

The text from the younger woman is so simple, and so short, that Olivia needs to re-read it twice more to fully grasp the magnitude it contains. She feels a heat blooming in her cheeks and her heart hammering against her ribs as she speedily taps her fingers over the keyboard to reply "Absolutely. Be there in thirty."

xxxxxxxxxx

As soon as Olivia steps off the elevator and walks toward Amanda's apartment, her ears are greeted with the sounds of muffled sobs and heavy panting as she inches closer to the door. Olivia intuitively knew that the younger woman had been silently grieving; no matter how much she denied it or tried to put on a brave face. Overcome with guilt for going back to work today, she softly places her head against the dark-stained wood; tears streaming down her cheeks as clumps of brunette strands soak against her neck. She chokes back a loud sob as listens more closely at Amanda's pain. "Okay, Liv," she whispers out loud to herself, "put your own goddamn feelings aside. Your girl needs you right now." She inhales three, quiet breaths, and emotionally readies herself for what's waiting inside.

"'M…'Manda?" Olivia lightly prods, tapping the tips of her fingernails against the wood in lieu of a full knock, careful not to startle the emotional detective. "It's me, sweetheart…it's Liv."

The older woman loudly exhales sigh of relief and uses the sleeve of her coat to wipe the tears from her cheeks when she hears a figure get up from what she assumes is the couch, and pad across the floor toward the entrance of the apartment. As soon as Amanda unhooks the pad-lock and the door is opened, Olivia has to consciously work to keep her face unexpressive, once she sees how sick and sad the tiny blonde looks.

"Hey, sweetheart," Olivia whispers to the tear-stricken, shaking detective as she grabs the tiny body into her arms, "it's okay, I'm here." The younger woman is clad in nothing but a little pair of Soffe shorts and a white tank top, leaving little to Olivia's imagination; however, she tries to cram down the rising arousal she feels blooming in between her thighs as she comforts her devastated detective. Amanda's usually polished and straight blonde hair has morphed into a hybrid of a half-bun, half-down bird's nest; there are strands sticking up and out from all over, which only amplifies just how sick she looks. Any makeup she was wearing previously earlier in the day has streaked down her face from crying so much; mascara and eyeliner clumped into little, chunky hills in the purple rings underneath her tired eyes.

Olivia eventually musters up enough strength to shut the heavy door of the apartment, and guides Amanda over to the couch, where Frannie sits, anxiously awaiting the two distressed women. As soon as they clumsily stumble down onto the comfortable, sinking piece of furniture, Amanda slumps right back into Olivia's arms, just like how she had taken up residence earlier that day in the cab. It's only happened a few times now, but Amanda—even through her grief—recognizes just how thankful she is for her boss, who has made no qualms in tending to her throughout this difficult period of her life. The blonde also realizes she is still crying, and has no intention to stop. Olivia finds herself desperately wanting to interrogate the younger woman; feeling herself impossibly inhibited with worry and panic as she continues to listen to the strangled sobs coming from Amanda's mouth placed directly underneath her own head. She hesitates, though, and allows the younger woman to continue crying for as long as she pleases. Again, it takes everything she has in her for Olivia to tamp down her own heartbreak at this situation; much to her dismay, tiny tears escape from her dark, chocolate orbs, and end up gliding down her cheeks and into Amanda's blonde, messy hair.

Once Amanda finally regains control of her breath, and the tears have dwindled from rivers into soft streams, she is absolutely mortified when she becomes conscious of her current situation. She had been having an intense panic attack that lasted from shortly after the time she got home, up until now, and instead of handling it herself—or—with a bottle of Jameson, she had done exactly what she had vowed not to do again—place her burdens onto the woman she loves. "Liv…" the blonde murmurs, "I feel…I feel really guilty."

"Why do you feel guilty?" Olivia raggedly exhales. "Talk to me, honey, please," she continues, fastening her grip around the younger woman's unsteady arms. The younger woman doesn't reply right away, and Olivia's eyes suddenly widen in response to the demonic-like possession overtaking Amanda's usual soft, blue orbs.

Instantaneously, Amanda scrambles out of her superior's embrace, and hurriedly contorts her lower limbs into a cross-legged position to sit across from the baffled older woman on the couch. "You ever think that God would actually want us to kill ourselves, Liv?" she frantically asks, glazed-over blue boring into widened brown. "He made it so easy," she chuckles. "The carotid artery. Easy access. One cut and you're done!"

Olivia is as confused as she is worried, now, and struggles to keep herself from impulsively wrapping Amanda in another embrace yet again.

"As much as I hate to admit it, though, I really do admire daddy for how he offed himself. Hangin' yourself—that takes guts, Liv. I think if I were to finally do it, I'd be a wimp about it, and just slice my wrists and swallow a whole buncha pills."

"Amanda, please don't say things like that," Olivia dolefully begs.

Amanda can't hear her, however, her mind now miles away, drowning in painful memories. "Ya know…" the blonde trails off, eyes now glaring at the corner of the ceiling in disassociation. "What happened with Patton…it was bad…it was…it was one of the worst things to ever happen to me…but I learned that it wasn't my fault."

"No, sweetheart, of course, that wasn't your fault," Olivia consoles, cracks in her voice as her eyes spill more tears. "That could never be your fault."

"I know, Liv," Amanda promptly replies. "But ya know…what my daddy used to do to me…I deserved it."

Amanda is still staring off into space, but instinctually inches a little closer to the older woman, whose hands are now clasped tight in a knot in front of her heart center. "I don't know what I ever did to make him hate me so much…" the younger woman goes on.

"Amanda," Olivia assertively states, "what did your father do to you? Please, can you just tell me?"

Although Amanda is miles away, she internally feels a tinge of guilt as she realizes she is beginning to open up; however, she is confident in the fact she can trust the woman sitting across from her with absolute certainty. "I think the better question, Liv, is what didn't he do to me?" Amanda averts her gaze from the ceiling to bore into Olivia's still-wide, coal-colored eyes. "I wasn't even six years old before he started to hit me. He…he loved to hit me…almost as much as he loved money, and other women, and booze, and…hitting my mom."

"'Manda," Olivia replies soothingly, lifting a finger to trail across the blonde's shaking hand, "I'm so sorry." Amanda draws in a shaky breath, and continues to word-vomit, as she typically calls it.

"Before my parents split, the judge decided to have them try a 'nesting period,'" she states with an angry chuckle. "Just another prime example of the United States Government failing those who are too vulnerable to protect themselves. I was twelve years old; can you think of a worse age for your parents to tell you they're getting divorced?"

Fuck this, Olivia internally notes, before she grabs ahold of both of the younger woman's hands.

"Liv, please. Let me finish, before I shut down again," Amanda responds, pulling away, and shifting her weight to stand up to pace back and forth across the length of the couch.

"The nesting period," she snickers again. "That's when it was the worst. I remember it like it was yesterday. The family court system decided that it would be a good idea for separating parents to take turns leaving the house, instead of making the kids leave multiple times a week. On Monday, Wednesday, Friday, mom stayed home with Kim and I; Tuesday and Thursday, we were with daddy. They alternated weekends."

Olivia nods her head in response, listening so intently, like her life depends on it. "Where did they stay when they weren't at home?" she asks, thoughtfully.

"My mom stayed with my grandma," Amanda replies. "I never knew where daddy was when it wasn't his day. I hated weekends with him, Liv…they were always the worst."

"Why, honey? Why were they the worst?" Olivia echoes, internally chastising herself for grabbing ahold of Amanda's hands without her permission a few moments earlier.

"Daddy was always angry that he had to stay home with us on a weekend. He would torture me until I either called my mom, begging her to come home—or the police, which always resulted in my mom coming home anyways." Amanda clasps her head in her hands, plucking blonde hair from the messy hybrid away from her face, the strands coated in wet tears.

"Do you need a break, 'Manda?" Olivia feebly whispers to the detective, who is still anxiously pacing—trying her best not to knock over Frannie—who is following her owner's every move. Amanda shakes her head no, and finds the will to keep speaking.

"I wasn't the best student, but I tried to at least do my homework when I wasn't taking care of Kim. On daddy's weekends, after I put her to bed, I would try to study. Daddy didn't like that," she remarks with a shudder.

"There was this one time…" Amanda trails off, tangling her hands together in a giant knot, squeezing her fingers so tight that Olivia can see white forming on her skin. "This one time…he was so drunk…and he was so angry, Liv. He was so, so angry. I locked my door, I swear I locked it; but our house was so old that he could easily break it down. That one time…he kicked it in…I was so scared that I was shaking…and he hit me so hard, I passed out."

"Jesus, Amanda, I'm so sorry…" Olivia sheepishly replies, unsure of how to comfort her devastated friend.

Amanda closes her eyes and nods her head in response, attempting to choke back some more tears. "I woke up with dried blood under my nose and without my shorts on," she manages to utter. "I don't remember what happened. That was the only time I woke up not knowing where my underwear was…but he hit me Liv, he hit me so goddamn hard," she states, letting out a raspy exhale. "I really don't know what I did to deserve that. He hit me all of the goddamn time. But I figure…good people don't deserve stuff like that…so I must not be good."

"Amanda," Olivia angrily retorts, "you are good. You are one of the best people I know."

"Yeah," the blonde pathetically chuckles, "that's what Patton told me too; I was his 'good girl,' remember?"

Immediately, Olivia profusely apologies for her poor choice in words; utterly aghast at how she could possibly forget the magnitude they contain. However, Amanda is so deep inside of her latent memory, she isn't offended in the slightest.

"I was so happy when the nesting period was over, and daddy moved out for good. I only saw him one time after that, but that's a story for another day…" she trails off, internally deciding if she would like to continue with this conversation, as if she has a choice in the words furiously spilling from her mouth. "We moved in with my grandma. Bless her heart. She had dementia, so it was actually probably a good thing that we started to live with her. I wish I could say that's when things got better…but…that's when my mom started to spin out of control. I was still the only one there for Kim." "And myself," she corrects.

"Honey…" Olivia begins to remark, before she left breathless and crying. She rapidly shakes her head back and forth, in an attempt to snap herself out of it. "I…I am…s-so sorry, 'Manda. You didn't deserve any of that. Please believe me. You were a child. You had no control over the vicious abuse that happened to you…and I know you hate to think of yourself as a victim…but in this situation, you were…you are, honey. I hope you come to know that someday soon."

"I think I'm done talking for tonight, Liv," Amanda weakly mutters, before she plops back down onto the couch and feels her eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. Olivia nods her head in agreement, feeling totally overcome with emotion herself, and resorts to tracing her fingers through Amanda's undone hair.

"Did you eat anything today? Olivia whispers into the blonde's ear, "I can order us some food," she continues, peppering the blonde crown with light kisses.

"I'm not hungry, Liv. I'm sorry," Amanda faintly replies, before she sinks deeper into the older woman's embrace, and is sucked into the depths of unconsciousness.