WARNING: This chapter involves graphic imagery pertaining to Implied/Referenced Suicide and Suicidal Thoughts
xxxxx
The bathroom had fallen quiet minutes ago. A deafening silence pervaded every inch of the small apartment, turning the bathroom into a tiny sensory deprivation tank. She wasn't sure of the time that had passed, nor could she find the strength to move. She was frozen there on the floor, her bottom aching from sitting on the hard tile. The tears had dried on her face, and now as she gazed at the piles of hair littering the counter and floor, her mind drifted.
Her head lolled back against the wall, and she closed her eyes as flashes of memories passed through her mind, a horrific slideshow of violence. Despite the drugs and the alcohol she'd been given, the moments of clarity were as crisp and clear as a summer day. How could she forget when she'd forced her own eyes open to witness his unending brutality?
Her mind slowed to sluggish crawl as she recalled the beach house once more. She drew in a sharp breath, her fingers clutching the bathroom rug. The pain was deep and aching in her chest, as vivid as if she were truly back inside those minutes of torture.
You don't get to talk about him….
She grimaced, clenching her teeth over the foaming saliva of tears.
Lewis hadn't needed to touch her to cause her all the pain in the world. He'd finally found her breaking point, the rawest wound which he could prod until she screamed. He'd tried so many things - physical torture, manipulation, degradation, and humiliation. He'd tried guilting her, asking what her team would think of her now. He'd tried calling her vile names, followed by the most poisonous of kisses, but she'd fought back with every ounce of her being...But it wasn't until he was on the floor, bleeding and bound, that he'd reached to the deepest of her hauntings. She could only wonder what would've happened if he'd found it sooner…
She'd paced the floor, gun in hand, debilitated by the memories of a person she'd trusted with her life - only to be let down time and again; yet she knew none of this would've happened had he remained by her side. That realization had only driven the wedge of pain sharper into her heart. Perhaps it had driven her to do what she had done more than Lewis's taunting.
He'd never be there for her again. He wouldn't even be there to save her in this moment or in the wake of this tragedy. She'd wondered if he even cared.
Her eyes dragged open to the sound of her own gasping cries. Her chest was heaving, stomach turning. She was sick with her own weakness, with the fact that she ached even now, three years later. She burned with anger towards Lewis, the one person who'd finally managed to make her face her feelings towards the shadow of the only man she'd ever loved.
She groaned out, curses forming on her lips as she bent forward. Clutching at her shorn hair, she panted heavily until the scream rose upon her tongue, welling up against her clenched jaw until she couldn't swallow it back anymore.
"Die…" She groaned, her voice emitting garbled and mutilated, barely recognizable; but the only response was Lewis laughing inside her mind.
"Die!" She screamed louder, bolting up from the floor, her limbs shaking and tingling with fear and adrenaline.
The thought that she could find him and kill him entered her mind like a stray bullet, wild and dangerous. She stood in the middle of the bathroom, trembling, hands clenched into fists, mind spinning. She didn't dare to look into the mirror.
Disjointed plans of ending Lewis's life galloped through her mind, one after another. Illogical and impossible as they were, she ignored every warning.
Bolting from the bathroom, she ran down the hall to Brian's bedroom. Her mind was set on destruction as she entered the room, glancing about with a wild gaze.
Brian always kept a weapon nearby. Like her, he trusted no one. There had to be something inside this room.
She darted towards the bed, and threw back the covers, her hand shaking as she grabbed the pillow. She patted it down before tossing it aside. Panting loudly, she heaved the mattress up to look underneath. Releasing a sound of frustration, she threw the mattress down and spun towards the nightstand. She ripped open the drawer, scattering the contents across the floor. A dull thud stopped her cold, and she turned slowly towards the mess she'd made on the floor. Dropping to her knees, she rifled through the clutter until she found the gun, glinting enticingly beneath the soft, yellow light of the bedroom.
It was a small revolver, barely the length of her hand, but when her fingers wrapped around the handle, a shudder went through her.
She lifted it in front of her, clasping both hands over the butt. Asserting her finger to the trigger, she lined up the sights.
The full length mirror hanging on the back of the bedroom door came into focus in front of her hand and she whimpered at the sight of her staring down the muzzle of a gun at herself. Her hands wavered as she noticed the uneven, jagged ends of her hair dangling around her jaw. Her eyes were bloodshot, face flushed with tears.
Insane. She thought. I look insane.
She sank back on her heels as emotion clutched her once more. There was no possible way that she could exact her revenge on Lewis, especially in this state. There was no way to heal the shattering of her heart; no way to be whole again.
She tumbled back against the bedframe as the strength bled from her bones. The gun was suddenly a weight in her hand, dragging her down into the depths of darkness.
A whimper slipped from her lips and she clasped one hand over her face, if only to hide her own tears from her reflection.
Come on, baby, Lewis smirked inside her mind, Just end it. Don't let this go to trial.
"Die…" She whispered, dragging her hand back to stare down at the gun.
Lifting it slowly upwards, she stared at the empty, black hole at the end. Sniffing against tears, she lifted her other quaking hand to assist in opening the chamber. She shivered at the sight of the bullets inside, fully loaded.
She did have the power to end it all.
In the darkness of her own mind, she whimpered, once more, "Just fucking die…."
xxxxxx
What little defense Amanda had erected against her rising anxiety had quickly disintegrated with each step closer to Brian's apartment. The subway ride to the Upper West Side had taken far too long, hankered by the Lincoln Tunnel accident nearby, and by her own mounting concern. There'd been far too many people taking their commute home after the workday, and Amanda had stood as close to the door as possible, gripping the overhead rail. She'd tried to ignore the packed subway, and nauseating rocking of the car, but imagining the worse possible scenarios was even more gut wrenching.
When the subway finally came to her stop, Amanda stepped quickly off the train, nearly jogging to stay ahead of the crowd. She ran up the stairs two at a time, and emerged onto 86th and Broadway, not far from the apartment. The two block walk left her impatient and breathless with concern.
Something deep in her stomach twisted with apprehension, warning bells ringing in her ears. She wasn't sure exactly what she was expecting to discover inside the apartment, but she couldn't find the peace of mind to believe that she'd find Olivia mentally stable. Remembering the aftermath of the rape kit, it seemed almost impossible. She knew well what had happened the last time Olivia had been left alone.
Amanda pulled out her phone to confirm the address from the text Brian had sent her as she jogged up the front steps of the building. Her heart was racing shallowly in her chest, and her hands were cold with anxious perspiration as she punched in the code to the front gate.
Upon stepping inside, she frantically glanced up and down the hall at the numbered doors before heading towards the steps.
162. 162. 162.
Her mind repeated, her lips following along in a harsh whisper as she reached the top.
It occurred to her that it might have been more effective to take the elevator, and damned her mind for tripping over itself in its worry, but that insidious seed of premonition wouldn't allow her to clear her head for even a second.
Cursing under her breath, she found elevator and jabbed the button. She bit her inner lip impatiently until the doors opened and she could step inside and find the floor she needed. Once the car began to move she sank back against the wall with a long sigh.
A couple of hours….Anything could have happened. What was he thinking?
She squeezed her eyes shut against vivid images of possible, horrific scenarios, unable to relax until the ding of the elevator alerted her that she'd reached her destination. She pushed away from the wall and strode out into the hall. Up ahead she could spot 162, the numbers seeming to screech at her from their place upon the door.
She grabbed the key from her pocket and marched to the apartment's entrance. Grabbing the knob with near shaking fingers, she jammed the key into the lock and wrenched it open. She slowed as she stepped inside the unfamiliar space, finding her heart knocking loud in her ears against the dooming quiet.
It was achingly, hollowly silent, as if it had been long abandoned of any single human presence.
The click of the door latching behind her was loud in her ears, and the rustling of her own breath seemed almost invasive. The apprehension that had clutched her for her entire trek here rose in an even higher wave to engulf her.
"Olivia?" Her voice emitted in a raspy whisper, skittering across the walls.
She stepped forward, her wide eyes darting across the empty living room and kitchen. Brian's clutter dominated the space, but there was no evidence of Olivia which terrified her even more. She didn't know the layout well, but she plunged forward, finding no one in the outer rooms. She slowed her search when she noticed a light spilling from a room down a hallway to her right.
"Olivia?" She called out once more, a tremble overlaying her tone.
She swallowed against the dryness of her tongue as she moved towards the room. The sink and mirror came into view, and she frowned, not imagining that the door would be open if Olivia were inside the bathroom.
"Liv?" She whispered, despite her confusion as she came to stand in the doorway.
Her gaze fell over the deserted room where here she finally found a sign of the other woman, though not what she had expected. Dark, chestnut hair littered the bathroom counter and floor in thick, uneven clumps. A pair of scissors lay discarded haphazardly on the floor just under the edge of the cabinet.
Amanda clutched at the door frame, her mind turning over and over at the scene, her stomach doing much the same.
This hadn't been a light hearted experiment, nor an eager transformation. This hadn't been some kind of soul searching or reimagining of herself. This hadn't even been kind.
God, Olivia, what have you done…?
Amanda tore her hands from their death grip on the doorframe, and looked back towards the hall in the direction of the last unsearched space in the apartment.
Swallowing against fear, she squeezed her hands into trembling fists and took the first step towards the bedroom. She held onto the last bits of hope that Olivia was unharmed before the short space fled beneath her feet, leaving her to stand in the open threshold.
Olivia…
The syllables wouldn't quite slip from her lips, even on the barest of volumes. Horror left her dangling somewhere between shocked immobility and desperate pleading.
She'd trained her entire life for these situations. Hell, she'd seen her father stare hopelessly into the bottom of a bottle when the last of his cash was drowned in uncontrollable gambling. She'd talked victims off the edges of buildings and away from the barrel of a gun, but she wasn't prepared to see it here. No, she'd never expected to see that dead and empty gaze in the eyes of someone like her…
But there she sat.
Her head was lowered, shorn strands of hair dangling over her watery, vacant expression. She was slumped against the bedframe, one arm languishing across her bent knee. In her ashen fingers dangled a snub-nosed revolver, it's tiny frame holding all the threat that Amanda had prayed she'd never face.
Silence ticked like a time bomb in Amanda's ears, and though fear burnt through her veins with the urge for her to fucking do something, she felt rooted to her place in the doorway, a helpless spectator to this heart wrenching collapse.
"I could've shot him." Olivia's husky tone shattered the unnerving silence.
She lifted her head, her dark eyes gazing back at Amanda, empty and broken. Her fingers clenched about the gun handle, and she held it up in front of her face, brow furrowing.
"I had the gun on his fucking face. I could've done it. He could be dead…" Her tone dipped, her lips twisting against the emotion that shimmered in her eyes. "Right now."
She thumbed the hammer, her fingers visibly quivering, eyes narrowed upon the barrel of the gun.
"Olivia…" Amanda finally whispered, her voice emitting on the tremble of of a terrified, barely audible whisper.
She finally took a step forward, her limbs feeling weighed down with the force of Olivia's despair and regret. Fear clenched her lungs, holding oxygen captive as she watched Olivia hang in the balance, right above this crushing abyss of hopelessness.
Olivia lifted her eyes to hers, a single tear escaping from her eyes and trailing to the corner of her mouth.
"I would kill him right now if I could." She whispered, her tone gravelly.
Amanda swallowed hard against the barren dryness of her throat as she took another hesitant step forward, both hands extended.
"I know." She whispered.
It shook her to her core that she was so terrified of what Olivia might do. She'd never questioned this woman for a second, this brave person she'd always held such respect and admiration for. She'd never imagined a day would come where she'd approach her with anything other than trust.
"I want to hurt him too." Amanda continued. "But it doesn't change anything. You know that."
"It could." Olivia murmured in reply, barely a whisper.
She stared back at the gun, her thumb dragging against the hammer once more. Amanda could see it slowly cocking, ready to twist a bullet into place. One more squeeze, just one more tiny action, and they both could be horribly injured.
"Listen." Amanda whispered, desperate to steer Olivia away from this line of thinking. "You hurt him. For everyone he's hurt, you took a piece of him, and you took away his power to do it any more. You did enough."
Olivia grimaced at her words, a short, hoarse laugh emitting from her throat.
"He wanted me to kill him." She returned sharply. "And I thought… No, I can't let him have what he wants...that's too easy. I want him to suffer. But he knew once I held that gun on him that I wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it."
"Thinking about what?" Amanda whispered, though she had a sinking feeling that she already knew.
"Killing him." Olivia returned, her voice twisting with something that Amanda could make out as guilt. "He knew it would consume me just like it consumed him."
"You're not a killer, Olivia." Amanda whispered, taking another step forward and dropping to her knees in front of the other woman. "You're not like him at all."
"It wouldn't ever be enough…." Olivia whispered, as if she'd hardly heard her, "The things he did… The things he made me do… I want to do more than end his life…"
She clenched her jaw against tears which rose sharply in her eyes, and Amanda could see her fingers flexing around the gun once more, weilding it higher.
"That's more than justifiable." She insisted though her throat was closing over with fear at the intention in Olivia's eyes. "No one could endure what you have and want anything different."
"I don't want to live like this." She whispered in a shattered tone, her trembling fingers clenching around the revolver with intention.
"Wait, wait." Amanda begged in horror as she watched Olivia wrench the hammer back.
Olivia's vacant gaze met Amanda's slowly and her lips tightened over a tremor as another tear slipped from the corner of her eye, racing towards her jaw. The gun wavered in her hand, arching higher with deadly premonition.
For a moment, Amanda felt frozen with terror, with disbelief; but then their gaze locked. Olivia's expression crumbled, like a landslide finally giving way beneath the force of gravity.
"I want to die." She sobbed, gasping over panicked tears, "Jesus, please, just let me die."
"No!" Amanda cried out, lunging forward at last to grab Olivia's arm as the she lifted the gun towards her head.
Olivia pulled back, sharply, wrenching away from Amanda's grasp as she dragged the barrel tight against her temple. Tears spilt down her cheeks in thick rivulets, and a choked sob emitted from her lips as her finger trembled sharply over the trigger.
"Olivia, stop, please!" Amanda begged, grabbing Olivia's arm, despite the threat of the bullet lying in wait just inside the barrel.
All of her courses on negotiation, and all of her field experience fled from her mind in the wake of absolute panic. Everything within her screamed at her not to let this happen even as nightmarish images of the bullet exploding filled her mind. In her desperation, she was ready to wrestle the gun from Olivia's hand with all force necessary, but Olivia's grip was shockingly strong and determined.
She tilted her head back against the bed, moaning and whimpering, as she cradled the revolver to her head as if it were her final lifeline - or rather, her final comfort.
"Olivia, please…." Amanda whispered, her voice breaking as she sank down on her heels between Olivia's thighs, desperately clawing at arm.
"He's in my head all the time." Olivia whispered, her voice thick and twisted with tears, "I just want it to end."
"I know, I know, and I'm so sorry…" Amanda whispered as emotion engulfed her chest, seizing her throat. "But please….please….I'm begging you…"
She sank down further against Olivia, laying her head against her chest as tears burned her lids, spilling over onto her cheeks. Her fingers quavered around Olivia's arm, clinging to the hope that she would listen, and find the strength to carry on.
Olivia's chest heaved beneath her forehead, rocking them both with desperate sobs; and Amanda knew that she was close enough to be harmed should the gun go off, but she didn't care. All she could think about what dragging Olivia away from this cliff before she could jump.
"Please, listen, this isn't your only choice." Amanda whispered, passionately, "This is not the end of you. There is more to you than this."
Olivia moaned, her arm taut against Amanda's hold, ready to take back the control over the situation; but Amanda tightened her fingers, hard enough to bruise. This couldn't be the end. She wouldn't let it be. Lewis had already taken so much, and destroyed so many, and if Olivia truly was to be his final victim, Amanda refused to let him have the last laugh.
Anger raged through her chest, and she claimed it, welding it into a forceful burst of determination. Lifting her head, she grabbed Olivia's face with her free hand and shook her.
"No, he doesn't get to win here." She demanded, "Give me the gun, Liv. Please."
Olivia's stared back at her through watery gaze, her face twisted in agony, but she hardly moved.
"You're not a bad person." Amanda insisted, harshly, "This man hurt you. He hurt so many people, and you had every good, fucking reason to do what you did."
"I joined SVU to help people." Olivia cried, her voice trailing into a whine.
"You have, and you will." Amanda insisted. "There's people who deserve your help, and William Lewis is not one of them."
She slid her hand further up Olivia's arm until she was clutching her wrist, ready to wrench the gun away as soon as she loosened her grip.
"Let me have the gun, Olivia." She whispered. "I know who you are, and so do you. You are not a murderer, and you're not a failure."
Olivia sobbed loudly in response, hunching even further down, but her hand finally lapsed down against Amanda's, releasing the weapon. Amanda immediately grabbed it, relief rushing through her chest as she tried to steady her trembling hands to disarm the gun. Her vision was blurred with tears as she managed to flick the safety on and toss it away behind her.
Turning back towards Olivia, she grabbed the other woman's trembling frame and pulled her close to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her as tightly as she could, choking over the relief that she was safe and unharmed.
"It's okay." She whispered in a trembling tone, stroking her hand over Olivia's chopped tendrils of hair. "I promise…. Everything will be okay."
Olivia was a collapsed, weak mess beneath her, shuddering and sobbing, and Amanda rocked her gently, whispering assurance after assurance, praying that at least one would make it through the darkened spaces of Olivia's mind.
Minutes passed, each one drawing out painfully long, but Amanda refused to let go, even as she felt Olivia's tears soaking the front of her shirt. She stayed huddled over her, kissing the top of her head and murmuring softly until Olivia's cries quieted.
Finally, when silence fell and Amanda's hands ceased to shake with fear, the anger emerged once more- the burning rage at Lewis for pushing her to this edge. Her hands trembled anew against Olivia's soft flesh and hair, aching to have his already broken body beneath the fires of her own scorn. She knew it would change nothing, just as she had told Olivia, but just for these moments, she imagined what she could do to him if she could.
This was one out of the a hundred wrongs she'd seen in the world, but none other had ever shaken her so. Deep down in her soul, she loathed William Lewis as much as she loathed her own attacker, if not more so. No, this wasn't just another rape. This wasn't just another woman broken by the violence of men more twisted than she could imagine. This wasn't just any crime.
No, this was personal.