Her lungs were aching, her legs begging for relief, but the pounding of her feet against the cement sidewalk was the only sound she could live with at the moment. She could focus on each slap of her tennis shoe while shoving the image of Lewis's face and the sound of his laughter from her mind, and pretend that what she had just done wouldn't haunt her forever.
After leaving Bellevue, she'd ridden the subway home, staring blankly out the window. With her arms wrapped tightly around her waist, she'd quelled the nausea, but she hadn't been able to halt the constant replay in her head of her time in Lewis's room.
She'd watched him struggle to breathe, and callously relished every single second in which he suffered. Beyond the walls of the hospital, however, she'd hardly dared to glimpse at the flashes of her reflection in the train's window.
She didn't recognize herself. How could she when she'd lived through the aftermath of shooting a man only to play with death a second time? Despite the way she'd felt about Jeff, killing someone always effects a person, just as she had learned in the academy. Maybe, she'd wanted to be an exception for some fucked up reason. Maybe, she had still wanted to be, standing over Lewis's body, threatening to end what miserable existence he still held on to.
But as the miles of railway passed beneath her listless body, all she could think of was Olivia's guilt, her utter disgust at nearly taking a man's life. What would she ever tell her of this night? Olivia's violence had been justified, but what justice was there in torturing his helpless, broken body? No, she wasn't as righteous a person as her gentle Liv. No, she wasn't even sure this feeling was guilt.
Now, she was beyond the calm of cigarettes or a drink or any other vice which would diminish these memories. Instead, she ran. She ran because she knew it would eventually hurt. There was no pleasure in the physical exertion, and soon the pain would distract from this indiscernible feeling crawling beneath her flesh.
She ran, folding into herself, until she sank into a hyper fixated state. The world blurred around her as she focused on the sidewalk in front of her, the jarring of her joints each time her foot hit the ground.
She'd pushed back the initial wave of exhaustion some time ago, and she'd lost count of how many times she'd completed the loop of her route. Each time her body wanted to stop, she ducked her head and pushed on, ignoring every signal screaming across her nerves for her to stop.
It felt like hours before she finally stumbled to a halt on the sidewalk at the corner of Central Park, her legs trembling and threatening to give way from beneath her. Bent over, grasping her knees, she panted heavily, nearly sick with extertion. Staring down at the sidewalk, she tried to slow her raspy breathing and the pounding of her heart, but her lungs burned incessantly, and she finally dropped to the grass, groaning as her leg began to cramp. She stretched it out in front of her, and grabbed at the toe of her shoe. Resting her forehead on her knee, she closed her eyes, listening to the rushing of blood finally slow in her ears, and prayed she'd banned the restless disturbia from her body.
Behind the blackness of her lids, however, Lewis's dark eyes gazed back her at her, glazed over with morphine and mania.
It felt as if being next to him had worked some kind of sickness into her veins, as though his demented glee were an infection. She'd lost herself in a matter of minutes. She could hardly imagine spending four days with him beneath his deranged spell, and the brief thought of it was enough to drive a second wave of panic through her chest.
She'd tried to imagine what Olivia had gone through, perhaps more than she'd ever done for anyone, but knowing facts and details was a sparse comparison to the experience of being alone and vulnerable next to him. Now, she couldn't shake the sickening sensations gripping her in full body shivers. Her skin prickled at every memory and the after effects of her overexertion only exacerbated the severe physical reaction.
Feeling a tear slip from her eye to her nose, she quickly lifted her head, and dashed it away with the back of her hand, but she could feel the panic rushing towards her like an all consuming wave. Drawing on halting breaths, she stared out at the street and the buildings beyond. She tried to focus on anything but the shock and panic riddling her chest, but in a few harsh moments, the emotion exploded in her chest, bubbling up to her lips in a ragged cry. Grabbing at her quaking lips, she moaned into her palm while her shoulders violently began to shudder.
Her chest was the epicenter of an overwhelming sense of helplessness and fear, erupting outwards with devastating convulsions. The full force of each pent up emotion, from each single day of Lewis's reign of terror, overtook her, reducing her to a mess of sobs and tears and breathless floundering.
A second cry ripped from her lips, hardly dispersing into the night before another took it's place, then another and another until she was screaming at the sky with the final shreds of what strength she still possessed. She screamed until her throat ached, and her body sagged with exhaustion, until she was spent on tears.
Falling back into the grass, she slammed her fists into the ground, squeezing her eyes shut as stray rivulets of moisture slipped from beneath her lids. Whimpers of emotions rode upon her heavy, raspy pants until finally they dwindled into nothing. The quiet fell about her, an unsettling buzz to fill the space where she'd just so desperately and passionately wailed.
The force of it left her numb and wasted on the grass, her body humming with both physical and emotional debilitation. Despite her ardent and impetuous endeavors in the previous hours, staring up at the sky, she could hardly remember a moment as lonely and hopeless as this, save for the night of her own rape. Here in the middle of the sleepless city, surrounded by thousands of people, she felt so very far away.
Reaching out a trembling hand towards the stars, she thought they must be closer than any human, or any hope she could possibly have.
xxxxx
There hadn't been a time when Mercy General's ER waiting room wasn't flooded with waiting patients, but tonight's cramped atmosphere seemed especially pronounced. Olivia had walked through this hospital hundreds of times on her way to interview rape victims, however, her presence here was of little significance now. She felt lost amidst New York's downtrodden residents, with no purpose or reason for being there. She had yet to shake the disquieted feeling in her chest since leaving the subway. If anything, it had only grown.
She ducked through the waiting room, towards the main desk, her heart already hammering in her chest. She wasn't even sure if Erica was here or what the nurse could possibly tell her, but at this point, all she could think about was finding her. Otherwise, she would have crumpled with exhaustion and emotional pain by now.
Biting at her lower lip, she approached the receptionist who was speaking firmly on the phone. Her other hand switched between the keyboard and the mouse on her computer, a frown knitting her brow. Olivia hesitated, hovering at the corner of the desk as she tried to form in her mind what words she would use to explain her interruption of such a busy night. She was uninjured, and she was certain a small case of anxiety was hardly enough to be admitted.
"Hold on a moment, honey." The receptionist spoke to her before she could say a word.
Olivia stuttered over a thank you, but she was already being handed an admittance sheet on a clipboard and a pen. She began to utter a halting protest, but the woman had already turned back towards her computer. Olivia glanced down at the clipboard, scanning over a general list of symptoms along with a section for a short medical history. Her eyes caught on the words sexual assault, and she swallowed hard, her fingers clenching around the edges of the clipboard.
Ignoring the sting of tears in her eyes, she stepped slowly away from the desk. She found a seat in the corner, away from the majority of the patients, and sank to the hard, plastic seat. She gazed down at the admittance sheet again before she uncapped the pen. Poising the pen above the paper with a trembling hand, she considered whether she should abandon the ER altogether, and return to Brian's apartment. This pursuit could be useless, moreover, pointless.
She wasn't pregnant. She hadn't been raped. She had no tangible reason for seeing Erica again, beyond her own irrational fears. Perhaps, Lewis hadn't invaded her body, but he had crawled inside her mind, uninvited.
Ignoring her doubts, she breathed a heavy sigh, and began to fill out the form. She hadn't planned on posing as a patient in order to see Erica, but she had been handed an opportunity which was much more subtle than demanding the nurse's personal time.
When she finished, she returned the clipboard, watching the receptionist's face carefully as she glanced over the chart. She quickly looked away as she reached the section where Olivia had checked the sexual assault box. She didn't deserve the sympathetic gaze that it garnered.
"We'll be right with you, honey." The nurse told her, her tone tired and jaded. "Have a seat."
"Thanks." Olivia managed to reply before escaping the desk.
Slipping back to her seat, she slumped into the chair, clasping her hands over her face as the stinging of tears formed into bursts of salty moisture behind her lids. In some ways, she felt relieved to have made it this far while the rest of her agonized in fear and guilt.
It took her several minutes and dozens of repeated, baseless assurances to herself before she could calm the emotion that wanted to engulf her. She hadn't made it this far only to flee the ER in humiliation over yet another breakdown.
She'd blurred out her surroundings, and when footsteps neared her, she jolted.
"Olivia?" Erica's confused tone drew her gaze upwards.
She slid her hands away from her face, quickly, smearing stray tears down her cheeks as she shifted in the chair. She could hardly meet Erica's eyes as the younger woman sat down next her.
"I didn't expect to see you here." She said, softly. "What happened?"
"N-nothing." Olivia said, shaking her head as she straightened her posture and attempted to gather her composure.
"Did he attack you again?" Erica questioned after a moment's hesitation.
Although her tone was gentle, Olivia flinched, pursing her lips hard again the reaction to cry once more.
"No…" She whispered, before attempting to clear her voice of it's choked tone. "No, I lied...on the sheet. I'm sorry."
"Are you sure?" Erica asked, slowly.
"Yes." Olivia replied in a stronger tone, finally meeting Erica's eyes. "He's in critical condition in Bellevue. He can't hurt me."
A frown slowly formed on Erica's brow, and she reached out to touch Olivia's arm.
"Then why are you here?"
Olivia glanced away once more, her expression twisting in emotion. She pulled her arm away, abruptly, and swiped her hand over her face.
"Do you think-" She began, her voice trembling and breaking. "Do you think he...he raped me?"
"We won't know the results until the kit comes back." Erica said, quietly, her tone apologetic.
"B-but...did you see anything?" Olivia whispered, desperately, her eyes darting back to the nurse's.
"Olivia…" Erica said slowly, shaking her head. "You told me that you couldn't remember everything."
"I can't." Olivia whispered, sharply, her teeth clenched against tears. "That's why I'm asking you."
Erica nodded, hesitating for a moment before she said, "I couldn't conclusively determine that you were raped."
"So that's a no?"
"Your pelvic exam did not present with the typical, visual symptoms." Erica replied, her tone hesitant.
"You don't sound certain." Olivia said, attempting to push the panic out of her tone.
"I cannot say with one hundred percent certainty until the rape kit results comes back…"
"But personally?"
"Olivia," Erica murmured, sympathetically. "All I can tell you is that when I walked into that room and saw you for the first time, I knew something unspeakable had happened to you… But I can't confirm that was sexual assault."
"Erica, I get it, you don't want to be sued, but I'm an NYPD detective. I understand the red tape, what you are and aren't allowed to say to vict-"
She cut off sharply, her rambling pleas falling suddenly into silence. She could feel Erica staring at her as she focused on the floor, the chipping tile and glossy wax on top. The glare of tears smudged her peripheral vision, and she clenched her lips hard against a tremble.
She'd spent the last few days hating the sound of the word.
Victim.
It implied trauma. An experience so horrific that that it never left a person. It implied something had happened to her, and she had tried so hard not to label herself as such.
"I… I'm sorry." She whispered, raspily, standing up suddenly from the chair. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time."
"Olivia, wait." Erica implored, jumping up after her.
"I need to go." Olivia whispered, glancing back at Erica's troubled expression for half a second before she turned back towards the exit.
She'd tried so hard not to be a victim, but she was. Lewis was more than just a perpetrator or even a nemesis, now. He was her rapist.
xxxxxxx
The rattling of her keys were loud in the darkened hall of her apartment building. It was just past 3 am, and Amanda could hardly keep herself upright as she fumbled to unlock the door. Muttering a curse, she finally wrangled the key into the correct position and shouldered the door open.
Stumbling inside, she was immediately greeted by Frannie. Her nails clattered frantically across the hardwood, her panting loud and excited. She pranced at Amanda's feet, but she could hardly find the willpower to reach back and pet the happy animal.
Wandering towards the kitchen, she began to yank off her clothes, leaving the sweat lined pants and top scattered in her path. She opened the fridge door and the light clicked on, spilling out across her hot, clammy flesh. She closed her eyes with a soft sigh as the frigid air swept across her half naked body, a soothing caress to her aching muscles.
Frannie whined next to her, nudging Amanda's fingers with her wet nose.
"It's okay…" Amanda murmured to the dog, absentmindedly, as she opened her eyes.
She wondered if she was speaking more to herself than Frannie, although she felt not an ounce of calm at her own reassurances.
Bending to stare at the sparsely stocked shelves, she gazed, vacantly, for a moment before she grabbed the beer from the half torn open eighteen pack.
She let the door fall shut behind her as she meandered back out to the living room. She sank to the cushions with a sigh as she cracked open the can and took a long sip. Frannie leapt up beside her, settling her chin on Amanda's knee and staring at her with large, expectant eyes.
"Good girl…" Amanda said, softly, petting her silky head as she took another drink.
She hadn't bothered to turn on a light, but the darkness didn't concern her as she sat in silent solitude.
She remembered hating the dark as a child, despite her defiant denial to her mother; but that was many years ago now, and within that time she'd seen what the cover night could hold. Sitting here in the aftermath of her own moral turmoil, she wished again for her childlike fear, for the desire of the sun rather than the comfort of darkness; for now she understood what damning details the light of day would tell.
Lying her head back against the couch, she closed her eyes against the hot burn of another rush for tears. Cradling the beer can to her lips, she washed down the thick knot of fear and confusion resting at the back of her tongue. The first warm bursts of the alcohol were beginning to rush towards her head, she clung to the sensation, wishing that it would last forever.
Frannie was half asleep, and the can was nearly empty when the low buzz of her cell phone rattling against the side table startled her. She'd left the device there for the duration of her run, and had hardly thought to check for missed calls or messages. It was far too late - or too early - for anyone to be contacting her.
With a frown, she grabbed it, and lifted it up in front of her bleary gaze. Squinting against the LED, she froze for half a second at the name displayed on the jangling device.
Next to her, Frannie lifted her head with an inquisitive whine, but this time, Amanda could hardly comfort her. Stumbling up from the couch, she stabbed the answer button several times before the touchscreen was able to catch up to her frantic motions.
"Hello." She breathed, clutching at her forehead as a mix of exhaustion and alcohol made her head spin.
Silence crackled over the line in answer to her rushed salutation. A gnawing sense of trepidation began to eat away at Amanda's stomach, and she paced towards the window, her body subconsciously desperate to respond in some way
"Liv?" She finally demanded, breathless. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"
Another long moment of silence rang against her ear, and she was on the verge of flinging another set of inquiries into the speaker when a low, trembling breath interrupted the white noise.
"Liv, talk to me." She whispered, coming to a frozen standstill in the middle of the living room.
Her fingers quivered around the phone, clenching hard on the device as if the woman on the other side of the line was attached.
She had no evidence that Olivia was in harm's way or suffering from another mental break, but the roiling of her gut was all the incentive she needed to switch into protective mode. Aside from instincts, she knew Olivia wouldn't have called her unless she absolutely had to.
"Okay, okay," She whispered into the phone, trying to find the balance of calm for the both of them. "You don't have to talk. Please, just text me where you are, and I will come to you."
A soft whimper followed her gentle command, and Amanda took it as an affirmative.
"Okay, good, I'm going to hang up, okay?"
She heard another whimper reach her ears, and though she was loathe to end the only connection she had to Olivia in this moment, she forced herself to pull the phone from her ear and end the call.
With her heart racing, she darted from the living room, and slammed through her bedroom door. Ripping open her dresser drawer, she grabbed a pair of jeans. She shoved them on her legs, and snatched a hoodie from the closet, tearing it out so viciously that the hanger spun to the floor.
The exhaustion and languid sorrow she'd experienced earlier were gone now, replaced by a burning sense of urgency. Her veins were on fire with it, eating up her heart in rapid fire bursts, as she ran from the bedroom.
She found her shoes discarded by the door, and she was pushing them onto her feet when she felt her phone buzz in her palm. Pushing stray, flailing strands of hair from her face, she anxiously unlocked her phone. The phone display flashed from black to startling white, showcasing Olivia's location to her hungry gaze.
"Okay…." She whispered, huskily, into the dark, silent apartment. "Hold on, Olivia… I'm coming."