Disclaimer: I don't own SVU, I only think I do...

Broken glass on the ground
Reflecting light from all around
These tiny pieces of my soul
In brilliant colors, greens and gold's
Bleeding life from inside of me
The crimson glass pouring out of me
Passion dying, losing spledor
From purple to blue, losing it's hue
My life in all it's stained glass glory
Nothing more than my tragic story

Mercy General Hospital
January 13, 2006
12:45 pm

I'm blinded by white when I open my eyes. The first thought that goes through my mind is that I've died. Until I hear the familiar sound of a hospital, squeaking wheels, doctor's pages, a woman crying.

I hear a door open, and slowly turn my head toward the sound. A woman walks in, and comes to stand at the side of the bed. We both study each other for a moment, before she breaks the silence. "I'm Detective Olivia Benson. Do you remember what happened?" she asks in the same patronizing voice as the woman on the phone.

I roll my eyes, physically this time, and turn my head so I can look at the ceiling. "If I told you I have amnesia would you leave me alone?" my voice still sounding a little scratchy, but not as bad.

I watch as she tries unsuccessfully to hide a grin at my sarcastic question. She shakes her head as she pull a chair away from the wall and drags it to the side of the bed. She doesn't say anything as she sits down and makes herself comfortable.

I sigh, rolling my eyes again. She seems like she's almost as stubborn as I am. "I take it that's a no. And to answer your question, no, I don't remember much about the attack." my voice sounding a bit stronger.

She nods her head as she pulls out a notebook and pen. "Let's start with your name then. You do remember that, don't you?" she asks looking back at me.

I squint my eyes, trying to remember if my wallet was still in my purse. "My ID was in my purse. Or did you guys not find it?" my voice starting to irritate my throat, causing me to cough.

She reaches over to the side table and hands me a cup of ice chips. "Oh, we found your purse. Everything was in it, except your ID. Any idea why that is?" she asks, patently waiting for me to finish with the chips.

I shrug my shoulders, swallowing the melting ice, before look at her. "I don't know. Maybe the freak who did this to me took it as a souvenir." I hand her the cup to set back down.

She nods, as she settles back into the chair. "Maybe he did. But you still haven't answered me. What's your name?" she asks again, tapping her pen against the notebook.

I shift in the uncomfortable bed, trying to relieve some of the pressure on my left side. "My name is Rosangela Adessi. Happy?" I glare at her as she continues to tap the pen.

She finally stop, but only because she starts writing down my name. "Rosangela? That's an interesting name. How do you spell it?" she looks up briefly, waiting for the spelling.

I shift on the bed again, this time trying to push the blanket off. "R-O-S-A-N-G-E-L-A. It's Italian." my voice sounding distant as I reveal that fact.

She stands up and pulls the blanket down, resulting in a glare from me. "It's pretty. Do you have any family or friends we can call for you?" she questions, choosing to ignore my glare.

I turn my head to face the opposite wall, torn between laughing and crying. "No, there no family. But there is a friend who needs to be called. His name is Luke Traiylor. T-R-A-I-Y-L-O-R."

She writes down the name, and then looks down at me, noticing my red eyes. And, thankfully, thinks that if from the pain. "I'll get the doctor to up your medicine. And, here, it's a card for Victims Services, call them. My numbers on the back, so if you remember anything at all, you call me. Alright?" she smiles at me then walks out of the room.

I look at the card she handed me and smirk as I crumple it and toss it across the room. I groan as a nurse walks in and wordlessly ups my morphine. I feel my eyes getting heavy.

This time when I pass out, all I see is white...