Disclaimer: I don't own SVU. If I did Elliot and Olivia would be so much more than 'partners'.

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 17, 2006
5:15 PM

I open my eyes, taking in my reflection in the mirror. The bruises have turned into an ugly yellow-green shade that really doesn't work with my complexion. The scratches have started healing, causing them to itch. I've never been good with the whole hands off thing. I have scars on my arms from scratching at the chicken pox's when I was younger.

I lean heavily against the sink, hoping I'll be able to get back to the bed before my guard nurse comes in to check on me. I turn on the water, attempting to wash my face one-handed. I splash the water on my face, coming close to losing my balance.

I maneuver my way to the toilet, sitting down to take the pressure off my leg. I reach for the brush, tired of being a mess. I run the brush through my hair, thinking back to the argument with Luke.

We've been friend for, like, ever. I still can't believe he'd do something like this, when he knows what happened. He thinks that my parents have a right to know what happened. But they lost any rights to me or my daughter three years ago.

I push myself up, trying to stand up when my leg gives out on me. I barely miss hitting my head on the edge of the sink. It's sad, Rosangela Adessi, the girl who could run a mile in five and a half minutes, and beat up all the boys growing up, can't even stand up on her own.

I can't help but laugh hysterically, briefly flashing back to the ally as I do, wondering what happened to the tough-as-nails girl who won the heart of the most popular guy in school, the girl who had everything not too long ago.

Now she's nothing more than a broken woman, crying her heart out on the hospital bathroom floor. That's how Detective Benson finds me five minutes later, looking worse than I did before.

She helps me up, bearing most of my weight, and guides me back to the bed. I lay down, the tears still falling, finally letting myself mourn. She sits next to me, rubbing me arm, like I would do when I would put Karma to bed.

She just sits there, not saying anything, let me cry. But silence has always driven me insane. "I don't know how to do this. I've never been allowed to be weak. I wasn't allowed to cry." I vent, trying to make her understand.

She nod, still rubbing my arm, letting me finally get this out. "Shh, it's okay. It's okay to cry." she soothes. I nod my head, too, not really knowing why. I wrap my arms around me tighter, rocking my body to a silent rhythm.

I let the rhythm calm me, trying to numb my mind to the pain. Both physical and emotional. "I don't know how to do this without him. I couldn't even be a mother without him." I cry.

I close my eyes, seeing my broken world in shades of blue…