Disclaimer: I don't own SVU. And I'm running out of one-liners...
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
SVU Squad Room
January 20, 2006
3:47 PM
I hate guns. I guess most mothers would, but I really, really hate guns. So being in a room with a bunch of people carrying them isn't the most comfortable situation.
I ignore the looks I'm getting from the officers. The ones of pity and understanding, and the 'other' looks. My momma always said that my looks were going to get me into trouble one day. But like she's one to talk…
I shift my crutches again as another person trips on them. I stare at the closed door that Detective Benson got called into right when we walked in… or in my case, hobbled.
She brought me in so I could give my formal statement. I swear, the woman is a pain in the butt! She just won't take no for an answer. But I admire that about her, she reminds me of myself.
I sigh, getting bored with watching everyone run around like chickens with their heads cut off. So I start entertaining myself by counting the ceiling panels. I get to eighty nine before the door opens and Detective Benson walks out with a man.
She walks over to me and reaches out a hand to help me up. "This is my partner, Elliot Stabler. We're going to go into the interview room, and then we'll talk. Okay?" she asks, reverting back to that patronizing voice.
I roll my eyes as I situate the crutches under my arms. "Then do I get a cookie since I've been such a good little girl?" I ask, imitating my daughter's voice.
She laughs, and I see Detective Stabler grin from behind her. She leads me across the room, and guides me to the table. I sit down heavily, hating that it hurts this much just to walk across the room.
Detective Stabler closes the door behind us and leans against the wall while Benson sits down across from me. "Alright, let's start at the beginning. What were you doing out that early in the morning?" Benson asks; traces of the patronizing voice lingering.
I shift in my chair, getting comfortable before I answer. "I have a hard time falling asleep at night. Walking tires me out, helps me sleep." I prop my elbows on the table, resting me chin against my folded hands.
She nods, writing something in the ever-present notebook. "Did you see anything out of the ordinary before he pulled you into the ally?" she questions, not even looking up.
I shake my head, thinking back, trying to remember. "Not really. It's was dark so I couldn't see much. Then all of a sudden I was being bulldozed from the side." I relate, my neck getting stiff from the position I'm in.
This time Detective Stabler is the one to ask the question. "Did he say anything at all?" he asks, crossing his arms and shifting against the wall.
I grin at Benson, who'd looked up at me after finishing writing. "Ah, so your partner does speak. And no, Detective, he never said anything. And I didn't see his face at all, he was wearing a mask."
He nods, coming around the table and pulling out a chair. I yawn, last night's lack of sleep catching up with me. "How'd he break your leg?" Stabler asks as he sits down next to Detective Benson.
I rest my forehead against the table top, shuddering as the mention of my leg sends a jolt of pain down it. "He'd pushed me down, but something distracted him for a moment. He loosened is grip, so I kicked at him. I tried running, but he, uh… found a metal pole. I could hear the bones shatter." I mumble, hating having to relive this.
Detective Benson reaches her hand across the table and brushes it over my hair. "It's okay, take your time, Rosangela." she whispers, running her hand through my unruly mane of hair.
I quickly sit up, pushing her hand away. "I'm just thinking of all the ways I could have overpowered him. I've been taking self-defense classes for years, and when I really need to use them, I pull a blank! What's the use?" I laugh, bordering on hysteric again.
Detective Stabler quickly speaks up. "It's not your fault, Rosangela. You did everything you could." he says, trying to reassure me.
Benson nods her head enthusiastically, agreeing with him. "He's right. And more importantly, you survived." her voice starting to get patronizing again, annoying me to no end.
I laugh, envying their view on surviving. I look down, refusing to look at them, and pick a piece of lint of the #1 Mom shirt that Luke and Karma gave me for Mother's Day last year.
I sigh, thinking about Karma's face when she saw me in the hospital. The fear and sadness in her eyes killed me. I guess she remembered the last time we had been in the hospital more than I thought.
I still don't know what I ever did to deserve her, but whatever it was I'm so glad I did. But I do know that she doesn't deserve a mother like me. It's not fair to her. "Rosangela, are you okay?" Detective Benson's voice brings me back to reality.
I look up, tears brimming in my green eyes, and smile sadly...