A/N: I hope the time jumps in this aren't too confusing, and I'm sorry for yet another short chapter. Hope you still like it though, as much as you can like a chapter like this. TW for SA.
…
CHAPTER 11
It hurts, a lot, to breathe.
At first, that's the only thing she's capable of noticing when she comes to. It really, really, hurts to breathe. Every single inhale sending a sudden jolt of pain through her back, making her gasp, making the jolt feel more like a stabbing, making her feel like she might pass out, again.
Next, when she's lucid enough to fully open her eyes, it hits her that she can't see. The room pitch black. And it's weird, because she's ninety nine percent sure that there was a window in the room where he took her. Ok, maybe more like eighty five percent, because right now she really can't remember much, other than being dragged away from her cell.
So she waits. Waits for her eyes to adjust, for her brain to catch up, hoping that she might be able to make sense of where she is and if there's any possibility of escaping. But as the seconds drag on, nothing happens. The room remains dark, and she, remains confused.
Then.
The thing that forces her to stop breathing entirely; The restraints.
Arms and legs. Spread eagle on what is definitely not the floor, but something that feels more like a hard mattress. Tight rope pulled around her wrists and her ankles.
Yeah, she's not breathing at all anymore.
Instead, she pulls. Twisting and turning in a futile attempt at freeing herself, which only results in the rope chafing and burning her skin.
So she does the next best thing. Or, the one thing she can think of, the one thing she's left with; She screams.
She screams for help, for anyone to come find her, to get her out of whatever hell this is. She screams for Nick. She screams until her bruised ribs won't allow her to scream anymore. Until she just lays there, panting, her mind going momentarily blank as she finds herself overwhelmed with horror.
But worse than all of this; the pain that shoots through her system with every pull and every breath, and worse than the fear that builds and builds until it threatens to suffocate her. Worse than that, is knowing that she broke her promise. All of them.
She promised.
And yet, somehow, she still fucked up.
She promised Olivia that she would be careful, she promised Cragen that she knew what she was doing. She promised Huang that she was mentally strong enough to do this, to control her temper and her need to intervene. She promised Nick that she would let him protect her if needed. She promised Christine's mother that they would get justice for her daughter. She convinced herself that she could do this. That she was capable and competent, and ready.
And now, lying here alone, her fate unknown, it's a crushing, devastating realization that she failed them all. And, that she has only herself to blame.
…
"Get off her!" Amanda yelled, pulling at Pike's arm, trying desperately to yank him from MJ as the two of them moved towards the door. "She didn't do anything."
"That's not how this works." He grinned over his shoulder.
Ignoring him, and whatever the hell he meant by that, she yanked at the guard again, harder this time. Enough for him to lose some of his balance.
She should've seen it coming. That was her first mistake. But by then there was so much happening all at once, so much adrenaline pumping through her veins, that when his elbow met her face, she was simply not prepared.
Her second mistake? Punching him back, just barely missing the top of MJ's head as her fist knocked against his chin.
"Fucking bitch-" He growled, mindlessly throwing MJ aside like a rag doll, her petite body lunged towards the wall where she sagged down until she sat lifeless on the floor.
And that was her third mistake. Because while her worried eyes were on MJ, and the blood now running from the young girl's nose, his eyes were on her.
It couldn't have been more than a second, maybe two, but one moment she was standing there in the middle of the room, out of breath, looking at her unconscious cell mate, and the next, he was cuffing her wrists, dragging her away.
Her instincts kicked in fully then, and she kicked, yelled, used all of her strength to free herself from his arms, but he was just so much stronger, larger, than her.
There was a glimmer of hope when she saw a familiar face rounding the corner. Eric, she realized. He wasn't like Pike, he was calmer, he was kinder. Well, as kind as a place like this will allow.
"Let me go-" She said, once again attempting to free herself, once again finding it pointless, her only hope being that Eric would notice and intervene.
But she quickly realized that he wasn't coming to save her. Because instead of helping, he gave a nod of approval in Pike's direction.
A subtle nod of approval, and then, a smile.
"Need assistance?" He asked, and she felt it then, a wave of nausea, as she catched the tone in his voice; Callous, taunting. As if this was a routine. Something they had planned.
"Just going for a little walk with blondie." Pike said, and even though she couldn't see his face, she could hear him grinning. "You know where to find her."
This was a trap, her mind told her. They've been watching me. They knew I would want to protect MJ. They wanted me to act out, to give them a reason. This was a fucking trap and I walked right into it.
Nick, where the hell are you?
…
She knows that panicking won't help her, that in order to think clearly, she needs to control her breathing and slow down her heart rate.
But it's been minutes now, maybe even an hour, it's impossible to tell, and by every second, she finds it harder and harder to collect her thoughts.
When she keeps her eyes open, the room seems filled with shadows, moving around her, hovering over her, swaying towards her before disappearing into nothing. But when she closes them, attempting to shut it all out, she finds herself not here, but in a motel room.
Wrists pinned, all though not by rope. The room not dark, but rather painted in a reddish light from the curtains and the matching lampshades. She smells, hears and feels him, but she refuses to look at him, refusing to allow his face in this moment to be etched on her brain for the rest of her life.
This isn't happening, she tells herself, willing herself away. But with every breath, every push of his hips, she is reminded again and again, that she is here. That this, is very much real.
So she decides to focus on the music coming from the other room. She knows she recognizes the tune, the lyrics, so she concentrates on that, knowing very well that this song, just like a piece of her soul, will be ruined forever.
When he's finally finished, when it's finally over, he slumps down, collapsing on top of her. And she lays still, holding her breath, waiting for him to fall asleep.
When he does, she will roll out from underneath him without making a sound. She will collect her clothes in silence before moving towards the bathroom. There, she will vomit, cry and rinse and repeat, until her stomach is empty and there are no more tears to shed. She will be tempted to take a shower, but essentially decide against it, because what if he wakes up, and wants more.
She will get dressed, and when she passes him and his still unconscious body on her way out, her eyes will glance over at his service weapon on the bedside table. She will pause to look at it, wonder how it would feel to close her hands around it, point it at his head.
And pull the trigger.
Her heart will stop then, as she contemplates the unthinkable.
Would it be worth it? Possibly going to jail for killing the man who just took something from her that she will never get back?
Yeah, she figures, her eyes still locked on the gun. It would.
There's a sense of irony to it, she realizes. She did this to save her sister, so that Kim wouldn't face time in prison. And now here she is, about to do something that will surely put her behind bars for much longer than the felony charges she came here to take care of.
She could tell the cops that he raped her. That he was violent with her. She has the bruises and the cuts and the bite marks to prove it. She knows that the rape kit would leave no doubt as to what happened here tonight.
But she has no interest in being painted as a victim. Not when she walked into this room willingly.
And now, the only thing on her mind, is revenge.
So, she moves slowly, her body surprisingly calm as she makes the decision to end a man's life.
But just as she's about to lift the gun up, her eyes, for some reason, shift to the muted television, where the news is covering a press conference.
She doesn't recognize the man speaking, but she does, however, recognize the woman standing a few feet behind him. At first, she's not sure where to place the brunette, but when the man speaks her name, her brain makes the connection.
"I want to take a moment to acknowledge the time and effort that went into this investigation, which made the arrest possible. Special thanks to detective Benson and detective Stabler for their tireless work, and for their dedication, so that these victims and their families can now get justice, and hopefully with time, some peace."
She blinks, and for a moment, for the shortest of moments, it feels like Olivia Benson is looking directly at her. She knows, of course, that it sounds crazy, and maybe she probably is right now. She is, after all, standing here, ready to kill a man. But in that moment, something in those brown eyes tells her to walk away. To leave the gun, leave the room, leave this motel, and not let Deputy Chief Patton ruin her life completely.
In the end, that's what she does. Amanda walks away.
…
Back in the darkness, in this undefined room, she gasps for air when the memory fades.
She's not in that motel room anymore, and this isn't Patton.
But it hits her then, as hard as Pike's elbow struck her cheekbone, that maybe there is absolutely no solace in that.
Maybe, she thinks, as a chill runs through her body and her muscles go rigid against the mattress, this is so much worse.
And again, she wants to cry for being so stupid. For breaking her promise to Olivia. For being so hellbent on going through with this, without realizing how unprepared she truly was.
If only she had listened to Nick.
…
"What are you doing here?" She asked in a hushed tone. The laundry room, where Amanda was busy folding a pile of washed sheets and towels, was empty for now. But if she had learned one thing after nearly two weeks in this hellhole, it was that you were never truly alone here, not really.
"I need to talk to you." Nick responded, not giving her much of a choice but to follow him when he pulled her towards one of the smaller storage rooms, dragging her inside before closing the door.
"Did something happen?" She asked impatiently, confused.
"I think Cragen is right." He said, watching as a frown appeared on her face. "I think it's time for us to pull out."
"We still have time, I'm still working to get MJ to talk-"
"I think you're in trouble."
"What are you talking about?"
"Pike-" He continued. "He said something-"
Whatever Nick was about to say next, remained a mystery, because in that moment, the door flung open.
"Well, well, well-" Ellie said, her eyes moving from Amanda to Nick. A smirk took form on her round face, and Amanda quickly realized that her only alternative here was to play along.
Moving past Nick, she made a show of wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, shrugging as she locked eyes with the other woman.
"Only way to get extra visitation with my boyfriend." She lied, hoping she sounded convincing enough.
"Hey-" Ellie said, grabbing some cleaning supplies from one of the shelfs. "We gotta do what we gotta do."
There was no hint of suspicion in her voice, and when Amanda saw how Ellie glared at Nick as he moved out of the room, she knew that they were in the clear.
Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, she returned to her folding station, casting a glance towards her colleague who was now walking away. But before he left them alone, Nick turned to look at her.
"If you want to see that boyfriend on Saturday, you'll meet me back here tomorrow morning."
"Jesus-" Ellie muttered, rolling her eyes.
"Yes, sir." Amanda nodded, adding some faux disgust to the tone in her voice.
But when morning came, she was busy being cuffed and dragged down an empty corridor, and Nick would never get the chance to warn her about Pike and Eric and what he had overheard in the locker room the day before.
…
Someone will come, she thinks. She's been down here, wherever here is, for… How long has it been?
Nick must've noticed by now, and he must've told someone. And she is still in some kind of solitary confinement, it can't be that hard to find her.
Nick knows that something is wrong, and he will tell the warden, and-
She takes a breath, wishing her hands were free, if only to wipe away the tears now running down on the side of her face.
Someone will come.
And that's when she hears it.
A step. And then another.
A slow exhale. A deep inhale. Again, and again.
Someone is already here.