Notes: Olivia's point of view one-shot. Rated M for references and events of self-harm. Please enjoy and tell me your thoughts, I'd love to know what you think. :)

I can't remember the last time I've felt so alone. So cold. The world seems to buzz by in a blur, and I can't focus on anything. I eventually give up on trying to focus on anything and just sit, staring out at the rain as it splatters against the plastic bullet-proof windows of the precinct. Each drop is like a tiny tear, and it reminds me of the millions I have cried in the past.

And yet, the rain seems to calm me as I sit, as if it is washing away any pain I am feeling. I close my eyes, listening to the quiet hush of it as it hits the windows and the sidewalk below. It seems so much clearer to me now, so much more significant. These were the kinds of things I had never really noticed before, and now I was opening up my entire heart to them. Or at least, what was left of it.

"Benson!" My name snaps me out of my dreaming, and the pain suddenly rears up and crashes back onto me like a black tidal wave. Suddenly, I am broken again. Suddenly, I am alone once more. "How are those DD5's coming?"

"Fine!" I reply sharply, with a little more force than I had intended. But it doesn't seem to faze anyone. Not that it would.

I lift my fingers to the keyboard, but I don't type. I suddenly have no energy, and I can't even find the words to type up my report. Tears burn in my eyes and threaten to streak down my cheeks, but I fight them as hard as I can. I can't cry in here, in front of everyone. Not now.

I shoot up from my chair and stalk to the bathroom, my tears tugging at me even more. I know people are looking at me, confused, but I don't care. I go into a stall and slam the door behind me, tears now streaking down my cheeks as I grot my teeth to try to stop them. Eventually, I just let them fall silently, because I knew that was the only thing I could do right now.

"Olivia?" someone called. I swear under my breath as Casey's voice echoes off the tile and reaches my ears. I wipe at my eyes, hoping they don't have streaks under them. "Liv are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Casey," I snap. "Please, just leave me alone."

"Are you sure?" she asks. She comes closer to the door and I swear silently again. "Do you need-"

"No, Casey, just go please!"

My voice is harsh, but I can't help it. I know I have just hurt her, but I am relieved as the door closes behind her as she leaves. I don't want her to see me like this. What I am about to do. I stick my hand into my pocket and pull out my wallet. Inside, there is a sharpened blade. Nothing significant about it, except for its purpose. I take it out and put my wallet back, wincing as the cold blade touches my hand. And yet, the cold is almost revitalizing, as if it is working already.

I bring it to my skin, feeling the goosebumps on my arm raise at the intense chill of the small silver object. I have to do it now, I tell myself. Before I lose confidence. Before it's too late. I inhale deeply and but pressure on the blade as it cuts through my skin and begins to ooze crimson. I gasp in pain, but I keep going until the cut is three or four centimeters. I then put the blade down and watch the crimson fluid drip down my olive skin, almost having some sort of cleansing effect. I can think now. I can breathe.

I put the balde away and got up, opening the door to the stall and walking over to the sink. To my dismay, however, Casey walks in.

"Liv!" she cries, eyeing the blood. "What happened?"

"I accidently scratched myself on the toilet paper roll holder," I tell her, cringing as if I didn't mean to do it. "No big deal. I'll clean it up and it'll be fine."

Casey doesn't look like she believes me for a second, but I don't care. I simply walk over to the sink and turn on the water to cold, and rub some soap on my hands. When she's gone, I run my arm under the freezing water, shivering as the goosebumps raise again. I watch as the blood from my cut mix with the soapy water and drain down to the white porcelin. Then, it stops, and I turn off the water and dry my hands and arm.

As I walk out, I am met by my partner.

"Hey," he smiles. "How are you? Casey said you hurt yourself."

I flinch. What does he mean by that?

"Yeah," I reply hesitantly. "I scratched it by accident."

I start to walk away, but he grabs my wrist and holds it up so he can see it better.

"And what are THESE from?" he asks, pointing to the other marks I've made.

I rip my wrist away and glare at him.

"I told you about where I got those."

I lied to you about where I got those.

"But you didn't tell me the truth."

No, I didn't tell you the truth.

"Says who?"

"Your neighbor. I checked with the people in your building. None of your neighbors have a cat, not that one is going to sctratch you so many times that it scars."

"So I got the person wrong. I got her mixed up with someone else. My mistake."

My mistake was getting myself into this.

"Liv, the mistake you're making is trying to lie to me."

You're right.

"You're wrong. I'm not lying to you, and if you think I am that's your problem."

"I want you to be able to talk to me, Liv."

"Please, Elliot, just leave me alone."

I'm sorry.

I grab my jacket and head to my desk, hoping he won't follow me. But he does. As I sit, I pull my sleeves further over my scarred wrists. I think my new cut had started bleeding again.

"Olivia, please," Elliot pleads. "I want to know what's wrong. You've been so off lately; it's been scaring me."

"I'm just tired, okay?" I snap.

This is true. The first true words I've uttered to him today.

"That's not just it though," he tells me matter-of-factly. "Olivia, listen to me. I want to help you help yourself, but in order for me to do that you have to be willing to help yourself."

"You don't know anything about me, Elliot!" I glare. "You think you do, but you haven't even scratched the surface!"

"Olivia," he says softly, kneeling down and putting a hand on my shoulder comfortingly. Tears again jerk at my eyes, and it's all I can do to keep them away. "Olivia, Liv, please... tell me. I don't know. You're right. So tell me... please."

I open my mouth, but I can't find the words. They've gotten caught in my throat, and it kills me. He is being so kind; he wants to be strong for me. But I don't want him to be strong for me. I want to be strong for myself.

"I'm sorry, Elliot," I sigh, a stray tear running down my cheeks. He wipes it away, and it makes me cry harder. "I can't tell you. It's too much. I... I have to go. I'm sorry."

I jump up and run out the door, and down the stairs. It's too much to bear. I go to my car and get in, but I don't start it. I can't. I put my face in my hands and sob. My chest convulses I am cry so hard, and it just makes me hurt more. By now, the pain that had once been held at bay, is drowning me. I choke on my tears, because it is now harder to breathe. Everything hurts. And the one thing I can do about it sits in my wallet.

But I don't touch it. Though my body yearns for the feel of the blood soaking my skin and freeing me of the mental anguish I feel now, I can't bring myself to do it again. I at least owe it to Elliot to restrain, if even just for a day or so. My tears stain my cheeks and drip down to my shirt, and I can taste their saltyness on my lips. It hurts so much.

I put the key into the ignition when I feel I am ready, and I can already feel Elliot's watchful gaze burning into the back of my skull as I pull out of the parking lot. I'm going home for now, but I'll come back tomorrow, to repeat the never ending cycle that appears to be today. I don't know how much more I can take of this. I really don't. My only hope is that my silent prayers for help will be answered, and I will be delivered from this hellhole.

Perhaps maybe, but certainly not today.

Only one way to stop the pain.

Only one way to bring back the rain.

Only one way to ease the strife.

Only one way to come back to life.

Only one way to clear the fog.

Only one way to clean the smog.

Only one way to stop the aching.

Only one way to keep my spirit from breaking.

Only one way to steer clear of the rocks.

Only one way to stop the pain when it knocks.

Only the way to keep moving on.

Only one way to keep my body strong.

Only one way to keep my fate my own.

Only one way to stop being alone.

Only one way to keep the voices at bay.

Only one way to say "Stay away".

Only one way to know I am still here.

Only one way to drive back the fear.

Only one way to stop the confusion.

Only one way and only one conclusion.

Only one way to say that I'm done.

Only one way to stop having to run.

Only one way to stop making me need.

That one only way is by making me bleed.