AN: So... I woke up around 2:30 this morning, and for the life of me I could NOT get back to sleep. Instead my brain kept happily going over this story, and my muse was all hyper going "this should go here" and "that would really be exciting!" Which means I know where this story wants to go, I just need to get it there. The joys of being unemployed mean I have lots of time to work on this, so that's a plus for you.
All I ask in return is your lovely words of encouragement and constructive criticisms!
*
"He's used to coming out smelling like a bed of roses," Olivia said. Holden's completely dismissive attitude towards his own daughter rankled her. That part she could identify with, hadn't her own mother blamed Olivia for everything? Bad seed from a bad egg.
So people had seen Sara's behavior as evidence she wasn't trustworthy, rather than proof positive of her claims.
Elliot rolled up his shirt sleeves as they went back to their desks. "Well you can hardly blame him. Whatever he's been doing has been working for him."
"He's guilty," she argued.
Elliot had begun to sit down, but stopped short with his hands planted on his desk. "Liv," he waited until she turned to him. "You don't have to convince me, you know that."
Olivia slid down into her own chair, pulling up the form she needed. After a few moments she looked across at Elliot. "I know. I just hate to think this guy might get off because he can talk the talk."
"Then we prove his excuses are a load of bull."
When the sun had reached a reasonable height in the sky, they brought Sara over to the precinct for her interview. Her injuries didn't warrant a longer stay, and it was clear when they arrived that she was ready to leave the sterile environment. The girl was wearing an oversized sweatshirt, hands tucked into the opposite sleeves.
"Sleep ok?" Olivia asked when they were settled in the sedan. Elliot was once again behind the wheel.
Sara grunted a noncommittal reply, but Olivia could already tell that she hadn't slept at all. She watched through the rearview mirror. Sara stared blankly out the window, her long brown hair spilling over the gray sweatshirt, giving it some color. Her skin was pale, and Olivia guessed that she burned easily.
When they neared the interview room, Elliot turned to Sara with a warm smile. "Want something to drink?"
"Water, please," she replied quietly.
He walked off to get it, and Olivia opened the door for her. "Go ahead and sit down."
The girl sat down at the far corner, tucked safely against two walls. Elliot placed her drink and then walked back out. Neither had discussed it, but he had clearly gauged from the ride over that she'd be more comfortable without him. Even with just the two of them in the room, Sara had one foot propped against the edge of the chair, resting her chin upon her knee.
Olivia respected her space, not sitting directly across from Sara to give her a little more room. She gave a knowing smile, careful not to lean forward too much.
"I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but we need to know exactly what happened so we can help you."
Sara nodded. She chewed her lip. "So where do I start?"
"How about what you were doing before it happened?"
"Um, in my room reading."
Olivia showed interest, hoping the exchange would help relax Sara. "You read a lot?"
"Yeah. I don't watch much TV."
"What kind of books do you like?"
Sara smiled, and the act lifted Olivia's spirits. "Sci-fi. I like aliens and ships and stuff."
"Yeah, they're pretty cool aren't they?" But they couldn't talk about hobbies all day, so Olivia shifted the focus back. "So you were reading. What happened next, honey?"
The smile faded just as quickly as it had come. Tears started forming in the girl's eyes, and she stared at some random brick behind Olivia's head until they were pushed back. "Dad called me."
"Do you remember what he said?" Olivia kept her expression schooled, feeling Sara's distress hit her like a tidal wave. And she realized, in less than twelve hours, this girl had gotten to her.
"He said," Sara paused for a moment, struggling to continue. "He said, 'Get out here, now.' And I did, he doesn't like it if I'm slow."
"It's ok, Sara. You're doing really good, ok? What happened then?"
She noticed Sara's gaze go blank, and she hugged herself even tighter. "We went to his room. That's where he always does it. We both undress and he gives me a look until I get on the bed. He doesn't like it if I talk, so I just lay there and close my eyes..."
"Sara," Olivia interrupted the emotionless dialogue, "did he wear a condom?"
It seemed to take her a few moments to realize that she had been asked a question, and then understand what it meant. "Yeah, he always does. Says he doesn't need another ungrateful brat around."
"Does he always rough you up like that?" Olivia remembered all the bruises that were now hidden by the oversized clothes.
"He didn't used to. As long as I was quiet he'd leave me alone. Then he started grabbing me really hard, and when I ask him to stop he just squeezes harder. I don't know what I'm doing wrong."
"Absolutely none of this is your fault. Nothing you have done or could ever possibly do would give him the right to abuse you." Olivia couldn't help some of her anger at his actions from coloring her voice.
Sara's hands were stuffed in the opposite sleeves throughout the whole interview. Olivia happened to glance down, seeing the red spot starting to bloom on the gray material. Her expression was still blank, apparently unaware of her own actions.
"Sara?" Olivia couldn't keep all the concern from her voice. Eventually she blinked, looking at Olivia. "What are you doing?"
The girl's brows knitted in confusion. It wasn't until she followed Olivia's gaze down to her arm that realization dawned. She immediately pulled her hand away, shocked at the blood she saw on her fingers. Sara panicked.
"Oh my God! I didn't mean to, I'm sorry." The words came out on the same breath, a near unintelligible jumble.
Olivia was already on the other side of the table, sitting right next to her. "Calm down, honey. It's ok."
Tears flowed as if she were confessing to breaking an antique vase. "I ruined the shirt."
"Don't worry about the shirt, ok? It's not important, you are. Now I'm going to take a look and make sure you're all right."
Olivia rolled back the sleeve, revealing the bandage underneath. Blood stained the edge and ran down Sara's forearm. There wasn't that much blood, for which Olivia was grateful. When she peeled back the bandage for a look, she saw that Sara had reopened a couple of the smaller cuts that hadn't been sutured. Nothing serious, and nothing she'd have to take the girl back to the hospital for. Something she knew would only make her feel worse.
Olivia forced herself to smile. "Not so bad, see? It's already stopped bleeding. Let's get this cleaned up and I'll help you put on a new bandage, ok?"
Sara wiped her face with the other sleeve and nodded her assent. Olivia helped her roll back down the sleeves, knowing that Sara was already mortified without having to walk through the precinct for all to see. Her arms wrapped around her chest, covering up the stain.