It had been a week and a half since Sophia had been released from the hospital. She'd gone back to her apartment, tried to rebuild a sense of normalcy there, but everything seemed off. The place was too empty, too open, and too quiet. She had drawn the blinds during the day, turned on the radio, or the television just for some noise, but she felt unnerved and cold. More and more bits and pieces of her attack were coming back, hanging with her like a noose, paralyzing, strangling her. She wanted to forget it all, more than anything else in the world, but that wasn't going to be possible.

She'd had to cancel her credit cards, get a new phone, and submit an application for a new driver's license. She had only been found with the dress she was wearing - her purse from that night gone, and the dress now too, for evidence. Everything had been lost, and while she was waiting for news that this evidence was found, she was beginning to think that she'd never get these things back. These, and a lot else.

Her body was healing, but slowly. Even in July, she had taken to wearing long sleeves, though covering up marks wasn't anything new. The scrapes and bruises on her face and torso had faded into nothingness, but the more severe trauma remained. Almost two weeks later and there was still deep bruising around her cracked rib, and her concussion made strenuous activity difficult. These would go away in time, she knew, but the stab wounds were the worst by far. Every time she took a shower, she could count all six of the marks. One on her right forearm and another on her left shoulder, when she had tried to shield herself. A third underneath her breast, another above it, beneath her collarbone. The fifth was beneath her ribs, on the left side of her navel, and the sixth just parallel to it, on the other side. She graced her fingertips over each of them, as if touching them would make them go away. These scars would always be with her, an ugly, horrific reminder.

How could she tell anyone about what had happened to her? She desperately needed to tell someone, someone besides the nurses, or the police. She hadn't yet told her parents, her friends, or even Danny about what had happened, although she'd tried calling and texting him, trying to get him to pick up. There had been no response. The thought of what he would think when she inevitably had to tell him made her feel sick with worry. Could he ever see her the same way? Would he even still want to be with her, especially when she looked like this?

The day she had returned back home the couple who lived next door had come back to the building at the same time, surprising her on the staircase up with her arms full of mail. "Where have you been?" Annie had asked her, her eyes bright and teasing. "You didn't say you were going on vacation -"

"Yeah, we could have gotten your mail for you?" April suggested, and Sophia laughed nervously, tugging her sleeves over the visible bandages on her arm.

"Sorry, it was kind of last minute," She quickly made up an excuse, banishing any thought of telling them the truth before it had even arisen. "I went upstate, to visit my parents." She was quick to turn the conversation back to them, and Annie was eager to chat about an underground indie concert they had just went to. Sophia preferred it that way. She didn't want her neighbors to know what had been done to her, she didn't want them to get involved. School was out for the summer, and there was nothing to do but wait, stewing in stagnancy. Her doctors had told her to rest and take things easy, but there was only so much that reading books or watching daytime soap operas could do. Creating algebra worksheets and brainstorming problems caused painful headaches, forcing her to stop trying to plan ahead for the academic year.

The trip to her bank had been an ordeal, grocery shopping nearly brought a panic attack. The men who had attacked her were still out there, still walking freely. Was she being watched? Could this all happen again? She was afraid to leave her house, afraid to step out on the street, especially when it was dark out. Every shadowy silhouette, every dark alleyway was a reminder. Sophia spent her nights lying awake, alone. Sleep meant returning to the night of the sixteenth all over again, replaying the worst night of her life over and over again in her dreams. And so she waited for any news, waited for Danny to call, waited for anything to break this mounting, overpowering silence.

She was chopping onions and celery for a bolognese sauce when the knock on her door came, startling her so much that her knife slipped, nearly nicking her finger. She exhaled slowly, setting down the knife and slowly approaching the door, peering out the peephole. To her surprise, Sonny Carisi was standing there, accompanied by one of the other detectives she'd seen while in the hospital. His name escaped her, and Sophia slid the chain out of the door guard before unlocking the door.

"Hi, Sophia," Carisi smiled when she opened the door. "We just wanted to check in. You remember Detective Tutuola?"

"Yes, of course," She said. Now it was coming back to her, and she smiled at them, her heart rate beginning to gradually slow. "Please, come - come in. I was just cooking dinner."

"Smells delicious," Detective Tutuola commented, as Sophia took back her place back at the island countertop, continuing to prep the sauce. "Spaghetti bolognese?

"Yeah, you want some?" She asked, sliding the vegetables into the rest of the sauce on a frying pan. "There's going to be leftovers."

"Might take you up on that," Sonny said, leaning against the side of the kitchen island as Tutuola took a seat at the one of the barstools opposite her. "How have you been doing?"

"I'm okay," She said, looking away from him as she began to stir up the sauce. "Been feeling better."

"You look better," Sonny said. "Glad to hear it."

"We wanted to see if there's anything further you remembered about the night of your attack," Tutuola added, shooting Carisi a glance. "Sometimes more information comes back over time."

"I already gave a statement at the hospital," Sophia frowned, feeling a knot form in her stomach. She wanted to talk to Danny before she said anything more to the police. Both detectives nodded, and thankfully didn't question this.

"We've found some new information about the case," Tutuola said, reaching for his phone. He flicked through it a few times and pulled up a grainy video, which he turned towards Sophia. She twisted around to look at it, still stirring as the sauce simmered in the pan. "This is traffic cam footage outside of Moretti's restaurant. Here's you leaving, at around twelve am." He paused the video as a man stepped out of the restaurant doors after her. "Can you ID this guy?"

"Oh, that's Danny," Sophia furrowed her brow. "Um, my boyfriend, Daniel Rizzi."

"He was at the party with you?" Tutuola asked, and Sophia nodded. Carisi stiffened, taking a step back as she moved towards him, reaching back across the countertop and placing the dirtied knife in the sink. She didn't meet his gaze.

"I guess so."

"Do you remember the party at all?" Carisi asked. "Or leaving with him?" Sophia swallowed, setting the sauce aside on an unused burner. She was sweating a bit; the kitchen felt a bit too warm.

"Kind of, not really," She struggled to think. Before was like recalling against a murky, dark cloud. It was during where things were coming back, where her nights had become a nightmare, reliving it all. "I kind of remember saying goodbye to Danny, getting into the cab. Everything else is kinda hazy. I think… it's the concussion. They said I got hit in the head pretty hard. I'm sorry, I can't really remember."

"It's alright," Sonny told her. "Do you remember anything about the cab driver? What he looked like?"

She grit her teeth, taking out noodles from the cupboard and gripping the door for stability. Her knees felt weak, like they couldn't hold her up properly. "Um, white, maybe? I never saw his face, at least, I don't remember seeing his face…" Her big pot was sitting on top of the cupboards, which she needed to cook the pasta in. Grasping one hand on the countertop, she balanced on her toes, her fingers just brushing the handles of the pot.

"Let me get that for you," She heard Sonny say, as her vision began to swim. A protest formed at her lips when her knees suddenly gave out and buckled beneath her, and she realized she was about to faint...

Except strong arms caught her around the waist instead, holding her steady from behind. "You alright?" She heard Tutuola ask, heard the scrape of a chair as he got to his feet. She looked up to see Sonny right behind her, and she gripped his arm, bowing her head and trying to recenter herself.

"Hey, take it easy," He said gently. "Have a seat, you're alright." He guided her towards the adjacent living room, and she didn't resist. She let him help her onto the couch and put her feet up. "You been on your feet too long?"

"I think so," She placed her hand on her forehead, feeling a cold sweat. How embarrassing… "I'm okay, I - I think I just overdid it. The concussion…"

"Here, drink some water," Tutuola stood over her, and her tunnel vision rescinded long enough for her to reach for the cool glass. It did feel better, once her head stopped swimming.

"I'm so sorry," Sophia muttered, feeling the perspiration from the glass cool her hands. "It's happened before, I'll be fine."

"It's happened before?" Tutuola asked, concerned. "Do you think you need to see a doctor again?"

"It's okay," She insisted. "It's really fine. I'm feeling better already." She noticed that Sonny had begun to boil water on the stove, taking over exactly where she had left off. She was too tired to offer protest. "Thanks for the water."

"Do you have anyone who checks in on you?" Tutuola asked, and Sophia felt flustered again.

"I - I'm really alright," She excused. "I have my neighbors next door I can call if I need anything."

"What about Danny?" The detective asked, and Sophia stiffened, feeling a knot forming in her stomach. She cast a glance towards Sonny, who paused at the stove, looking her way.

"I, ah, I haven't heard from him," She said quietly.

"For two weeks?"

"I've been trying to contact him!" Sophia said defensively, then quickly collected herself. "He hasn't answered my calls. I don't know where he is..." She felt a lump form in her throat, at the possibility that he could have been hurt by the same people who had done what they did to her. She brushed the thought out of her mind.

"Alright," Tutuola said placatingly. "You have our contact info, right? Call us as soon as you hear from him."

The detectives stayed until Carisi had finished preparing the bolognese, but politely refused when Sophia offered them some to take back with them. Out on the street outside the apartment complex, the stifling midsummer air hit both of the detectives hard, and Carisi loosened his tie.

"Nearly two weeks and the boyfriend hasn't contacted her?" He scoffed. "What a scumbag."

"Maybe he's feeling guilty," Tutuola frowned.

"What, you think that it was Rizzi that did this to her?"

"She says that there were two men," Tutuola said. "It's possible that Rizzi was one of them."

"He could have left the restaurant after Sophia did and met up with the cab driver later," Carisi proposed. "Didn't want to be seen leaving with her if it was premeditated."

"We need to find Rizzi as soon as possible," Fin slowed down. "What he was doing at a Lucchese dinner in the first place, and why he was the last person to see Sophia before the attack."


Sorry if that's not how you make spaghetti bolognese! Please review! Thanks everyone!