Chapter Twenty One:

What have I done?

The words loop through my head again and again as I stand underneath the warm spray of the shower...

What have I done?

…getting louder and louder as I scrub my skin raw.

What have I done?

They echo as I rinse off and step out into the steam-filled bathroom. The air is warm, but I shiver as water droplets race along my arms and down the groove of my spine. I swipe my hand across the fogged up glass of the mirror, clearing enough to see most of my face. I don't recognize what I'm staring at. It doesn't look like me. I don't feel like me. I'm a stranger to myself, trapped in a life and a body that aren't mine, reliving memories that feel more like horrible dreams.

I stare into my own eyes. Even they don't seem like they belong on my face. Maybe Alex was wrong about me. Maybe everyone was wrong about me. Maybe I am turning into my father without even realizing it. It's in my blood, after all. Repeating the cycle. I thought I had snuffed out that particular demon a long time ago, but after what I've done...

I brace my hands against the edge of the counter and let my head fall forward against my chest. Did I rape her? I can't tell. Some moments, I'm convinced I must have. I've never been so rough with her before, and I've never been so angry with her either. But then I think back, and I'm not so sure. She didn't use her safe word. I would have stopped if she had. Does that excuse what I did? Does that make it better? Does the fact that I'm even questioning what happened instead of just admitting that I raped her make it worse?

I stare down into the sink so that I don't have to look at my reflection anymore. The surface of the counter is bare except for a soap dispenser and an empty toothbrush holder. All of my things are at Alex's place. I had to go hunting in the closet for shampoo before I stepped into the shower. This apartment is just as empty as I feel. I hate it here, but I can't go back. She probably doesn't want to be around me, and I'm not sure I can stand to be around her.

Part of me is still angry at her. Angry that she lied to me. Angry that she used me. Angry that she asked me to 'rape' her in the first place. But I'm angrier at myself. Just because she asked didn't mean I had to say yes. And maybe it was stupid to believe that she would never lie to me. Everybody lies, and she's exceptionally good at it. I even understand why she did it. I saw her face at the hospital that night when Linda Cavanaugh screamed at her to get out. I know she blames herself for what happened to Sam. She thinks she's doing the right thing. And maybe she is. I don't trust myself to know what's right anymore.

"Olivia?"

The sound of my name nearly makes me fall over in surprise. I jerk away from the mirror and my eyes flick frantically toward the door. Thank God I locked it. I don't want anyone coming in. Especially not her. And I know it's her. Even if she had knocked instead of speaking, I would have known. No one else has a key to my apartment, and no one else knows that anything is wrong.

"Olivia? Please, come out of there and talk to me."

I can't go out. I won't go out. Half of me is afraid of hurting her again, and the other half is terrified she'll hurt me. "I don't want to talk, Alex. Go away."

"Then you don't have to talk. You just have to listen."

I don't want to listen either, but I can't make her go unless I leave the bathroom. That isn't something I'm willing to risk. My legs are shaking beneath me, so I slump down onto the floor, bracing my back against the door. It opens inward. Even if the lock fails, she won't be able to get in with my weight pushing it shut. I pull my knees up to my chest and bury my face in my arms. I feel like I should cry, but I don't have any tears.

"Olivia, you didn't rape me. I consented to everything that happened."

Her words are hollow. Why should I believe them? She lied to me about her fantasies. She lied to me about the search warrant. She could be lying again. "You didn't say yes," I say, forgetting my promise not to talk to her.

"I didn't need to. People in healthy long term relationships can enter a state of implied consent. You always have my 'yes' until I use my safe word."

Healthy? She actually thinks that what just happened was healthy? And her voice. It's completely, infuriatingly calm. She's laying out her case, trying to win an argument I'm not ready to have. I just want her to feel something. Anything. Anger, pain, fear, guilt… all the things I'm feeling. "Then you're just as fucked up as I am. I hurt you!"

"You didn't hurt me, Liv." I can tell she's trying to soothe me, but every word cuts deeper. "If you don't trust yourself, then trust me when I say that I wanted everything that happened. I was in so much pain, and I needed to forget…"

But I can't forget, and I don't trust her. I swipe at my eyes with my bare arm. They sting terribly, but the tears still won't come. Something is keeping me from crying.

I hear movement behind me, and I imagine Alex dropping to her knees on the other side of the door, resting her forehead against the wood. "I'm sorry, Liv." This time, I hear something in her voice. Sadness, regret. "I was so focused on my pain that I didn't see yours. I was the one who hurt you. I never meant for things to happen this way..."

My teeth clench. She did hurt me, but maybe I deserve it. I can't tell how much of this mess is my fault and how much of it is hers. "You shouldn't have lied," I whisper. I'm not sure if my voice will carry through the door, or even if I want her to hear me. "And you shouldn't have used me. But… what I did… it doesn't matter how much you hurt me. I shouldn't have-"

"You didn't rape me," she says again.

"But I…"

"You did not rape me. Do you really want to argue with me about this?" I turn to protest through the door, but she keeps going. "Article 130.35: A person is guilty of rape in the first degree when he or she engages in sexual intercourse with another person by forcible compulsion, or a person who is incapable of consent by reason of being physically helpless."

Physically helpless. Just hearing the words makes my stomach lurch. I remember the way I held her down, the way she struggled against me as I pushed inside of her.

"You didn't force or compel me, and I'm not incapable of consent. It wasn't rape, and I won't listen to you say that about yourself."

She's right. Logically, I know she's right. But then why do I still feel so lousy? I know I did something wrong. This wasn't like the other times. I trusted her then. I…

I trusted her. And now, I don't. Fucking her wasn't wrong because I 'raped' her, or even because I was angry. It was wrong because my trust in her is so shaken. If I can't trust her to tell me the truth at work, especially when so much is at stake, how can I trust her to tell me the truth during a scene? How can I trust her to tell me the truth now?

"Liv? Olivia, are you okay?"

I uncurl from my tight ball and look up. This time, I recognize my reflection in the mirror. I stare for a minute in silence, then push myself back to my feet. I open my mouth, start to tell her that I'm fine, but I'm sick of lying. At least one of us has to tell the truth here. "No, I'm not okay. Maybe I didn't rape you, but what I did was wrong. All of this is wrong."

"I never should have asked you to do this," she whispers. "I wish you'd never found out."

My anger comes back, but instead of an uncontrollable swell, it's a low, searing burn. It's something I can control. "You still don't get it. That would just be another lie."

She's silent for a long moment. I listen closely, and I can just hear her breathing through the door. "Then how do we fix this?"

I wish I knew the answer. Alex can't just magically make me trust her again. That's something only I have control over. I have two choices: forgive her, or end things before they get worse. Either I trust her despite the lies, or I don't. One or the other. I try to think back, to remember all the things she said and did, but it's all a jumbled, blurry mess. I'm not sure this is a decision I can make by looking at the past.

So I rest my cheek against the door and think. I know why she's here, standing outside my bathroom despite everything that's happened. She's here because she loves me. Even the lies were because she loved me. She hid her fantasies to keep from hurting me. She lied about the warrant so that I wouldn't lose my job along with her. It was wrong, but she didn't do it to hurt me.

I turn the lock and open the door. She's waiting for me just like I pictured, and her eyes are a stinging, angry red behind the lenses of her glasses. I was wrong about her not feeling anything. I want to open my arms and hold her, but there are some things I need to say first.

"I don't care that you're kinky, Alex. I don't care that you made a mistake with Sam. Sometimes, it's impossible not to make mistakes at SVU. But I can't work with you if I don't trust you, and I definitely can't have sex with you, or…" Or love you. But that's not entirely true. I still love her now, despite what she's done. "Or anything else. So unless you can promise me honesty, complete and total honesty, I can't be with you anymore."

Alex's lips twitch up into an uncertain smile. "I'm just glad you're blaming me instead of yourself." When she sees that I'm still waiting for an answer, she reaches out to take my hand in hers. "I promise, Liv. I love you too much to lose you."

. . .

AN1: I think two or three chapters (max) left in this one. Alex has some more groveling to do, Olivia needs to come to terms with what she did wrong as well, and there's one more sex scene + a little more plot.

AN2: Thank you to everyone who has purchased Wolf's Eyes (and my other books) so far! You're amazing. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review on Amazon or Smashwords. It's absolutely the best way to help me in this new career.

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