Author's Comments: Nothing more horrifying than writing half a chapter and watching the entire thing disappear. And apparently the newest version of Word only auto-saves every two hours. If you squint, you can probably see the stains of my tears between the words.
Chapter Fourteen
Elliot left Olivia's apartment wanting to turn around and punch a hole in her door. He had just gotten off the phone after talking to his supervisor, a man, about mundane work-related matters when she lobbed wild accusations about other women at him, without giving him one chance to explain, or even talk to her about what she had thought she heard. He stormed down the hallway to the elevator, so pissed at her that he wasn't sure he wanted to have anything to do with her anymore.
But by the time he got down to the first floor, he had calmed down enough to wonder if something was going on with her. She had imagined people and voices that weren't there while staying in the hospital. Now he got in a cab and rubbed the back of his neck, realizing more and more that something wasn't right. He made a phone call.
"Fin, this is Elliot. . . Yeah, do you know the name of the psychotherapist Olivia saw after Lewis assaulted her?"
After kicking Elliot out, Olivia became obsessed with his betrayal. How could he do this to her—hurt her so bad when she was already at her lowest point? Whenever she thought about it, her eyes stung from the tears that wanted to escape, but couldn't because of her iron grip on them.
The only thing that made Olivia feel better about this day was her time with Noah. Lucy brought him over, and the first thing he did was run up to her and give her a big hug. While Lucy unloaded groceries in the kitchen, Olivia held Noah on her lap in the living room, ignoring the pain and tearing up when his little hands grasped her hair and he said, "Mommy."
She smiled at him, whispering in his ear, "Looks like it's just you and me now, baby. You and me against the world. People will try to hurt us, but we'll always have each other."
His big eyes looked into hers, and she melted into them. Then she watched him play on the floor with his favorite toys, too tired and sore to get down there with him. She lay on her side on the couch for as long as she could, and then Lucy must have sensed her weariness, because she said, "Okay, Noah, time for a nap."
As much as Olivia loved her son, she was relieved when Lucy took him into the other room to nap, even if he did fuss a little. But just as she was about to drop off for a nap of her own, the door knocked. "Shit," she said, squeezing her eyes shut tight.
Lucy was still busy with Noah, so Olivia had to answer the door herself, but she was determined not to let in Elliot, if that's who it was. She buzzed the intercom, saying, "Yes?"
"Olivia? It's Dr. Lindstrom."
Her palms started to sweat, and she struggled to come up with a response. Here was her therapist, in the flesh, but why? Was he in on some conspiracy with her co-workers, or worse—Elliot? And what exactly did he want?
She thought about just turning him away. But if she trusted not one other person in the world, she trusted him. He had never hurt her, never tried to seduce her, never given her one reason not to believe he was a good person. "Dr. Lindstrom," she said shakily over the intercom. "What can I do for you?"
"Can I come up?"
She hesitated, but then said, "Sure."
Grateful that Noah was in the other room asleep, she told Lucy she needed privacy, and went to the door to let Dr. Lindstrom in. He greeted her with a worried smile when she opened the door, and waited for her to lead her inside, without being pushy or impatient. She showed him to the kitchen table and sat across from him. He studied her for a second and then said, "Olivia, I'm so sorry to hear what happened to you. How are you doing?"
She stared down at her hands resting on the table. "Could be better. But I survived, and I'll pull through."
"Okay, so you're recovering physically. What about emotionally and mentally?"
She sighed, looking up at him now. "Dr. Lindstrom, I appreciate your concern, and your visit, I really do. But what brought you here? Did someone contact you?"
He leaned back. "You got me, Liv. I did have a phone call from a concerned friend."
She scooted her chair back and rolled her eyes. "I bet I can guess who that was—"
"But," he said, before she could rampage, "this person said you were experiencing some disturbing symptoms, including something about hallucinations?"
She took a deep breath, trying to decide how much to confide in him. But if anyone could help her, it was him. "Yeah. I did experience something like that in the hospital. But it was only one time. Might have been the painkillers they have me on."
He paused, as if trying to decide whether or not to bring up something else with her. But then he said, "Olivia, you might be aware of this already in your line of work, but sometimes, severe and repeated PTSD can bring on psychotic episodes. It can cause paranoia, auditory and even visual hallucinations. It's rare, but—"
"I'd thought of that. But there haven't been any repeat incidents, and so far it's been the usual symptoms—flashbacks, sadness . . ." She trailed off, staring into space, wondering how things could feel so gloomy.
He tried to get her to make eye contact, but she wasn't in the mood. Maybe she would feel hope again, sometime in the future. Right now life was looking pretty bleak.
"I want you to stay in touch with me, Olivia. And we might consider putting you on some antidepressants if you don't feel better soon, okay?"
She nodded, finally giving him a glance. His face was so kind. But so was Tucker's, at times, and so was Elliot's. It was going to take a lot of time and no violations of any of her boundaries or morals before she could have faith in him, or anyone else, again.