Today is Friday, and I'm back at school for the first time in a week. Today also marks a week since that night when I tried to take my life. I usually arrive at school early to visit with my so-called "friends," (that's what I will call them from now on) but today I got here five minutes before my first class, American History. My friend Raven, whom I share first period with, badgers me with questions when I sit down at my desk.

"Where the hell have you been? What happened? Why didn't you sit with us this morning?" I don't feel like answering her. Thankfully, I have a sweatshirt on so she isn't able to see my arm. Before she can ask why I'm ignoring her, our teacher walks in and class begins.

Later at lunch, I grab a tray and see my so-called "friends" sitting at our usual table. I join them, and once again, the questions start.

"Seriously, just stop!" I snap. I can't handle this.

"When did you turn into such a bitch?" My friend Morgan asks.

I get up and leave, throwing my untouched food in the trash. I head towards the bathroom and find that it's empty. I sit down inside a stall and bang a fist against the wall. I grit my teeth as the pain from my first runs down my arm, and into my wound. In that moment I can only feel the physical pain and nothing else. It's been a week since I've cut. It's been a struggle, and now the urge is almost unbearable. I want nothing else but to just tear my flesh. But I think of Olivia. She wouldn't want me to cut. I cry thinking about her, and I decide to call her.

"Benson." She says. I smile through my tears.

"Olivia, it's Skylar." I say, my voice breaking.

"Hi, Skylar. Are you ok? You sound upset."

"Um, I am. It's just… I, I'm in the bathroom and I had a really strong urge to cut. But I knew you wouldn't want me to, and you said to call you whenever I needed something or to just chat, so, I don't know." I now feel embarrassed that I called. She's probably busy with work. "Maybe I should go…"

"Skylar, why do you say that? I'm glad you called. It's much healthier to talk to someone than to cut and I'm proud of you."

"You are?"

"Of course I am. I've got to go since I'm at work, but tonight I'll check in with you, alright?"

"Ok, that sounds good. And Olivia?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think we could get together again sometime, like yesterday?"

"I'd like that. I'll let you know when I'm free and we'll do something, ok?"

"Ok, bye Olivia." I smile, knowing that she will follow through with her word.

"Bye, Skylar." I hang up and smile to myself. The feeling of wanting to cut is still there, but this time it's not as strong.

It's the end of the day and I have an appointment at the hospital to get my stitches removed. Laura isn't able to take me since she is busy with clients, so instead I take a cab. I tip the man and head inside the hospital, signing myself in. Doctor Henson, the one who did the stitches and who came in to check on me during my hospital stay calls me back.

"How are you feeling, Skylar?" He asks with a friendly smile.

"I'm much better than last Friday, thank you." He leads me into a room and I sit down on the exam table.

"This shouldn't take long, and you will feel a bit of tugging, but it's not supposed to hurt." He explains as he puts on a pair of gloves. We make small conversation as he removes each stitch and the process is painless. After giving me a tube of antiseptic ointment, I leave the hospital and Laura is able to pick me up.

"Any luck with a family?" I ask after buckling.

"Not yet, but don't lose hope." She smiles. I look out the window as we drive down the street, seeing a couple of families. Will I ever have that again?

Olivia's POV

"It seems like you enjoy spending time with Skylar." Elliot tells me after I hang up the phone after speaking with Skylar.

"I do. She's a great girl. Is there something wrong with that?"

"No, it just isn't like you to become friends with the victims we work with."

"Skylar needs a mother figure in her life, Elliot. I want to be there for her and to be that. I care about Skylar. I care about every victim, but Skylar's different. I could see myself taking care of her, and I know she needs a place to stay."

"Really? Are you going to ask her social worker about it?"

"I may. You know I've always wanted to be a mother." This is true. I never imagined myself jumping right into adopting a teenager, though, but I think I could do it.

That afternoon after I'm home from work, I find Laura's business card and call her. "Laura Stevens."

"Laura, this is Olivia Benson, the detective who worked Skylar's case."

"Of course, how may I help you?"

"Well, this past week I've spent some time getting to know Skylar and being around her, and I know that she's needing a place to stay. I'm curious as to what I would need to do if I was interested in adoption?"

"A number of things. There will be a homestudy where you are interviewed by a social worker, which would be me. That takes a couple of weeks. You would also need to attend classes and training. The adoption process can be a lengthy one. And Skylar is a teenager, so it'll be different than adopting a newborn, a toddler, or a young child."

"I understand that. Let me do a bit of research and I'll give you a call back when and if I decide to proceed forward with this. Thank you, Laura."

"You're welcome. Bye-bye."

I get online and spend an hour and a half reading up on adoption. Do I have what it takes? Am I patient, loving, responsible, and do I want to make a permanent decision like that? I feel I'm rushing into this, but it doesn't hurt to find out about it, right? I call Skylar up and we chat for 45 minutes before hanging up. I'm not going to make any major decisions about adoption right now. I will continue to spend time with Skylar and to be there for her, and if it's meant for me to adopt her, then surely God will let me know.