TW: Brief discussion of self-harm
Weep for yourself my man, you'll never be what is in your heart
"There's always another victim" Olivia cries as we're getting ready for work.
She'd gotten really attached to a little girl who was molested by her bus driver, I came home a month ago, during the middle of the case, to see my detective slitting her wrists, almost deep enough to need stitches. I wanted to take her to some kind of facility, but once she calmed down she told me she'd be okay. She wrapped her wrist while I hid the knives and her gun, still not completely trusting her. My detective has been better since the trial last week. Bastard was convicted on all counts, so her outburst wasn't motivated by a miscarriage of justice, which tended to upset her as much as it did myself.
"Which is why they need your help." I state calmly, placing my hand on her back, sitting next to her on our queen bed.
"How do I help them? Sure I might catch the guy, but that doesn't mean he goes to prison, and even if he does that doesn't undo what's been done to them." She cries.
"Well you're helping the perp's next victim." That's what I always tell myself when I feel like I haven't done anything.
"It's not enough, I- I want to change the stigma, the shame, the culture that perpetuates this."
"Olivia, you're not God. You're doing the best you can, which is a hell of a lot more than most."
"Thank you." She whispers as I wipe her tears from her face and proceed to draw her lips to my own.