Trigger Warnings- for drug induced hallucinations, mental torture, dead body, reference to rape.

Chapter 13

vul·ner·a·bil·i·ty

noun

: the quality or state of being exposed to the possibility of being attacked or harmed, either physically or emotionally

synonyms: susceptibility · weakness · helplessness· defenselessness· exposure· frailty·

powerlessness

Thump thump

Thump thump

Thump thump

Thump thump

Everything was hushed. The only sound Olivia could hear was the pulsation of her heartbeat. She tried to keep her eyes open for as long as possible, fighting the sleepiness. There was no clock near her, so no actual concept of time could be determined. With her arriving to the boat early morning the only gauge would be sunset and sunrise. The swaying of the boat rocked her back and forth.

She had this blank feeling as if she was floating. Just the feeling of oblivion, numb. She had no idea if she was sleeping or not. When she opened her eyes, it was all dark. How long had she been like this? Processing thoughts seemed impossible; her mind distracted and not able to keep her focus on singular thing. She no longer was on a bed, no cuffs around her wrists.

Then a voice started to whisper, fuzzy and unable to understand. The voice started to get louder, clearer. Soon it was evident enough that it was her capture's voice. He spoke.

"You are going to die here."

"You are going to beg to die Olivia, I'll make sure of it."

"It's your fault Olivia. All those people. You could have saved them, but you let them get hurt, you let them die."

"You are mine."

It was everywhere. She closed her eyes and put her hands over her ears. Trying to block out the sound. There was no end to it as it got so loud, she thought her eardrums might burst.

But then it was gone.

When Olivia opened her eyes again, she wasn't expecting to be standing in precinct of the one-six. She sighed in the temporary relief. At a full spin of the place, she had realized that where she was, was the precinct, but it also wasn't. The florescent lights flickered too dimly. The hallways and desks were empty, not one soul was around. There was an eeriness that clung to every surface made everything feel off. This had to be a dream, she must have fallen asleep.

"Hello."

After she said it, she instantly regretted the obvious choice of a bad horror movie opener line. There was no response. Just the humming of the lights above. She walked further into the room then around the bullpen, looking at the desks, trying to take in some sort of clue about her current situation. If for some reason if could explain her being there. Folders and papers laid untidily across her own desk which she picked up. Nothing. The papers all blank, no writing, no text. She let the folder fall back down, the papers spilling about. She went to the next desk, searching and finding the same result. This wasn't real. Where was she? Whatever she was supposed to search for was not here.

She made the decision to move on, try to find a way out. Further down the hall the lights blinked. Olivia hoped that was in some way a signal. Her footsteps echoed in the corridor with each step. The interrogation room window was on her left. Her own voice caught her attention. Looking through the pane she saw the encounter take place, almost as if she was watching it from another point of view. It was the interrogation she had with Lewis after he attacked Alice Parker.

"Yeah? So, where were you?"

"Yeah, thanks for the sympathy."

"The sympathy? What you did to her, you're lucky - I didn't kick your teeth in."

"What I did You should be so lucky someone does that to you."

Olivia remembered the chill that ran up her back when he said that. It was the small break in his normal happy demeanor, a fall in the façade. If she could just push him further, then they could get him. Knowing what she knew now, this only just made him set his sights on her. She questioned now if she hadn't done this, maybe things would have turned out different.

"I want to hear this. I should be so lucky. How? Tell me."

"Oh, sure, sweetheart."

"What do you want to hear?"

"Whatever you've got."

"You mean, like, how disturbing it would be to make a fine, educated, cultured woman like that disrobe? How humiliating it would be? How she might try to cover herself with her hands?"

"Go on."

"You want to hear how I tied her to the bed. Not too tight, so I could watch her struggle. No? Not your thing, huh? Oh, what about if I made her go down on her knees And forced myself inside of her? Or or you want to hear about the pyrotechnics? How I put out my cigarettes on her."

"Yeah."

"Gotcha. How I branded her private parts with keys - and hot hangers."

"Okay."

"You know, I know you're getting off on this, but you know what? I want to know how you got in that apartment."

"Eh, that's by the numbers. Men are from Mars," right, Detective? He wants the logistics, but you-you want the emotion."

"I do."

"Yeah."

"So tell me more."

"You want to hear how she was alone with me all night. A 60-year-old woman. She did things that she never expected to do That she never imagined were possible. With her fingers. With her mouth. Or do you want to hear how, at the beginning, she said she would do anything? I mean, she begged me for her life. And by the morning time, she was begging me to take her out of her misery. Which one do you think I enjoyed more?"

Hearing all this a second time nauseated her. The first time, she needed a shower, some way to get whatever control he had from her. Being in that room when the spoke felt like a violation itself, as if breathing the same air in that closed space was toxic. How this "thing" could say such vile things and boast about it. He mindfucked them all, mind raped them.

This interaction was something that went on repeat in her head. If there was some way, she could alert her past self, tell her, warn her. She had to try. Olivia opened the door, being met with an empty room. The interaction through the mirror just being a memory. She entered the room, walking close by the table, still hearing his words leach into her. She never knew how much danger she was really in. The entire time she thought that the power dynamic was in her control, but she had been prey.

Looking into the two-way glass, the mirror warped and the reflection she met was the same as the beach house. The image of herself battered from the few days under capture by him. The way she looked reminded her of some sort of animal, her eyes wild with anger, with terror. The matted blood-tinged hair, greasy from his unwashed hands. Her clothing that had clung to her, always damp with fear. When she pulled the collar of her shirt, she could see the angry array of burns.

"Not so fearless, are we?" The voice from behind her startled her.

It was him. It was as if he appeared from thin air. He was in the corner of the room watching her, amused. At first, she thought it was just not real, but then he moved the chair in front of him. Immediately Olivia ran to the door. She struggled at the handle, but it wouldn't open. There was no escape. Banging on the door, then on the mirror. Please anyone. He walked slowly towards her. Olivia darted around the table. Though it was just one small piece of furniture it would come as a barrier. He wasn't fast, or attacking, just waiting for what she would do.

She took the chair, holding it from the back of it, then slammed the legs of the chair into the two-way glass. Putting all her energy into it, after a few tries the glass shattered. Olivia didn't wait, climbing over the ledge. The remnants of glass scratched at her legs; her palms gripped the sharp ledge. The was no time. She landed her hands and knees in thump on top of the crystals but instantly took off into a sprint down the hall without even looking behind her.

It took her a few steps to realize that the halls were different. They weren't the same as the ones she entered before.

What the?

The overtones of green and overhead arches gave it away. She wasn't in the precinct; well, she was sort of. Her instincts later being confirmed as she entered the squad room. This was the old 16th. I had been years since it had been shut down due to the flooding. The nostalgia hit, the memories of this room. This had been almost her home for so long. It made her forget what she was running from.

Gosh the place looked smaller than she remembered. She walked by the small lockers with their names written on envelopes, the makeshift coffee area and finally to her old desk. She looked further at the desk directly across from hers.

Elliot.

She went around to it. It looked just like it did. The multiple picture frames filled with pictures of his wife and kids. One particular photo had them all laughing and making funny faces. Olivia smiled. God, the memories that flooded back about this place, about him. She had wished he was there that day. The way she had channeled him, that rage into that metal rod, it scared her. She wasn't sure if that was always in her. That type of pure wraith and she couldn't control it. A lot of her guilt from that event was that she couldn't turn it off. There was no stopping the momentum of the frenzy. She wanted her old partner to be there, to take the iron post from her hands and then just hold her. Look into her eyes and tell her that she could stop, that it was over. But no one was there to stop her, stop her from herself.

He wasn't there though. It was too painful for him to be around her. Even after her captivity, it wasn't enough. She felt abandoned and lost. Was she just being desperate though? She had Brian. He was there. Through the countless nights of nightmares. Some days she would just pretend to sleep, only to lay awake the entire night lost in thought. In recreating alternative situations, in a way of how she could have evaded Lewis in some way. If she hadn't gone home that night. If she had been more cautious when she walked in, or if she fought him harder. It would go on for hours. How did she let this happen? For God's sake, she was supposed to be well trained for these situations. Had she just rested on her laurels.

Something red caught her eye. It lay on the tile floor close to the leg of the desk. Olivia bent down picking up the article. In her fingers held the soft petal of a red rose. It was the only clue that seemed to be out of place. The color so contrasted compared to everything else in its neutral setting. Olivia looked around further, wondering what this meant. As she looked over to the Captain's Office, she saw a light turned on through the blinds.

Cragen's Office. In some ways it was the principal's office, in others a safe haven. There were countless times that she had confessed things in there. Donald Cragen had been her mentor, not just her boss. He listened, guided and taught. It was the closest thing to a father figure that she had. He had never portrayed perfection and shown his flaws, steered others from going down a similar dark path that he'd once taken.

It had been weeks since she had seen him. He left messages on her phone, but she never got back to him. After the trial, after his retirement, it seemed that he finally had his life together. She didn't want to ruin that. She didn't want to burden more people with the Lewis thing. It had been her fault. To make others carry that baggage too, she wouldn't. She didn't want him to view her as a victim, like her mother. She didn't want the prophecy to somehow be true. The one that Lewis had said to her. To walk around and feel as if everyone knew, everyone knew that you had been damaged in some way, as if a puzzle piece was missing from your body. She saw it in his eyes, when he looked at her. So, the safe haven she once saw became more of an interrogation room. She was afraid that he would ask. Ask the questions that would hurt too much. The details of those days. Or worse, dance around it like so many others and just ask the standard fucking question "Are you Ok?" and that would push her further away, away from judgement, away from the gaze. It would earn the response, "I'm fine".

When she opened the door to the captain's office, she no longer was in the precinct. The salty breeze filled her nostrils. She was on a beach, her now bare feet in the sand. When she looked back behind her, the hallway where she was just in was gone and it was replaced with more dunes and stretches of beach, the portal now closed that she had entered.

The wind hit her long hair.

Long hair. Down past her shoulders, before she had cut it. Looking down, she wasn't wearing the clothes she had on. It was replaced by a pale colored dress. It flowed with the wind in little wisps.

What was happening?

She investigated the distance, seeing a house close to the dunes. It was "the beach house". The actual house wasn't this close to the shore, but several miles away. She could tell by its brown paneling, white windows, green doors. The smell of old air and dust filled her memory causing her to back away from the house. No way would she enter. There was nothing in there for her. Nothing that she wanted to find. All that was there were the recollections of the blood-stained floor, the bookcases with titles of novels that she read repeatedly, trying to stay awake, afraid if she fell asleep, she would be gone forever. That house haunted her, it's chips of paint flaking off into patterns on the walls of monsters. The sunset array of curtains casting an uneasy glow to the room. She could swear that the house whispered to her. She could hear his voice in there. She couldn't tell if that was real or not.

No. That house would remain unentered.

The clouds were becoming dark, a storm emerging. The wind picked up, her hair whipping in different directions. What was she supposed to do? Where else could she go?

She looked out into the ocean. Its waves crash along the bank. There in the distance she saw a lighthouse. It's light, shining bright. Olivia had to take her chances. It was the known or the unknown. One place she knew her fate and the other could get her out of here. Since this place had made no sense, this could break the cycle she was in.

Thunder rumbled from the distance, giving her the ultimatum. She had to decide now, knowing the storm was some sort of danger, a timer to make her select her path.

She walked up to the shoreline, entering the water. When her toes hit the cool saltwater, it made the sand texture softer, her feet sinking slightly. She didn't waste any time, moving further into the ocean. The fabric from the dress rising around her, floating in parts. The waves began to crash against her, forcing her backwards and almost off balance. Fighting her way forward, opposing the breaks of water. The sea was getting rougher, as she tried to swim out, her feet no longer touching the bottom of the ocean floor. The waves smacked against her, tossing her body in every direction.

A large surge toppled over her, hurling Olivia around like a ragdoll underwater. She couldn't tell which way was up from all the spinning as she panickily tried to find the surface. When she did, her burning lungs took in a breath, so deprived from the oxygen from the ocean floor.

Olivia tread water, trying to preserve some of her energy, catching her breath from the near drowning she had almost had. With each wave of her arms back and forth it felt as if the water was getting heavier and heavier. Olivia thought it was just her energy depleting, but then the water started to look darker and darker. She went to turn back but the water was now thick as mud, impossible to move in now. She was trapped. Then a huge wave fell over.

Emerging she was seaside no longer. The brown muck that clung to her was a mix of grass and dirt, the same as her surroundings. This place was also familiar to her. Central Park. She was no longer in water; she lay near a few trees and brush on the muddy ground. This fever dream nightmare seemed to be just a never-ending fright. Olivia stood up, not bothering to wipe any mud or dirt off, considering that this was not real. She still wore the same dress as before, just 50 shades of dirt added to it. Olivia was done playing "Alice in Wonderland". She didn't understand why she was there. Every New Yorker knew Central Parker, it was a staple in their lives. Was this someway connected. Yes, this was where Lewis was first caught, but where she was looking, right now she was on the other side.

She walked along the asphalt path, wondering if there would be any signs of what she was doing there. Green leaves beginning to turn colors in the trees, the air almost cool, so she predicted it must be almost fall. She passed by a few benches, nothing standing out too much until she saw and opening into the bushes, plants that looked like they had been trampled over marks in the dirt, drag marks. With a shaky breath, she proceeded to follow the same course.

The manmade trail into the forestry was straightforward with no turns. The dense greenery hiding the path in front of her as well as diminishing the walkway she came from. Soon the stomped-on plants were not the only thing that gave way to the route she was on, it made her stop in her tracks. Olivia bent down, taking a closer look.

Blood.

Drops of blood almost like breadcrumbs leading their way through the forest. Olivia realized that there were no birds chirping, everything seemed so silent, except for her pace in the woods. She was scared about what she would find. As quietly as she could she persevered, dredging through the landscape to find where the drops would lead to.

She passed by a tall oak tree, then saw it. First, she saw the bottoms of the shoes from a distance. She raced up the tiny hill. Laying face up a female body. Gunshots to the head and face, beaten, pants unzipped and pulled down, face bloody almost unrecognizable. Olivia almost wanted to turn her head in disgust. Something didn't seem right. She looked at the deceased, crouching down.

White female, normal build, dark brown hair.

She went down the line of checkboxes.

Black boots, blue jeans, grey T-shirt, black jacket.

When she looked at the woman's face again, it clicked. That was her. Olivia let out a gasp, backing up with her hands, scooting herself away, unable to stand up immediately from the shock of it. She hadn't pictured her death in this fashion. She fell against the ground to get up, to feel the sharp edges of rocks and then something wet against her fingers. Bringing up her right hand she saw the crimson color. Looking down she saw the rock stained with the same color. The bludgeoning object caused a guttural reaction, letting out a cry. The tears streamed down her face, still flaked in dirt.

Olivia had to go, go back to the main road. She got up then started to make her venture back to the main path. When she went to look for the trail. It was gone. She turned around.

All she saw was the wide uneven grin now right in front of her.

"Hey baby. Miss me?" Lewis's voice rung out echoing through the trees.

She couldn't even get out a scream.

A/N- Hello. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. This one was a tough one to write. I wanted it to be weird enough but also be able to understand. Please let me know if I need to clarify anything. Don't worry if dream stuff is not your thing, we are going back into it next chapter. Hallucinations under a B52 shot can happen and I wanted to have a whack at that.