Harlem

March 1st, 1984.

A sixteen year old Olivia Benson slammed the door of her and her mother's apartment building. She pulled her brown leather thrift store coat tight against her thin frame in the cold night air, and squinted through tears as she looked up at the flurry of light snow beginning to fall through the beams of the street lights.

Her cheeks were flush and a fresh scrap burned on the side of her face from the broken bottle her mother hit her with. Her mother's voice rang through her mind.

"How many times do I have to tell you men only want one thing from you? I sacrificed my entire life so that you could do better than me, so that you could have the best education and the best things, and make the best choices. And you are not going to throw all of that away for…for…for a man! A boy! A boy who thinks he's a man!"
"I'm not throwing my life away, Mom. We love each other!," she screamed at her mother.

"He doesn't love you! You're a child. You're easy. And he's taking advantage of you. They all do. They all will! And apparently, you'll let them."

"I didn't let him do anything to me that I didn't want. And he loves me more than you ever did."

"Get out! Get out of my house. You're nothing but a whore!"

The words burned worse than the salty tears on her open cheek wound. She'd never felt so much rage under her chest. Her mother was cold and diabolical, and she couldn't take it anymore. Her fingers felt the coins in her jacket pocket, and she walked to the pay phone near the corner bodega. It was colder than she'd expected it to be. Her teeth chattered as she tried to call Burton. "You've reached Burton. I'm not able to answer the phone, because I'm too busy making sweet love. Leave a message."

Olivia slammed the phone. "Ahhhhhh!," she screamed and kicked a nearby garbage can. The lid of the can crashed to the ground, and she jumped back.

A man's voice from across the street called out to her. "You okay, sweetheart?"

She composed herself, pulled her coat collar up around her neck and ignored him. She couldnt' go back home, so she started for the subway. Burton's stupid answering machine message made her blood boil. A massage she thought sounded so cute, until her mother pointed out that she'd seen him kissing a girl on her campus last week. Burton was one of her students. It's how she met him. She didn't know what to believe he could cheat on her. She didn't want to believe anything Serena said. All that aside, it was hard to feel confident in any human being while standing alone on a dark street in the middle of falling snow with nowhere to go and no one to call.

She had nothing on her but five bucks and an MTA card. This wasn't the first time she'd wrestled with abandonment, though. Nor was it the first time that her mother had kicked her out of the house or made her feel unsafe to the point where she had to leave the house. She knew where to go to stay warm and grab a cheap bite to eat while her mother sobered up. She'd taken the long subway ride, and slept at a friend's house before. It's just that she was so tired of it all. The pattern of fending for herself, crawling back home, and waiting on edge for the next drunken manic episode. Burton had given her a way out, but once again, Serena knew how to mess things up.

The man across the street called out to her again. "You need a place to stay? I gotta room right down the street, baby.."

"I'm fine, thanks. Go away," she weakly yelled at him.

"You sure are fine. Baby, let me help you. What's your name?"

"Damn it," she muttered to herself. The last thing she needed to deal with was a creepy random guy looking for tail.

The man continued to follow her from across the street and she walked faster. She could see the diner lights, but they were on his side of the street, and she hesitated to cross. Instead she ran to subway station and down the steps. There was an attendant still on duty. "Thank god," she whispered to herself. She quickly zipped through the ticket gate and walked over to the attendant.

"Hi, there's a man following me. He's wearing a black baseball cap and a yankees starter jacket. Could you-"

"-I got you. You okay," the man asked, pointing at her face.

She nodded and made a run for the subway car that she could hear approaching.

"Thank you," she said as she glanced over to see her stocker being stopped by the attendant.

The subway car had just pulled in and she jumped on it. She had no care in her mind as to which one it was or where it would take her. She just needed to get as far from Harlem as she could get.

The small crowd of fellow late-night New Yorkers were a comforting blanket to hide in, when she needed them. She sighed heavily in a corner seat, surrounded by a few people with large bags. She imagined they were going on a vacation with a lover or taking a business trip to somewhere warm and sunny. A getaway. She peered at herself in the glass for a long time as her thoughts spiraled.

Flashback

"Are you sure," a young dark-haired Burton said to her with a charming sly smile. "I wouldn't want to pressure you into something you aren't ready for. Your first time is a big deal."

"I'm more than sure," she said with confidence. "I love you."

"Aw, you're so beautiful. So wise beyond your years."

She dropped her purple dress to the floor of his dorm room. He had a dozen or so colorful psychedelic candles, a lava lamp, and a black light from Spencer's gifts all lit up. They swirled and flickered around her, lighting her body and creating shadows on the ceiling. The smell of incense filled the room. It was the only thing she could truly remember as she lay on the questionably clean sheets and waited for him to make her a woman.

That and his eyes. Wild with excitement. She wasn't his first, but he made her feel like he'd never been with anyone like her. He was well versed in the bedroom, and he'd patiently groomed her for months. His touch was welcome and uncomfortable as he tried to get her ready with his fingers and his tongue. She politely tried to relax and let the moment take her away. At one point she pushed his hand from the area he seemed to think would drive her wild, and instead tried to bring him up for a kiss.

"Too much," he asked.

"Maybe just put it in," she nervously asked. "I want this," she touched him.

After a moment of discomfort she wondered if she should be matching his wild energy, he seemed to be getting more pleasure out of it than she was, but she felt foolish pretending to make the cliche sighs and moans she had seen in the movies or on porn. When he finished she had an almost pained look on her face. Underwhelmed but happy to feel loved. The thought of being in love gave her all the butterflies she needed though, and she smiled.

She snuggled into his arms, which was her favorite part of being with him, as she'd never realized how much she craved to be held or touched until he gave it to her.

"Well how was it?," he asked.

"It was…really good," she blushed, embarrassed that she didn't have the words or the experience to really know.

"You'll orgasm in time," he whispered and then got up to clean himself off, leaving her alone in the half warm, half cold sheets.

The memory faded as the subway intercome announced "Grand Central Station". The people with suitcases left the car empty, and she abruptly got up and exited with them. Not ready to be alone in public.

She found herself wondering the subway tunnels trying to figure out where to go, and decided to call Burton again.

"You've reached Burton. I'm not able to answer the phone-"

She hung up, slowly this time. She'd remembered that he had his bags of laundry in the back seat of his car when he left her house. He might be at his mothers house. She needed to see him before he left the city. Without her crazy mother and the police looming over their shoulder.

She walked to the purple line. She'd been to his mother's house once. He had left his laundry there and they had stopped to pick it up. His mother wasn't home though. It was an empty old house and they made out on her well-used brown tweed couch. She didn't know the address, but she remembered passing the Bayside station and that her street was blocks away. And if she could just walk the few streets near that train station she knew she could find him. She could find him. She'd have to find him, because this was the last train. So she made a rash decision and got on the purple line at 10pm and headed to Queens.

A barely audible announcement muffled through the subway car. "This will be the last train to Queens. Final Destination Bayside Station."