Fragments of Fear
AN: Heads up – very graphic depictions of rape. Cuts off a little abruptly at the end but I'll fix that with Ch. 2 (assuming there ends up being a Ch. 2).
Amanda checks her phone again nervously to confirm the room number. It's pitch black outside, but Amanda finds herself squinting against the bright flood lights of the hotel as she scans the doors for the right number.
There's a slight tremble in her hands which Amanda convinces herself is because of the cool night.
There's a rock sitting hard in Amanda's stomach which she convinces herself is because she's barely eaten all day.
Sex. That's all this is.
She's had sex with strangers before. Picked up random men from bars.
This is the same thing, Amanda tells herself.
He's not a stranger but she can pretend that he is.
It's the same thing.
How long will take? Maybe five minutes? Seven? That's not long. Then it will be done.
Inside the room is hot. Hotter than Amanda expected.
She wonders if someone turned the heat all the way up and then broke off the knob. Why else wouldn't anyone turn it down.
Her hands are still trembling but now she's not cold.
Can too much heat make you shiver?
She's dizzy. She should have eaten.
He's standing three feet away pouring scotch into a glass precariously resting on top of a tv.
She's leaning against a dirty wall on the side of the dresser.
"Are you just gonna stand there all night, Darlin'?" he drawls, raising one eyebrow before grinning into his drink.
She pushes herself off the wall and takes half a step forward, attempting a smile.
"Of course not," she replies.
Now she's closer.
She can see the texture of his sandpapery skin and smell his scent.
Sweat and Old Spice, she thinks.
She doesn't even know what Old Spice smells like.
"Take off your clothes," he orders as a smug mask settles onto his face.
Amanda swallows hard.
Five minutes. Seven max.
She strips quickly. Brain turned off. Clothes dropping to the floor.
Five minutes. Seven max.
Her head snaps up when he lets out a long low whistle.
"Well damn, Darlin'," he says predatorily as he closes the remaining distance between them. "We shoulda arrested that sister of yours a long time ago."
The hand not holding the glass reaches out suddenly and grabs her left breast.
Amanda's body recoils purely on instinct and she reflexively takes half a step back.
She's sweating. But her skin is cold.
She forces herself to step forward again and lay down on the bed.
Five minutes. Seven max.
When she looks up again, he's naked.
He climbs on the bed next to her and she feels his rough skin rub against hers for the first time.
She nearly throws up.
His hand is quickly at the juncture of her thighs trying to force her legs apart and it's then that she realizes she's subconsciously clenching her thighs together.
Then she's pulling away.
"Wait, wait", she thinks she utters, a low buzzing filling her ears and the air around her getting thicker.
"I need to… to slow down." she tries again but her own voice sounds muffled.
She breathes in through her nose and thinks she catches a hint of Olivia's vanilla shampoo, but it's gone instantly, her panicked mind playing tricks on her.
Then there's pain. White hot pain across her cheekbone. Her nose. She felt a crack. A bone scraping across another bone. Her nose is running. It might be blood.
A long moan rips from her lungs.
She tries to sit up.
Every academy basic training technique is lost from her mind, and she's left flailing.
He's pleading with her, she thinks. He sounds upset, worried, but when she looks up his face is red and his eyes are hard.
He grabs her by the shoulders and shoves her down. The back of her head cracks against the headboard and she sees stars. Her vision narrows and her pulse is in her throat.
His hand is on the back of her head and he's rubbing it softly murmuring to her that she's okay, but the reassurances are curling away from her.
It takes him two tries to pin her arms above her head because her sweaty wrists slip out of his grasp.
He's fully on top of her now.
One hand is pinning her wrists, and the other is squeezing her breast so hard she can't help the wail that is surely escaping her throat.
He bites her shoulder hard, breaking the skin, before doing the same to her breast.
She can't focus on that though because he's using his knee and his free hand to lever her legs apart.
Someone is screaming. It might be her.
The sound is barely registering as raw panic cuts through her chest.
The muscles in her legs stiffen, the backs of her heels rising off the bed, and then he's inside her.
Pain. Searing pain.
Then ice cold water.
She chokes as some of the water enters her nostrils and she tries to blink through her watery vision.
The dark crushing weight is gone but he's holding her. She lets out a straggled cry.
Amanda.
She hears her name. Her first name. He doesn't say her name.
There's something soft against her cheek. And the smell is back.
Vanilla.
There are more words. Right next to her ear.
Amanda.
The voice is soft but pleading.
Her body jerks subconsciously and her elbow cracks into something hard.
"Easy, love, easy," the voice soothes. "I need you to come back to me, Amanda."
Amanda blinks harder trying to make sense of the voice. When her vision clears, she realizes her cheek is pressed up against someone else's and she seems to be cradled in their lap.
"Amanda, you're safe, love," the voice continues. "You're safe. You're safe."
Olivia.
The name snaps into her head.
The water. The hard porcelain.
They must be in the bathroom.
The shower.
Olivia must have walked in on her and Patton and now they're hiding.
"Olivia, no!" Amanda cries her strained voice barely able to form the words.
Amanda pulls back sharply and takes hold of Olivia's startled face in both hands.
"No, no… go…," Amanda's teeth are chattering so badly, whether by cold or fear, that she can't get the words out. "…before… please!"
"He'll hurt you!" she finally rasps, her voice cracking on every word.
In a flash, Olivia's hands are on Amanda's face, the same hold.
"Amanda, I need to you listen to me," Olivia says urgently. "He's not here. I promise you, my love, he's not here. We're at home. We're safe. This is our bathroom. Do you hear me, Amanda? We're safe."
Amanda stares into Olivia's eyes searching for the certainty that she sees there and absorbing the courage to finally look around the room.
The shower curtain isn't closed. It looks like it's only attached by two rings, the rest flung on the floor.
The tile is gray. Slate. Not laminate.
The bathmat is white. Fluffy. Impractical, she remembers.
Olivia had said it was impractical, but she liked the softness.
Amanda feels her traumatized scrambled mind begin snapping these fragments into place and her eyes drop to her own lap.
She's dressed. Blue-and-white striped pajama pants and a mismatched Falcons t-shirt.
The clothes are so completely saturated with water that they are acting as a literal wet blanket, but the heaviness of the material is helping her realize her body is no longer exposed.
Finally, her gaze returns to Olivia, whose arms are now circled around her loosely.
"Liv?" Amanda whispers with such hesitance the word barely escapes her throat.
Olivia leans forward, pressing her lips to Amanda's forehead and holding them there as Amanda dissolves into exhausted sobs.
Amanda feels Olivia tighten one arm around her shivering body and then feels the water shut off.
Suddenly the room is completely quiet except for Amanda's own quiet sobs.
"Shh, shh, my love," Olivia whispers, soothing. "It's over, my love. You're safe. You're safe."
A few moments later, Amanda feels herself being covered by a large towel, Olivia's hands running up and down her arms vigorously seemingly to infuse warmth.
"Sweetheart?" Olivia begins gently. "We need to get you out of here and into some dry clothes."
Amanda finds herself once again being drawn into the safety of her wife's steady voice and she slowly eases one of her hands out from beneath the towel to take hold of Olivia's.
Even though Olivia executes an extraordinary amount of care in helping Amanda stand, Amanda's traumatized body still winces. Whether the pain is real or imagined, Amanda doesn't know, but she grips Olivia's hand tightly, anchoring herself to the present and the safety Olivia offers.
Olivia is balancing precariously on a knife's edge, the anxiety and tension fraying her nerves, which she fears could snap at any second.
Amanda's nightmare had started out typical — typical as far as horrifying nightmares go.
Olivia had awoken to her wife tossing and turning, mumbling in her sleep. Olivia had recognized the signs immediately, taking her wife in her arms, and trying to guide Amanda away from her demons without having to wake her.
It was the first loud, tormented moan ripped from her wife's mouth that brought Olivia to the harrowing realization that this wasn't a typical nightmare.
From there, things escalated. Quickly. Too quickly. The grasping. The screaming. The devastating pain on her wife's face eviscerated Olivia.
Running out of options, Olivia had leveraged what she was sure was pure adrenaline to haul a thrashing Amanda into the shower. Attempting to cradle her broken, tortured wife and coax her out of her agony had left Olivia laid bare.
Now, Olivia doubts that Amanda can feel her wife's lingering tremor as Olivia guides her down the hallway, but Olivia does her best to steel her nerves.
The large bath towel that Olivia had hastily used on herself and Amanda did little to ebb the water that continues to drip off both of them as Olivia leads them to the bedroom. But they both need dry clothes, and Olivia certainly can't leave Amanda alone right now. So, the floor will be wet.
Olivia continues to hold her wife's hand as she haphazardly pulls two sets of pajamas from her drawer. They will be too big on her petite wife, but, based on past experience, Olivia suspects they give her wife a sense of security.
"Amanda?" Olivia says gently, waiting for her wife's eyes to rise and meet her own. "Let's get out of these wet clothes, okay?"
Grateful to receive a small nod in return, Olivia still hesitates when Amanda makes no further move to change.
Steadily, Olivia turns her body to face Amanda's and gently takes both of her hands.
"Sweetheart," Olivia begins while gently rubbing some warmth back into Amanda's icy hands. "How do you want to do this? I don't want to frighten you, my love."
Amanda continues to look at Olivia earnestly, taking a shaky breath, but still seemingly unable to form words.
"Can you take off these wet clothes, love?" Olivia tries again patiently.
Olivia is caught off guard when Amanda suddenly blinks hard and takes a jerky step back. At first, it seems like Amanda is going to pull her hands away from Olivia, but she seems to change her mind. The pleading look Amanda gives Olivia leaves the normally confident Olivia Benson feeling utterly helpless.
"I know, sweetheart," Olivia whispers. "I know."
Desperate to close the distance but not daring to take a step forward, Olivia tries to use words to coax her wife into action.
"Okay," Olivia starts stalling as she searches for the right words. "Okay. It's just you and me here, my love. We're alone in our safe, warm apartment. It's just me and you. I would never, never do anything to hurt you. Ever. I would die first. I know you're frightened. I know. I never want to make you do something you don't want to do, but you're shivering, sweetheart, and we need to get you warm so you can start to feel better."
Olivia finds herself practically pleading her last words and is relieved to see Amanda take the hesitant step forward.
"I'm sorry," Amanda whispers as a few silent tears escape her eyes. "I trust you. Always."
"It's okay, sweetheart," Olivia whispers back, slowly bringing their joined hands up to her lips and ghosting a kiss over the backs of each of Amanda's hands. "Don't apologize, my love. I just want you to feel safe."
"How about we start with the t-shirt?" Olivia offers gently. "If you want, I can stand behind you to help you so you don't feel as exposed."
Olivia make a move to sidestep Amanda, and Amanda's hand immediately comes up to grab Olivia's bicep, halting her movements.
"No," Amanda utters quickly before attempting a calming breath.
"I'm sorry," Amanda continues softly, seeming self-conscious about the knee-jerk reaction.
"No," Amanda repeats quietly. "Here. I need you here."
Oliva nods understandingly and resumes her position in front of Amanda.
Amanda pulls her arms into the sleeves of the oversized shirt, the wet, heavy material quickly becoming twisted.
"Can I help?" Olivia murmurs softly, prepared for her wife to reject her assistance.
Even after Amanda nods, Olivia is incredibly cautious in her approach, paying 100% attention to any points of contact her hands are making with Amanda's body. Delicately, she pulls the damp material over Amanda's head and then quickly replaces it with a warm, long-sleeve thermal shirt.
Amanda then takes the initiative to put her hand on Olivia's shoulder for support as she slips out of her wet pants and underwear before quickly putting on the cotton panties and thermal pants that Olivia hands to her.
Once Amanda stands back up straight, Olivia gently runs her hands up and down Amanda's upper arms and gives her an encouraging smile.
"Better, right?" Olivia says affectionately.
Amanda hesitates in response and looks down at her arms.
"More," she whispers faintly.
"More?" Olivia questions. "More what, my love? More clothes?"
Amanda nods timidly.
"Okay, okay, sweetheart," Olivia replies assuredly. "No problem. I think you've got the right idea, love. How about this?"
Olivia walks over to the chair in the corner of the room that is always perpetually covered in partially worn clothes, retrieves her NYPD hoodie, and hands it to Amanda.
As Amanda shrugs into the oversized garment, Olivia makes quick work of exchanging her own wet clothes for dry ones.
When Olivia looks back, a sad but affectionate smile tugs at the corner of her mouth when she sees that Amanda has pulled the hood up over her head and buried her hands in the endlessly long sleeves.
Taking a step closer, Olivia can't help but gently drop a kiss to the top of her wife's now covered head. Surprising Olivia, Amanda closes the gap further and wraps her arms tightly around Olivia's waist.
"I love you so much, sweetheart," Olivia whispers against the hood.
Olivia feels Amanda's hold tighten in response.
"I love you too, Olivia," Amanda whispers. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Shh, shh, shh," Olivia quickly soothes. "No, my love, no. You've done nothing wrong."
Olivia sways back and forth lightly as she continues to hold her broken wife. Despite the extra layer, Amanda still shivers in the cooler apartment, where the temperature is set to a degree that assumes the occupants are tucked in a warm bed.
"Why don't we get under the covers?" Olivia suggests softly. "We don't have to go to sleep, but we can get you comfortable."
Olivia feels the rigidity in Amanda's form immediately and knows she has just made the wrong suggestion.
"Hey, hey," Olivia jumps in immediately. "Or not. We don't have to, sweetheart."
Amanda looks up with watery eyes, looking so scared and unsure that Olivia's heart breaks for the hundredth time that night.
"Hey," Olivia started, gently tugging on the side of the hood. "What would make you feel safe, my love?"
The tears quickly let loose from Amanda's lashes as she shrugs defeatedly.
"Okay... Hmm... Okay," Olivia starts again. "We've got this, right? We'll figure this out. How about the couch? Do you want to try that?"
Amanda looks up and nods wiping her eyes on the sleeve of the sweatshirt.
"Okay, here we go then," Olivia says trying to project a steady confidence as she ushers Amanda to the living room, flipping lights on as she goes to rid the apartment of darkness.
Amanda quickly folds herself tightly into the corner of the couch, tucking her legs under her, and waiting for Olivia to settle in close next to her, effectively barricading herself in the corner.
Before easing in next to Amanda, Olivia swipes the small tube of vanilla hand lotion off the coffee table. After looping an arm around Amanda's waist and pulling her close, Olivia uncaps the lotion and proceeds to fish Amanda's hands out of the sleeves of the sweatshirt.
The lights, the sweatshirt, the lotion… Olivia is trying everything she can think of so that Amanda's current surroundings look, feel, and smell nothing like the horrors she relived not even an hour ago.
TBD. Maybe.