10. Sleepless in Manhattan

"It's okay, My Love."

"But it's not." I was raped. And beaten. And left for dead.

*Olivia's POV*

She finally broke. I've been so scared for the past couple of days. My heart is breaking for her, but she needed to cry. She's going to start to cope.

She cries into her hands, oblivious to the painful black eye she still has. I wrap my arms around her and she leans into me with no objections.

I look up and see Amanda watching her. Nobody likes seeing Ellie cry. Ellie never cries. I was actually scared she would barely react to the rape.

After a little while, she's calmed down enough for talking. Amanda sits on the other side of the couch. Ellie positions herself so she's perpendicular to me, legs over my lap, so she can see both of us.

"What happens now?" she asks.

"We hunt down the bastards who did this to you and you accept and cope with it," Amanda says.

She nods, holding tight to the blanket around her small body. It bothers me how skinny she is, even though I know she's perfectly fine. Maybe it's because I know she could either put this all behind her or take her feelings out on something else.

Knowing I was gonna do this at some point, whether it be for her sweet 16 or when she leaves for college, I figure now is the best time. I reach behind my neck and unclasp my "Fearlessness" necklace and put it around my daughter.

"Why?" she asks, lifting her hand to touch the word.

"I've had it for as long as I can remember. It helps, El. And remember it's a piece of me."

It's so much more than that. As soon as I had Ellie, I had a feeling that things would be alright. I didn't grasp the necklace, rubbing the letters with my thumb every time I got scared. It transferred into my daughter. I did everything for her with no question. Now she needs a little placebo.

*Ellie's POV*

I don't get why she gave me this. It helps her through everything. I've gotten through anything stressful without any sort of charm.

Maybe it's just a thing she's always wanted to do. I smile and let her hug me, against all that I'm feeling.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Until your ankle is better," Amanda states. "I don't want you walking the streets like that." It's a lie; she doesn't want me walking the streets period, anymore.

"Okay," I say, forcing the heat behind my eyes to cool. I don't want to go back home. My house is boring as hell. Amanda's is no different, honestly, but it just seems more fun. But, then again, I miss my mom. A lot. Even when I hang out at the precinct I don't see her much.

Mom takes my bag of necessities - phone, laptop, chargers - and helps me out to the car. I have clothes at home still, so this is all we need for now.

When I walk into my actual home, it feels so much different. Why, I'm not sure. Maybe it's because I've been used to Amanda's.

It's not that late so I go take a bath. As soon as I get in, I feel a layer of grime that wasn't there before. I scrub myself raw but it doesn't really help. I know I'll feel like this for a while, dirty. But I guess there's nothing I can do about it.

When I go to bed that night, Mom is with me. I don't want her to leave me, though I know she has to.

I feel my eyes forcing themselves shut as the need for sleep takes over. She's holding my hand and touching my head. Before I know if, I've drifted off.

"'Ew. What the hell?' someone asks. 'Why don't you go take a shower or something?'

'Totally disgusting.'

'Wait, is she the one who got raped? Just like her best friend?!'

Laughter rings out all around. Desperately, I look for Jordyn or Logan or someone, but they're both snickering to each other, pointing at me.

'Nice black eye.'

Suddenly, all the voices are overlapping, like in movies. I feel myself losing it.

And all of a sudden, I'm screaming."

I wake up with a start and see its 4:12 in the morning. I shake my head and lie in bed for a while. When I can't seem to do that anymore, I get up and sneak to the kitchen. I notice the gun safe is open, so Mom must be gone. Good. I don't need her seeing me like this.

I get some water and sit on a stool, letting my thoughts take me over.

I contemplate taking another bath, but I know it's useless.

I hear Mom's alarm go off, but I know it's because she forgot to turn it off before leaving last night. My mind seems to forget that someone else is also in this apartment and the horror of my condition comes back to haunt me.

"You're up earlier than you are on a school day. Why?"

I turn the stool around to see Elliot. Of course he woke up. Of course.

"Couldn't fall back asleep," I half lie. I could have slept if I wasn't so afraid to.

"Why? Bad dream?"

I shrug.

"How do you not know?" he asks.

"Not a suspect," I snap.

"Just asking," he defends, going to get coffee. I spin back around.

He looks down at me. "Where'd you get that?"

I look down, realizing I'm absentmindedly rubbing the words on Mom's - my - necklace. "My mom gave it to me."

"She's has that thing for forever."

"I know," I say. "I don't get why she fact it to me."

"To help you. It helped her, especially when she was raped."

I close my eyes for a second to shake the thought of what he just said. "I thought it was you and the squad that helped her out."

"That too. But really the only thing I did was tell her to not abort you."

I stare at my almost-empty glass of water. "I don't think I ever thanked you for that."

"I took the puke on my jacket as thanks."

I laugh, even though that's kind of disgusting. "How old was I?"

"You were thankful at around three weeks."

"You have low standards of appreciation, I guess."

"You never wanted me to hold you. All you would do is cry until your mom would be able to carry you. When you finally didn't scream because I wasn't your mom, it was because you were vomiting on me."

I smirk. "I couldn't talk, what was I supposed to do?"

"Not cry or scream, or vomit, for that matter, would've been nice," he says.

"Whoops."

He chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee.

"So why are you up so early?" I ask.

"Your mom never remembers to turn the damn alarm off when she goes out in the middle of the night."

I nod and drink the rest of my water. Elliot leans his forearms on the island.

"Look, I know you don't wanna hear it - your mom didn't either - but you should really go to sleep. You'll only drive yourself crazy, thinking."

It takes me a second to get that he knows I'm not sleeping because of nightmares. That's why he asked me right off the bat if that's what happened.

"It's not that easy." I look down, suddenly feeling exposed.

"I get kept awake at the thought of my daughter's friends being pregnant. I get what irrational thoughts are like."

"How old?"

"My youngest daughter just turned 16. But none of them ever gave me a reason to worry they'd get pregnant. It's a learning process."

I nod.

Fifteen minutes later, in lying in my bed, pretending I'm going to be able to sleep.