Chapter 1

Kate Jessup lay in her bed, fog swirling through her normally sharp mind. Her arms ached, and her chest, and her legs, and…between her legs. Every twitch, every blink, every thought seemed to hurt. She struggled to keep her eyes open, desperately searching for her a lifeline. Her hand, bloody and shaking, looked so foreign to her that it was like someone else reached out and fished for the cell phone that had slipped between her bed frame and mattress. She tried to roll over onto her side, but her feet were bound to the bedposts with two of her scarves from the prismatic collection that hung in the closet. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Kate mustered the last dregs of her consciousness to dial the numbers.

"911, what is your emergency?" The female voice was too calm, too reserved to register in Kate's frantically fading mind.

"Attacked…" She whispered. "Help." She closed her eyes, trying to block out the harsh sunlight that was streaming through the window. Her head throbbed, rolling waves of pain that ebbed and flowed with each word.

"Ma'am, are you in danger?" Kate still couldn't understand the words through the shooting pain all over her body that threatened to overtake her senses.

"Need…help." She said, trailing off. "Get Ethan…"

"Ma'am? Please, stay on the line. Is there someone else with you? Are you in danger?" But the questions fell on deaf ears. Kate was unconscious, and the sleek black phone slid out of her slackened grip, landing on the floor with a resoundingly foreboding crack.

The alert message crackled over the radio as Elliot and Olivia got into the car, steaming cups of coffee in hand. They listened intently, then stared in disbelief. "That's right down the road." Olivia said, reaching for the transmitter as apprehension grew in her stomach. They had been in the neighborhood to interview a suspect on exposure charges, and stopped for a cup of coffee on the way back to the headquarters.

"I'm on it." Eliot said, flooring the gas pedal and flicking on the sirens.

"SVU portable responding, over. Request back-up." Olivia chanted, craning her head to see the houses fly past. "There!" She called, pointing to an apartment building on the corner, "First floor." The tires squealed as Elliot slammed into park.

They hauled out of the car, un-holstering their guns and running up to the door. "NYPD!" Elliot shouted, hitting the door with his fist. "We're coming in!" The apartment was silent. He tried the knob, which turned easily in his hand, and slowly pushed the door open, sweeping the room with his gun. "Clear." He said, walking in. The hallway was narrow, but well lit. There were family pictures on the wall, a mother, daughter, and son wearing coordinating outfits and smiling back at their visitors from gilt frames.

Olivia quickly followed him, looking around as she stalked behind him. "El, there's blood drops." She said, motioning with the tip of her boot to a round maroon spot on the wooden floor

He nodded and continued checking rooms. Finally, there was one door left. Olivia pushed it open, and sighed. "I found our caller." She holstered her gun and walked in carefully, trying to avoid disturbing any evidence.

"Someone tore her up." Elliot said, looking over Liv's shoulder. They surveyed the room, frowning at the ruined innocence before them. Their victim was lanky and appeared athletic, judging by the cross country trophies that lined the walls. Her brown hair was bunched in what was once a sleek bun, and a wrinkled pencil skirt lay discarded on the floor next to a blouse and pantyhose. "There's no blood on the clothes other than spatter, so either she was attacked after she changed, or she knew her attacker." Aside from the desiccated woman lying on the bed, the room could have belonged to any young college girl; there were pictures of her friends and a school pennant tacked to the wall, scattered papers on the desk, and a psychedelic array of clothes hanging in the open closet.

Olivia snapped on a glove, gently stepping over a stack of books and some shoes on the floor and pressing her fingers against the victim's neck. "Wait…El…she's got a pulse!" She leaned over the prone girl, trying to find the source of the blood pooling underneath her.

"We need a bus!" Elliot shouted into his radio, running to Olivia's side. He untied the sparkling scarves that secured her feet to the bed, struggling not to think of his own daughters. "Unconscious?" He asked.

"Very." Olivia responded, trying to stem the bleeding from a gash on the girl's left side, just below her ribs. "Hang in there," she muttered. "You're going to be okay."

"Liv." Elliot said, his breath hitching. He pointed to bruises on the victim's thighs. "I think she was raped." She was naked on the bed, save a pair of pearl earrings. Her right arm was bent out of shape, probably broken, and aside from the gash on her side, their perpetrator had sliced her arms, feet, and chest. Bruises already mottled her fair skin, and would get worse as they healed, turning her into a canvas of dark purples and blues.

"She was tied naked to the bed, Elliot, I doubt it was consensual." Olivia said, still desperately holding her hands over the girl's ribs. Sirens wailed in the distance, and Elliot ran to the front door to meet them and guide the medics inside.

Olivia felt the girl beneath her begin to stir. "Hello? Hey, it's okay, it's okay." Olivia said with a smile, trying to soothe her frantic eyes. "I'm a police officer."

"Who…are you?" She croaked, closing her eyes.

"I'm Olivia." She said gently. "Hang on, there's paramedics coming right now. Just hang on." Olivia could tell that the girl was still teetering on the edge of consciousness. "What's your name?"

"Name's…Kate." She whispered, breathing shallowly. "Get…Ethan. Shouldn't …be…here." Her voice was growing fainter, the breaths few and far between.

"Is Ethan the man who attacked you?" Olivia asked urgently. "Kate…Kate!" Stay with me, Kate…Dammit." The medics ran into the room, dragging their gear and a stretcher. The younger one, a short twenty-something year old with a blond mohawk, took over for Olivia, pressing gauze over the wound and shoving her out of the way.

"Give us space, detective," he said firmly.

"Her name's Kate." Olivia called, stepping back and watching them work. The senior paramedic, stocky and muscled, strapped a neck brace on and flashed a penlight in her eyes. "Kate?" He asked in a brusque voice. "Kate? Her pupils are responsive, no obvious brain trauma."

"Pulse is a little weak," Mohawk medic said, consulting his watch. "There's a lot of blood loss."

"Let's get her out of here." The taller one set up the gurney and they lifted her on, quickly rolling her out of the room. There was barely enough room to maneuver, but soon enough they were rushing down the hallway and out the door. Olivia and Elliot escorted them to the door, but weren't allowed to ride with her. As the ambulance screamed away, Olivia leaned against the doorjamb, looking forlornly at her bloodied hands.

"What the hell was that?" Elliot asked, putting his cell back in his pocket after alerting Cragen to what had happened.

Olivia tried to swipe her bangs out of her eyes with her un-bloodied forearm, but failed and left a small streak of blood behind. "It's our case, that's what it is. And we have a suspect."