Addison is a school teacher living in New York when she becomes a victim of rape. The Special Victims Unit tries to connect the dots of the crime, leading back to a prominent family of the city. Sonny Carisi is the lead detective on her case, and th...
"Go away!" I shout through my apartment door at whoever is knocking. I keep my eyes trained on the laptop in front of me, where they have been for over an hour now replaying the same video, needing some kind of clue to why this happened to me.
"Addison, my name is Detective Carisi, I'm with the special victims unit. Please, open the door." The man says in return to my scolding, probably having been through people yelling at him through closed doors before. New York residents aren't always the friendliest.
All I want to do is to be left alone to wallow in my misery, "I didn't call you, and I don't want you here. Go away!" I open the door in a huff, the sound of his knocking making my headache worse.
The man is taller than I am, blonde hair, blue eyes, and a shaven face. His eyes stay focused on mine as I grill him down with a snarl, "your neighbor called, she was worried about you, said she heard somethings."
I scoff, "of course she called." I look at the women peeking out of her door and snarl her way. "Please, just leave. I don't need a dumb old cop here pretending to give a shit!" I ignore the sympathetic gaze he's giving me when I look back to him, all the anger I have focused on him.
"Is that what you really want? You don't look too good Addison, did somebody hurt you?" He asks, eyeing the bruise on my neck with a squint of his blue eyes, trying to get me to open up.
"Fell down the stairs, ran into a door, yaddi yada," my eyes roll with a loud sigh "I'm not going to press charges or make a statement, so just go." I keep my attitude up, anger building inside of me more and more the longer that I stand there wasting time I don't even care about anymore.
"Press charges against who? What happened here?" His thick New York accent coming through as he waits at the door.
"There's nothing you or anyone else can do for me. Mrs. Blaine should've minded her own business!" I yell loudly, hoping she could hear me now that she has shut the door and retreated back into her own apartment.
He sighs lowly, "why don't you just talk to me and I'll be the one to tell you what we can do for you?"
He's persistent and I'm impatient. I just want him to leave so I pose him a question, "if I let you in and answer your questions, will you leave me alone?"
"Yes." He says instantly. I exhale slowly and move aside, finally letting the detective into my apartment.
I kick at the old clothes on the floor and flop down onto my couch. He walks slowly behind me, looking around the apartment at the disarray I left it in, "mind if I sit?" He requests, gesturing to the chair across from me.
"Sure," I mumble to him tapping my laptop shut as he sits.
He sits and takes a notepad out of the inside of his jacket, "Addison, did something happen here tonight?" He asks first.
I shrug, "ya, sure." I keep it short.
He coughs, "let me rephrase. Did something happen here tonight that you didn't want to happen?"
I shrug again, biting my lower lip before responding, "maybe." I'm still trying to read him, see if he's good or not.
"At any point, did you say no to what he was doing to you?" He asks next as if it's the most important question he's ever uttered.
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"And what do you presume he was doing? I don't know what my neighbor told you, but I am not going to press charges." I stand up impatiently now, raising my voice, "I let you in and answered your questions and I want you to leave!" I demand pointing to my door, realizing how big of a mistake it was to let him in and talk to him.
"Okay. Okay," he puts a hand up and goes to put his notepad away. "Listen, I'm going to leave my card. Detective Carisi. If you change your mind, call me. And I suggest you get yourself to a hospital and looked at before showering or washing anything. We can recover evidence up to 92 hours after an assault." He drops a card on my coffee table before heading to the door, "you don't have to go through this alone." He says once at the door and holding the handle.
"Ya, whatever!" I slam the door once he's out and I rest my head against it breathing heavily to try and calm myself down.
***************************************
It has been 6 hours since that detective was at my door and I find myself wandering into the precinct that was addressed on his card. I get up the elevator and when the door opens the sounds of people and phones is all that's heard. I follow the hallway down as men and women dressed in regular clothes and uniforms hustle around me, busy at work. When I reach the main area I look around for the familiar tall male I talked to earlier. Eventually, a woman with freshly done blonde hair comes over to me, "can I help you?" She doubtfully asks. I can see her eyeing the bruises on my neck, possibly the ones on my arms. She knows something happened, they all do, but she doesn't know what I'm going to say.
I look her in the eyes, willing her to look into mine and not on the bruises, "I'm looking for detective Carisi?" I replied to her with a shaky voice.
"Sure, sure. What's this about?" She responds, putting her hand near my back to usher me over to a chair.
I ignore her gesture and avert my eyes around the room again, "is he here? I need to speak to him!" I demand more urgent this time, an unintentional quiver coming out with my words.
Just then his voice is heard from across the room, "Amanda, I'm gonna go out and grab some doughnuts! Watch my--" he stops when he sees me, "Addison, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?" He asks coming over to where I've been standing.
"He came back!" I meet him where he's standing and thrust a piece of paper at him with determined force.
"What are you talking about?" He questions, eyeing me with concern.
I try to control myself but my voice just raises, "he came back over after you left and stuffed this under my door!"
"Who? Who are you talking about?" He urges me to tell him.
"Jason Charles." I spit his name with disdain.
"Jason Charles? The governor's son?" The women steps up next to me, knowing exactly who I was referring to.
Detective Carisi then unfolds the paper handed to him and stares at the envelope, the seal of the governor's office clearly visible from where we all stand "shit," he mumbles staring at the check, probably unaware that I heard the concern in his voice.
