Fragile (Broken #2) SVU

Chapter Twenty Nine

**Olivia's POV**

"Momma can we talk?" Sky asks me.

She pads across the living room floor in her pyjama shorts and a strappy top. It's evident to me how much weight she's lost, and I feel sick at the thought of her having an eating disorder, but I let it lie for now.

"Sure." I reply, moving my legs from the couch to make room from her.

"I can't get what they did to me out of my head, momma. I don't know how to deal with it."

"Do you want to talk?"

"When I went back to them, I didn't understand what I was doing." She begins. "Like I knew they were dangerous but all I knew was that I had to protect you."

She shuffles closer to me, her leg bouncing up and down.

"When I walked into the warehouse I knew what was happening but it was too late to turn back. Peter had a special interest in me, I think he liked the challenge. The amount of times they beat me and hurt me, I don't want to even know how many times. I was so scared."

I don't speak. I let her continue, not wanting to interrupt now she's finally opening up.

"And then he made me perform on camera and the thought of that being out there forever makes me feel disgusting. And then they killed Bonnie - because of me. All because I couldn't shut up."

"It's not your fault." I whisper.

"I hate myself Mommy. I hate myself so much and I wish I could be someone else."

"Oh baby, you're perfect just the way you. I know it doesn't feel like it right now but everything will be okay."

"But will it? When I see Bonnie's murder again and again and Peter touching my skin and places no one should. It's not going to go away, it's going to stay engrained on my brain forever and I can't live with that."

I pull Sky into my chest, letting her cry it out, letting her know that I'm here. Even though I wish I could do more, I know this is all I can do for her right now.

************

After we take an afternoon nap, I begin to cook dinner. As I chop the vegetables I hear Sky stir and she sits up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"What are you cooking?" She asks me, hoisting herself up onto one of the breakfast bar stools.

"Spaghetti."

"Mom, I forgive Dad for leaving."

I drop the clean saucepan onto the floor when Sky speaks those words.

"Don't be so shocked. After what he did for us, how could I not? I'm sorry that he's gone to prison but at least you get to stay with me."

I pick up the saucepan and move it onto the countertop. I look down at Sky, and pride washes over me. Even after everything she's been through, my little girl is still inside somewhere.

**Sky's POV**

I'm standing in front of my mirror in my shorts and I wrap my hands around my leg, testing to see if I've lost any more fat. Mom's cooking wafts under my bedroom door and the smell makes me want to vomit. She's out there, working hard to cook food for me, and here I am plotting how to get out of it.

I stare back into the mirror and lift my shirt up - running my fingers over each individual rib like they're piano keys. The small bump that had started growing has completely gone now and you wouldn't even know I'd been pregnant.

I walk away from the mirror and slip into my bathroom. I kneel down beneath my sink and nudge out a loose tile. From behind it I pull out my supplies - the ones I'd remembered to put away so my mom wouldn't happen across them.

I pull out the scales and place them on the bathroom floor. I slip off my slippers, take a deep breath and step onto the scales. When the number is lower than the last time I weighed I can't help but smile. A barrel of emotional turmoil begins to spiral in my body when I realise eating dinner might ruin all my hard work.

"Dinner's ready." My mom yells as I shove the scales back into their hiding place.

I wander into the living room and take a seat at the dining room table. My mom places a plate in front of me and even though it looks delicious,, the thought of eating physically hurts.

I watch my mom as she tidies the kitchen and I take the opportunity. I pull out the tissues I'd shoved into my pockets earlier and begin scooping some of the spaghetti into it. I keep one eye trained on my mom and the other on pushing the spaghetti off my plate into the tissue. I shove the bulging tissues into my shoe and pick up my fork.

I shovel some of it down my throat and chew and even though it's painful to think about swallowing.

Ten minutes later, after shoving some more spaghetti into another tissue I push my plate away from me.

"Finished. Thanks mom." I yell, pushing my chair out behind me. "I'm going for a lie down."

I don't even bother to wait for her reply before bolting towards my bedroom door. I turn the key in the lock, turn my music up as loud as I can and stumble into the bathroom.

It takes me less than 2 minutes to vomit up everything I can. And even though it brings some relief I can't help but worry about what's left inside me.