“Are you really going to listen? Will you at least try to see things the way I do?” she requested earnestly.
Matthew’s stomach did a strange flip-like thing at the sound of her begging tone. This was always the part of the job he hated. He liked solving the puzzle, putting the case facts together and tracking down the criminals, but this part, dealing with the victims and their myriad personalities and experiences, most of them tragic, he couldn’t stand. He could stand Olivia more than some other people he’d interviewed. Now that she wasn’t so much of a basket case, she seemed made of much stronger stuff, but she was still in a strange limbo of victim and suspect.
Still. “I don’t know if that’s a promise I can make, Miss Ruiz. I can promise I’ll listen. I can promise I’ll do my job. I can even promise to help you as much as I am able. But I can’t promise you I’ll ever see things the way you do.”
His refusal really seemed to upset her. Olivia’s shoulders slumped but she nodded for far longer than she needed to, lost in space again. When she spoke, she seemed to be talking to the room with Matthew as a set piece. Her words weren’t for him and they both knew that. “I figured you might say that. It makes sense I guess. It’s just…. I don’t think anyone is ever going to see it the way I do, Reed. No one is ever going to understand. If it ever comes out, everyone’s just going to think I’m crazy. That I’m young and I don’t know what I’m talking about. That I’m a victim and my feelings are all a result of my trauma. I think that’s what hurts the most
“I lived through all of it. I saw and felt and experienced more in one Summer than I think most people experience their entire lives, but in the end? I’m just a girl who no one will ever understand. There’s so much about me that will never be the same.
“You don’t want to hear about the sex stuff. I know that. I know how inappropriate it is to sit here and tell a complete stranger about people getting tied up and whipped, even fucked in front of me. But…I have to tell someone. Someone who won’t make me feel like a freak. Someone who won’t analyze me like Sloan does.
“She doesn’t mean to make me feel like a freak, not on purpose. It’s when she says I’m drawn to you, because you’re a strong man, like Caleb. When she says I kissed you because sex is the way I’ve been conditioned to get my way, that it’s all psychological, and it’s all because Caleb fucked with my head. I can’t stand it. I can’t have everything I feel, reduced to a textbook description that fits me, and millions of other broken idiots. More than that, I can’t stand thinking that maybe…she’s right.
“Maybe I don’t really love Caleb, maybe my brain made it up so I wouldn’t kill myself or feel so scared and alone. Maybe I’ll accept that one day and I won’t be able to stop having nightmares. Maybe I’ll never trust another emotion I ever have again. Who’s going to love a girl like that, Reed? Who’s ever going to love a freak like me?” She collapsed onto her bed and rolled into a ball, crying and rocking.
Matthew’s heart beat a frantic tattoo in his chest. He didn’t know what to do to make her stop crying. He didn’t want to touch her, that felt like the wrong thing. A hug? Not him either. He wished Sloan were here. She was the social worker. It was her job to deal with all the mushy shit. He remembered Olivia didn’t care for mushy.
“Someone will love you, Miss Ruiz. Even if you’re a jerk.”
“Fuck you, Reed,” she sobbed.
He laughed, “And you’re so charming, too.”
“You’re an asshole, you know that?”
“Yes,” he said as a matter of fact.
“God! Why are you so messed up?!?” She sat up and glared.
“Everybody is fucked up and we’re all freaks in our own ways.”
“How would you know?” she shot back, sniffling and glaring at him. “You probably had a charmed life in suburbia. No cares. No worries. A perfect life.”
He gave her a deadpan look. “I was abused as a child. African militants forced me to snort gun powder and cocaine and plow villages with my Uzi. Feel sorry for me and stop whining about how no one will love you,” he suggested calmly. Her shocked expression was priceless. He gave her a leveling look and softened his voice. “You’re young, strong and you’re an asshole to boot. With your smarts, you’re going to be just fine. Don’t let anyone ever tell you different. Not even you.”
Olivia’s expression softened and after a while she gave a little smile. “You’re okay, I guess, Reed. No one’s ever going to love you, but you’re okay.”
He gave her a wry smile, “Thank you, Miss Ruiz. I’ll remember that when you’re begging for sympathy.”
She sighed. “Can we be done for today? I’m really tired. Talking to you takes a year off my life.”
“Want me to turn off the lights? Would the dark help you confess?” he said, and he was only half joking.