A strand of DNA contains little bits of our parents. 23 pairs in each strand, and each pair is supposed to represent us. But with mine, some of the chromosomes are from a rapist, and the others are from a drunk.
"You know, getting beat up isn't the worse that could happen to you." The social worker spoke, as she sat next to me. A nurse cleaned up a gnarly wound on my arm, while my other arm was itchy under the cast.
"I don't know why you are here." I huffed, and the nurse looked up at me and smiled slightly, before going back to cleaning the wound.
"I'm here because we found your mother laying in a pool of blood in your apartment. Dunno if it's yours or hers, but it's still a big deal. We are going to remove you from her."
"Go ahead." I replied, and her eyes went wide. She hadn't expected me to be so eager. But honestly, I want out of the hell hole I go home to. I want to run away, and be free.
"Well, as of right now I don't have openings at any of my go to foster families or group homes."
"Awesome. Now, can you leave? I want to go home and sleep before the pain medicine wears off."
She huffed at my comment, and got up and left. I looked at the nurse, and she eyed me.
"If we are being honest, she's a bitch. She always is here talking to children like that. It's unprofessional, just like how I am being right now."
"It's better than that shit she was spewing."
///
I walked home from the hospital, because my mother was still there, and wouldn't be released for awhile because she was unconscious. I still saw people coming in and out of my building, and I knew they were still finishing up working the crime scene.
"Olivia Benson." A man spoke, and I sighed as I looked at him.
"What?"
"You're the girl that got rushed to the hospital, right?" The officer spoke, and I sighed.
"I wasn't rushed really. I just got into an ambulance with my mother, and she was rushed off to get checked out, and I got my arm sewed up." I replied.
"You can't stay here tonight, so I was ordered to bring you back to the precinct." He replied, and I looked up towards my apartment window, and I saw a few people walking around in my bedroom.
"Okay then." I replied, and the officer nodded. He looked barely old enough to be an officer, and I was surprised that someone sent him to get me, but you never know, it's probably because he wasn't granted a gun yet.
///
I wasn't even allowed to gather any clothes, and as I walked into the precinct, I felt like I was a monster. That because my mother beat me, that it was my fault that she was in the hospital and not breathing by herself.
Instead of leading me towards a place for me to sleep, I was put into an interrogation room, where I was left for over an hour. I only knew what time it was, because the medicine they gave me at the hospital was supposed to wear off shortly after midnight, and now it's gone completely and my arm is achy.
"Olivia Benson?" A man spoke, and I sighed.
"You know who I am, because you are keeping me here and attempting to charge me with assaulting my mother."
"And how do you know that?" The man mused, as he sat down in front of me. He was kinda amusing, and looked like a monkey, which helped ease the anger I had towards this hell hole.
"What's your name?" I questioned, as I leaned forward, and propped both of my arms on the table.
"Detective John Munch."
"Well, Detective Munch, I didn't assault my mother."
"And how are you going to prove that? She fell down?" He questioned, and I was beyond angry now.
"Aren't you supposed to help those who are abused? I've been abused my whole damn life because the dick who raped my other kinda knocked her up. Now, I've been up since 6 yesterday morning, because my mother was drunk and I had to pick her up from her bar. Then I drove her home, cleaned up the vomit from the back of the car, and went to school. I had to come home in the middle of the day, because my mother had wandered out in the street, and her hatred for seeing me drew her back to the apartment, where she beat me for so many hours."
"How'd she end up on the floor? In a pool of blood, Olivia?" He questioned, and I swallowed hard.
"She had just cut my arm open, and she went to grab more whiskey. My blood was everywhere, and she tripped on the corner of the coffee table, and then slipped on my blood. I didn't push her, nor did I hurt her. She's my mother, and even though she beats me, she is still my mother. I still love her." I whispered.
"Did she tell you anything about the man who raped her?" He questioned, and I eyed him.
"Why? Just ask her yourself when she wakes up. But isn't it only a five year maximum?" I mused.
"It is what, 11 years too late? But we could still try to figure something out." He replied, but I shook my head.
"No, so can I go somewhere? I want to sleep."
"I'll take you back to the hospital if you want to stay with your mother?" He spoke, and I shrugged.
"I'll walk."
///
I sat in my mother's hospital room, and I thought about how my DNA was screwed. The chance of me being a drunk was higher than most, and you never know, maybe instead of being so addicted to sex that one has to rape someone, I'll just get hurt in that way instead. My life was a never ending cycle of pain, and maybe at sometime, once my mother wakes up, she'll love me.
Maybe she'll take care of me, and make me feel wanted, like a human. But instead, since my father was a fucking dick, I get treated like shit.
DNA sucks sometimes.
Hey guys. I have no idea what I did with this. So, don't vote or comment if you only want to do it to be nice. Only vote and comment if you actually liked it. Thanks for reading.