![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
priscaTitle: Running through the night
Character: Olivia Benson
Prompts: running
Word Count: 228
Finished: 09.10.2020
:::
Olivia was running through the night, to get a clear head again.
She loved her job, and she was good with it, but it had been a long process until she had been ready to accept it, that there often wouldn't be a happy end.
Even if they were able to convict someone, and at the end stood a life imprisonment or even a death sentence, it sometimes was hard to get rid of the feeling that this was not enough. When the pictures of morning parents who had lost their only child or a broken young girl who would never forget the face of her torturer again followed her into her dreams, then she felt guilty because she hadn't been there in time to prevent the horrible.
Or, like today, when the lines blurred, and the perpetrator on closer examination turned out as a victim, too. A part of her wanted the harshest verdict possible for the young mother who had killed her babies, but she couldn't get rid of the picture in her mind. The barely eighteen girl, in her father's arms, not comforting but the possessive embrace of a lover who was not willing to let go, what in his eyes, belonged to him forever.
Olivia quickened her pace, one more round. She wouldn't pause today until she had reached the point of utter exhaustion.
Character: Olivia Benson
Prompts: running
Word Count: 228
Finished: 09.10.2020
:::
Olivia was running through the night, to get a clear head again.
She loved her job, and she was good with it, but it had been a long process until she had been ready to accept it, that there often wouldn't be a happy end.
Even if they were able to convict someone, and at the end stood a life imprisonment or even a death sentence, it sometimes was hard to get rid of the feeling that this was not enough. When the pictures of morning parents who had lost their only child or a broken young girl who would never forget the face of her torturer again followed her into her dreams, then she felt guilty because she hadn't been there in time to prevent the horrible.
Or, like today, when the lines blurred, and the perpetrator on closer examination turned out as a victim, too. A part of her wanted the harshest verdict possible for the young mother who had killed her babies, but she couldn't get rid of the picture in her mind. The barely eighteen girl, in her father's arms, not comforting but the possessive embrace of a lover who was not willing to let go, what in his eyes, belonged to him forever.
Olivia quickened her pace, one more round. She wouldn't pause today until she had reached the point of utter exhaustion.