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Hi guys, I've realized I made a huge mistake and one of my reviewers pointed it out, so time is a bit off, Ive mixed up the beginning of the story on July 4th and somehow moving into December. I have gone back and fixed everything. So I'll clear things up : All of this story right now is in July. If you were to look back there is no mention of Christmas, winter, or snow, if there still is point it out to me. I might discontinue this story on wattpad, as nobody seems to care about it on here. If you want to read it, go to fan fiction.net same username.

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"I wish you would eat something." Elliot said

Across the table, Robert was finishing up a bowl of spaghetti that one of her neighbors had left

"I can't." Olivia said "You were hungry," she said to Robert, studying his empty bowl

He nudged the bowl to the side.

Elliot turns from the stove, a pot of tea in his right hand a cup in the other. He offers it to Olivia.

Earlier she had tried to make an effort of eating a piece of bread with tomato soup, but her throat had refused to swallow it. She had clean clothes on, the ones she had put on in front of Elliot. Her eyes and nose swollen, she'd figured that she'd cried more on the bathroom floor than at any other time in her life. Possibly her life. She felt drained. Emptied. Simply from crying.

"I'm sorry." Robert said

"For what?"

"All of it."

She looks down.

"You're job is unimaginable" Olivia asks "How do you do it?"

Robert looks at her droopy eyes.

"Me? Look at what you do. How do you go around each day, looking at bodies, having to hear gruesome stories, to be around sick perverts all day. All I am is the grim reaper. I tell them they're family member is dead, then I just help them."

She looks down.

He takes out a cigarette and lights up.

"Want one?"

"Sure." She says, taking his lighter and putting the flame to the cigarette

She inhales the fumes.

Elliot looks at her, angry with the way she's abusing her body.

James had hated smokers, he couldn't tolerate being a room with one. She knew he'd be furious with her if he saw her smoking.

"Why do you do it?" She asks, referring to his career choice

"I suppose I'm drawn to moments of intensity." Robert says "In the human experience."

"And you?" he asks, keeping his cigarette between his lips

She's silent. Aware for the first time that there's music in the background. Ralph McTell, Streets of London.

"That's a story for later."

"Do they? Mend?" Robert asks

She realizes he's acting about the victims

"Given enough time, the women usually do. Unfortunately...."

"I'm sorry."

"...the children don't heal as well." Elliot fills in

Robert only nods

"They always say children are resilient. They mutate with disaster and make accommodations. I hardly ever see grief stricken men, not a lot are assaulted. And when I do see men, they're fathers, furious that their wife or daughter could be hurt like that." Olivia says, continuing

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