Title: Enough

Author: Emily

Rating: T

Pairings: Casey/OC, Casey/Derek

Summary: When Casey's private hell becomes too much to bear, she makes a choice that could well cost her her life—will she be able to save herself?

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

AN: Way AU. This one is a little dark. OK, maybe a lot dark. It deals with domestic violence, sexual assault, suicidal ideations, depression…yeah, it's a lot dark. The feeling behind it is that I know what amazing capacity Casey would have to survive something so brutal as spousal abuse, but I also see that she could truly be vulnerable to a relationship where this could happen. And no, I'm not going to have Derek swoop in and save the day. Hell no—Casey's going to save b herself /b .

Chapter 1: Enough

"Face down in the dirt, she says 'this doesn't hurt',

She says that 'I've finally had enough'.

"Face Down", Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

I couldn't take my eyes off my reflection. I could barely stomach the sight of face, but I wasn't able to bring myself to look away. The black eye, the split lip, the bruising and the smears of blood were hypnotizing. Staring into the mirror at my own injuries was what prompted me to make the phone call earlier.

'Well, I'm awfully glad you called, and I'm so sorry this happened to you. Can I ask your name?'

'Casey. Casey Kelly.'

'Casey, I'm Beth, and I want to help you, okay? Are you in a safe place now?'

'Yes. My husband's at work. He won't be home for several hours.'

'Okay, Casey. Can you tell me about what happened?'

And just like that, I divulged the dark secret I'd been carrying around for years. My husband, David, beat me. Abused me.

I was a victim of domestic violence.

I never would have imagined when David and I got married a month after my graduation from NYU that I'd end up on the phone with a crisis worker at a battered women's shelter.

'Casey, no one ever expects to become a victim. If he hit you on the first date, you'd never have gone out with him again. It often starts smaller and progresses.'

And it had. A little possessiveness, a little jealousy, a little anger. Even before the wedding, it was there, but I believed it was just David showing how much he loved me. He'd say things like, 'Casey, I love you more than anyone else ever could' and 'I'd just die without you'. At the time, I didn't see how dangerous the situation really was. After we got married, things escalated. I'll never as long as I live remember the first time David hit me. He got home from work early, and I wasn't there. When I got home, he flew into a rage, screaming and ranting before he backhanded me. I fell over onto the couch, and he was immediately apologetic. He swore it would never happen again, that he'd just lost control, that it was an accident. Because he'd never hit me before, I wanted to believe he meant it, so I told him I forgave him and that I loved him. I thought I did. I wanted to love David in spite of the emotional abuse and the fact that he hit me. I wanted to move past it.

Not anymore. Last night was the last straw.

'David was angry because the suit he wanted to wear to work today was still at the cleaner's. He started yelling at me, and at first I told him I was sorry, but that didn't diffuse things like it normally did. I headed into the kitchen and got a glass from the cabinet. David followed me in and kept yelling. I turned to face him, and he backed me up to the counter and snatched the glass out of my hand. The next thing I knew, he had smashed the glass against the counter and slashed my shoulder with a large piece of the glass. When I saw the blood, I started screaming, and I saw his hands flying at my face. That's the last thing I remember.'

'Casey, that's terrible. What do you think David was trying to do last night?'

'I think he was trying to kill me'

Beth agreed and began talking to me about whether or not I wanted to leave. As much as I hated the idea of admitting that my marriage was ending—because I never wanted to be a failure at anything—I knew I had to get out. I declined Beth's offer for shelter because I was terrified of him finding me. I knew that if he could track me down and get to me, he would kill me. As depressed as I was, I didn't want to die. So, Beth and I came up with a plan.

I tore my eyes away from my reflection when my cell phone trilled. A text message from my friend Sarah. 'I'm down the street. You ready?' I replied with a 'Y' and then called the cell phone company, changed the billing address and canceled the account, paying the fee with a credit card in both our names. I dropped the phone on the floor and stomped on it with all of my weight, smiling with some satisfaction at the sight of the wires and twisted metal. I picked up the escape bag I'd packed earlier, which held clothes, all my important documentation and my photo album, and headed out the door. I walked down the block to meet Sarah, who was waiting for me in the car she'd rented. Sarah gave me a reassuring smile and pulled away from the curb, headed out of Albany and north toward the border.

'Casey, where are you going to go? Do you have a safe place where David won't find you?'

'My parent's house. David never deigned to visit them there, so he has no idea where they live. And it's in Canada, which makes it even safer, I think.'

David's attempts to isolate me from my family had never for one moment alienated them, so when Beth placed the three way call to my mother, she was devastated but ready to do whatever it took to save me. We agreed that Sarah would drive me to the bus station and I would take a bus across the border, where I would meet my mother on the other side. She would then take me home, and George would help me start the divorce process.

I wanted to cry. Not only had my husband been abusing me for years and had tried to kill me, but now I had to leave my entire life behind, including my home and my career, and run home to Mama. I felt pathetic, even with my mother's assurances that all my family cared about was my safety.

Back to Canada. I fell asleep with the unbruised side of my face resting against the window, my stomach churning with anxiety.

Toronto was sunny and breezy, familiar. I'd had my passport and bag checked and been welcomed back to Canada. So far, everything was going according to plan. I scanned the parking lot of the bus station, and didn't have to look far before I heard a familiar voice.

"Casey!" My mother was waving from beside the car and hurried toward me before I even reached her. She held out her arms but stopped short. "I don't want to hurt you. Oh, my baby."

I wrapped my arms around Mom and hugged her as tightly as I dared with my freshly stitched arm. "Thank you, Mom, for being there for me." For the first time since I'd picked up the phone and called Beth, I found myself blinking back tears.

Holding back tears of her own, Mom just shook her head. "Of course, Casey. We would do anything for you." She led me over to the car and dropped my bag in the trunk. As we settled into the car for the two hour ride home, she spoke again.

"Now, you just rest on the way home, honey. We can talk later if you feel like it." She reached out and squeezed my hand before pulling out of the lot and heading home. I rested my head against the seat and wondered how on Earth I'm going to explain what happened to my siblings.

"Mom? Did you tell the others what was going on? Other than George, I mean."

My mother tilted her head and peeked over her sunglasses at me. "Lizzie, Edwin and Marti had it figured out before I finished telling them you were coming home. I think they've had their suspicions for a while now. Apparently, Edwin let it slip to Derek, and after we talked him down from wanting to murder David, he really hasn't had much to say. He's staying at the house for a while, too. I think it'll be good for you to have your whole family around."

I nodded and mulled over what she told me. Derek's reaction was surprising, at best. While we certainly got along better than we had in high school—in fact, I ventured to call us 'friends' as we got older—I was curious as to the severity of his reaction. I'd have to ask some questions and get more information.

"Mom, I want to talk about it. Is that okay?" I had a desperate need to share my struggle with my mother, to tell her everything I'd been hiding for three long years. Having been forcibly separated from her for so long, I needed her to understand how I'd suffered so that she could see why I'd been gone. She looked worried but agreed, and the words spilled from me with tremendous force. Before I knew it, I'd told her everything, and we were pulling into the driveway.

Looking out the windshield at the house, I felt both a flutter of nerves and a surge of nostalgia. I haven't been in this house in 3 years, and I haven't seen the people who live in it in that long. Would they be angry? Would they hate me? Would they understand? I glanced at my mother, who gave me a reassuring smile and got out of the car. She came around to my side and opened my door. I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car, following her up to the front door and waiting anxiously as she opened it and stepped inside.

"Casey." She was looking at me. I squared my shoulders and walked into the house.