A/N: Just so any of you new to this story know, it is going to be epic...eventually. I had thought about it being a one-shot, so if you would rather just read the first chapter and stop there, feel free to do so. This story takes place in the present day, but because I haven't seen all the new episodes since last season, it may be like it was where we left off then. I would appreciate reviews. Flames are welcome.
You save yourself, or you remain unsaved." Alice Seabold "Lucky"
Near Midnight Friday, November 9th 2007
"this is 911, please state your name and the nature of your emergency."
I clutch the phone in my hand, unsure of what to say. But somehow I speak without thinking. "My name is Casey Novak, and I was raped."
There is the buzzing feeling when I say this, A feeling of separation from everything. Shock, I think, it's definitely shock. The same feeling I had when a friend died, only a dozen times worst. Because I was raped?
No, not just that, it's because I killed my rapist. Killed, as in he's dead; he won't breathe, won't think, won't feel ever again. You know I try to pretend that I'm a good catholic girl, but the truth is that I don't believe in the afterlife.
"Ma'am, are you still there? Can you tell me where you are."
"Yes, I'm at West 117th street , 32 Morningside Avenue, apartment 2B."
"I will send some police and an ambulance. They should be there in less than ten minutes. I will stay on the line until they arrive."
How comforting. I will only have to look at the body for a little bit before the police come and arrest me. I should probably tell the operator that he's dead. How do I say this? I don't know how, so I just do it.
"Uh, the police should know that he – um, his body is still in my apartment. He's dead. I killed him."
Silence on the line. I guess that she is not sure of what to say.
"Please just stay where you are. The police should be there soon."
"I will."
My rambling mind thinks of what I am supposed to do now. They should know I'm with law enforcement, shouldn't they? SVU will be called, and what will they think when the address they are told to come to is mine? What do I tell my boss? I have to say something now.
"Also can you tell the police that I'm an ADA with the Manhattan District Attorney's Office and I would appreciate it if you would contact the Special Victims Unit. Olivia Benson. Call Detective Olivia Benson and ask her to come."
I tell the operator Olivia's badge number, precinct, and cell number. The 911 operator will call dispatch and dispatch will call Olivia. She'll answer her cell, no matter what the time of day. I want Olivia here because she's a woman and my friend. She'll understand what happened even if I can't properly explain it.
Abstract thoughts are floating in my head. Did he have a mother who loved him? Did he deserve to die? And what is death anyways? Am I going to die? Because what he did to me hurts like a bitch, and I've got his blood and mine all over me.
I should be freaking out about now…but I can't feel anything except the hum of the city around me and my heart's furious beating within me. It's taking all of my concentration to stay awake.
The operator is speaking to me, but I can't really hear what she's saying. I wonder if this is how most people feel right after being attacked. But it also might have to do with the amount that I am bleeding from my head…and other places that I don't want to mention.
Maybe it's the blood itself. You see, right now I am curled up in fetal position on the linoleum floor of my kitchen in my underwear, clutching a ripped bloody shirt and a telephone. There is a lot of dark red blood on my linoleum. And blood makes me dizzy.
There is a man lying about two yards from me. He is in his late twenties or early thirties. He has a shaved head and brown eyes. He is average looking, except his pants are around his ankles and he has two gunshot wounds to his chest.
My name is Casey Novak. I was just raped. And I killed my rapist.
