Tormented

Cassidy had never thought things would end up like this. He could remember when he was much younger, only four or five, full of hope, not understanding how brutal life could truly be. His mother had been around then. His father hadn't begun to compare him to Dick yet. Maybe his dad had still has hope for his younger son's life then, too. Before Cassidy became a huge disappointment to him because he was more awkward than Dick, less attractive, less aggressive. It didn't matter to Big Dick that his youngest was one of the most intelligent boys around. It just mattered that Cassidy wasn't as cool. It was his father that had started to call him Beaver, one of the reasons that he despised it so much. The man thought he was clever to mock Cassidy for always being busy, running around to work on one important thing or another. His dad believed that Beaver was a much better name for Cassidy than his real one. Dick had picked it up, and soon Dick's friends were referring to him as Beaver. His father's way of taunting him had spread to everyone, and once again he was overlooked, considered only the busy Beaver, Dick's younger brother.

He had trusted Woody Goodman. He had been seven years old at the time. His realization that everyone thought he was less than his brother, less than the Casablancas name had hit him with abundant clarity. Some would pity a child that knew that his brother was the favorite, but he just took it to mean he had to work harder at gaining his father's respect. He had joined a little league team to please Big Dick. After all, sports were one of the key components to his brother's relationship to the man. Cassidy had never shown an inclination towards sports. He would rather be working on a computer or reading or hanging out at school in his classes. The only sporting event that he had shown interest in was shooting, and that was mostly because Dick got to go with their dad to the range and learn. But Cassidy had had to prove himself, so little league was the best of the necessary evils. Woody had shown interest in him. Woody had listened to him, talked with him, and treated him like he was more than just another little boy. In a few short weeks, Coach Woody had integrated himself easily into Cassidy's life as a surrogate father. Baseball practice quickly became Cassidy's favorite times of the week. But soon, Woody started to act differently towards him, and a few of the others, and before Cassidy had known what had happened, his trust had been betrayed. Again.

Woody's actions had tormented him. This man he had come to consider a father had done things to him that he couldn't even begin to understand at a young age. He had just known it was wrong. But Woody had told him to keep it a secret because people wouldn't understand him. And Cassidy had been wonderful at keeping secrets. By the time he realized he shouldn't have kept it a secret, it was too late, and he couldn't bear the thought of people finding out what had happened. Just another instance of weak little Beaver allowing himself being taken advantage of. So he had kept the secret, and let it eat away at him, at his psyche, pushing him towards the edge of sanity, while he was completely unaware of what was happening to his mind.

He had panicked when the others had come to him, asking him to come forward so Woody couldn't get away with it any longer. Cassidy had immediately balked at their pleas. He couldn't let anyone else know. This just couldn't happen. So he had formulated his plan. He had never considered himself to be calculated. At first, he was just protecting himself. But as he got in deeper, it became almost like a game. Veronica was investigating the bus crash. This was the way he would be able to finish Woody. He wouldn't be able to get away with what he had done and no one would have to find out that it had happened to him. He should have known that Veronica's investigation would lead to him. He had always known she was smart. She was the one who had found Lilly Kane's real killer when everyone else was convinced the killer was already behind bars. He had become too confident, though. Veronica had come to him about the rape, but instead of confessing like she would have liked, he led her away from him and she had dropped the idea that he had been responsible quickly enough. Maybe he had started to underestimate her because of that situation. He had thought it would be easier to lead Veronica into thinking that it was about her. That was his first mistake. Curly Moran had been taking it too far. And now she was there, on the roof, pointing a gun at him, crying because he had just gotten rid of Woody Goodman and her father, an unfortunate byproduct of the event.

She was staring at him with such hate and confusion. She obviously thought he should be feeling remorseful about what he had done. But he was protecting himself. Why couldn't she just see that? Sure, others had gotten hurt in the process, but that was their own fault. People couldn't just let things die naturally. They had to keep dredging up the past. They had to keep underestimating him. Cassidy had never understood why people underestimated him. He didn't know what he had done to make people think he was a victim. He wasn't a victim. That was the last thing he was. He took control of the situations he was put in. He was stronger than anyone gave him credit for. But they would never understand that. No one would see that. Especially not a jury.

Logan was trying to convince Veronica not to kill him. Like that really mattered. Logan had been one of the first to mock him mercilessly, one of the first to make sure he was left out. Now he was trying to save him. That was a joke. He didn't need saving. His destiny was his alone and Cassidy had always taken charge of his destiny. That's why he had started things with the bus crash. Veronica gave in, of course, because as strong as she pretended to be, she was weak. Weaker than he was. Logan pulled Veronica into his arms and Cassidy started to step backwards. He was in control. That's what he had always needed. And if he stayed on that rooftop, he would lose his control over his life. Then what was the point of being alive. At least this would be on his own terms.

He climbed over the edge, cringing as Logan cried out, "Don't do it, Beaver." Beaver. Even after all this, he was just a joke to everyone. No one would take him seriously. He would always be little Beaver. "My name is Cassidy!"

Logan pretended like he understood. But he didn't. He was just like everyone else. They didn't realize how smart he was. They didn't realize how important he was. Even Mac, a girl who supposedly loved him, had expected little of him in the end. He didn't know why everyone treated him like this. He didn't know why his life had turned out like this. He wished he could go back to a time when playing monopoly with his nanny had been the most important thing in the world to him. But he was past that. He had a new direction in his life. Everyone would know what Cassidy Casablancas was capable of. He would be infamous. And he would just be Beaver.

He stepped backwards and fell. He was in control. His torment was over.