Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter Three

"You don't have to see anything. All you have to do is lie there." Casey shot up in bed, her body covered in a light sweat. Breathing heavily, she put a hand to her forehead, trying to banish the memories that were swirling there. She swore she could still feel the pain between her legs from the assault on her that night.

Taking a deep breath, Casey rose from the bed and went to the window, which overlooked the alley next door. She leaned forward and rested her face against the window, savoring the coolness against her skin. Somewhere out there were the two men who had violated her, probably doing it to someone else right now.

Frowning, Casey turned from the window and headed into the bathroom. She turned on the light and gazed at herself in the mirror. She knew she was looking at herself, but it didn't feel like it. It felt like she was staring at a stranger, someone who she couldn't relate to, and wouldn't even know how to. Casey turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face, wiping it dry with the paper towel provided. Getting back in bed, she lay on her back, eyes on the ceiling, reliving the events of earlier. Her goodbyes with the family were emotional, and in her mind's eye, she could still see Derek's face as he tried to communicate his feelings for her without verbalizing them. They hugged, and he held her tight, but didn't dare speak, considering that their family was standing right there.

Casey's eyes had wandered to George, who was standing next to her father, his eyes shadowed. Their eyes held for a moment before she moved away from Derek and bid goodbye to the others. She wouldn't be able to have any contact with them for seven days, as was the rules when first admitted. At first, it didn't seem like that big a deal, but as she lay there, alone in the middle of the night, she wondered if she could handle it after all.

Shortly after her family left, the director of the facility came to see her. He was a small, weasly looking man with thinning hair and cold eyes. His name was Dr. Felling. Flanking him were two orderlies, both young men. "Hello, Ms. McDonald," he said, offering a limp hand for her to shake. I hope you are finding your accommodations acceptable."

Casey wanted to snort, but she refrained. "It's fine," she said shortly.

"Good," Felling said before moving forward. "Where are your things?" he asked, looking around the room.

Casey's brows rose. "Why?"

"Well, all new patients must submit to a search of their belongings. You know, in case of contraband and things like that," he said waving his hand offhandedly.

Casey had been annoyed, to say the least, but she understood why they had the rule. She granted them permission to search her bags, and also the room in case she had taken the initiative and already hidden her "stash". Finding nothing, he then proceeded to go down the laundry list of rules and regulations that she would have to follow if she were to stay. Among them: no phone calls or visits for the first week, no fraternization between patients, no having visitors in your room without supervision, no jewelry, make-up or any personal hygiene product that contains alcohol, no shoe strings, belts or any item that can be used to injure yourself or others . . . and the list went on and on. Was she in prison or a treatment center?

She listened to all the rules half-heartedly, only wanting them to leave so she could go to sleep. The last thing he went over was the dress code, which basically consisted of a gray sweat suit. The patients could mix and match t-shirts, but they more or less had to all dress alike. Casey didn't know what the point of that was, and how it fit into making her well, but she didn't care enough to fight it. Felling had provided her with two pairs of sweat pants and a hooded sweatshirt to go with it. "Well, I trust you will end up enjoying your stay with us. I'll leave you now to rest up for tomorrow. Sleep well," he said before turning and taking his goons with him.

Back in the present, Casey sighed and lay awake for a few more hours before falling back into a light sleep.


"Good morning, Casey. How are you today?" the counselor, a woman, asked her.

"I'm fine," she replied dully, not up to answering questions so early in the morning. Another rule of the facility was that all patients had to get up at 7 a.m. This was usually followed by breakfast, a time to clean up, then therapy sessions would start at 9 a.m. Because this was Casey's first day, her routine was a bit different.

"I'm Susan Coleman. I'm the resident psychologist here and I will be supervising your recovery." She held out her hand for Casey to shake.

"OK," Casey said, shaking her hand limply. She examined the woman closer. She was blonde, obviously a dye job if her roots were anything to go by, and she was shorter than Casey with a figure that belied motherhood. She had friendly eyes, however, and Casey relaxed a bit. She really wanted to get better, so she figured that she would need to drop her bad attitude. The woman doctor didn't need to know that, however, and Casey kept her expression blank.

"Well, let me tell you what's going to happen while you're here," Susan said, thumbing through some files. "You will be here for 30 days. If, at the end of those 30 days, we feel that recovery has been achieved, you will be discharged. If not, we will recommend an extended stay, but of course, it will ultimately be up to you, seeing as you're an adult. Do you have any questions so far?" she asked, looking at Casey.

"No," Casey said, looking at her hands, which were folded on her lap.

"OK, then. Why don't you head on down to breakfast and I'll see you at nine," Susan said, rising from her chair and collecting papers.

Casey nodded but said nothing. It occurred to her that she had no idea where the cafeteria was. Someone was going to have to show her around. "Um, excuse me?" she asked softly.

Susan stopped and turned. "Yes?"

"Can you tell me where the cafeteria is?"

Susan smiled warmly. "Of course. I assumed that you got the tour last night after checking in. Guess not, huh?"

Casey shook her head no and followed Susan out of the room to the cafeteria.

It was very much like any other cafeteria that you would see anywhere – long dark tables set against the stark brightness of white walls, with one whole wall a set of windows facing the front of the facility. She knew from going in that you could see out but not in.

Susan's voice sounded beside her. "OK, well, have at it. I have some things to attend to before we meet again, so I'll talk to you later."

Casey barely acknowledged her before moving forward to get in line. Her eyes scanned the room and she mentally counted around 45 people in the room, either eating or milling around in small groups. As informed last night by Dr. Felling, the others were all dressed in the sweat suits, same as her. She snorted to herself and grabbed a tray. They offered hot as well as cold breakfast, but Casey couldn't rustle up enough enthusiasm for that and grabbed a banana and some juice. She was already feeling the effects of withdrawal from nicotine and alcohol, and her mood was rapidly deteriorating. I gotta do 30 days of this? She wondered to herself before heading to an unoccupied table and plopping down. Casey slowly ate her banana and drank her juice, wondering what her family was doing.


Derek awoke to the sound of his cell phone ringing. "Lo?" he mumbled while rubbing his eyes.

"Hi Derek," his best friend Gwen's voice said in his ear.

He smiled. "Gwennie, what are you doing calling me at . . ." he looked at the clock on the bedside table next to him, "Eight in the morning?"

She laughed heartily on the other end. "Well, I figured if I had to get up for work, so should you," she paused before adding softly, "plus, I missed talking to you. How come you never call me anymore?" she asked with a whiny tone to her voice.

Derek rolled his eyes. "It hasn't been that long since we talked. Only a few days, right?"

"Uh, no, dipwad. Try two weeks!" Gwen said haughtily.

He sat up and swung his legs over the bed. "Really? Damn, I guess time has gotten away from me. It's been pretty crazy here."

Derek heard Gwen sigh on the other end. "Yeah, I know. How's Casey?"

He got up and started pacing in front of his bed. "Well, she checked into the rehab center last night, and she'll be there for a month. I can't see or talk to her for a week," he said, his chest tight.

Gwen made a clucking sound. "Damn, that's rough, but I'm sure they have their reasons for that."

"Yeah, I guess," he agreed half-heartedly. "So, what's been happening with you?"

"Well, not much. I'm still working at the hell hole, and Shelly and Amy are still driving me nuts," she said, referring to her roommates. "But other than that, things have been pretty quiet around here since you left."

Derek knew from the tone of his best friend's voice that she was unhappy with the circumstances. Sure, it had been her suggestion that he move back to London from Toronto, but it didn't mean she had to like it. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You should come visit," he said before thinking. Of course, he would love to see her, he just didn't know if now was the right time.

"Really?" she asked. "You want me to come to London?" Her voice had a touch of wonder in it, because as close as they were in college, she had never come home with him. They had done all their hanging out (and other things) in Toronto.

Derek gulped and tried to backtrack a little. "Well, I'd love to see you. I was thinking maybe you could come during holiday break or something," which was a good six months away, considering that school had just let out a few months before.

Gwen's voice was soft as she answered. "Derek, that's like six months away. I'm on break right now. I could come see you whenever you want."

He took a deep breath. "I know, babe, it's just . . . I don't think it's the right time now." He said lowly, hoping she would understand.

She did. "Whatever you think is best, hon. I just miss my best friend, is all. I mean, I have no one to listen to me bitch about my dates!"

Derek chucked at that. "Yeah, I've really missed hearing you bitch about men," he said with a smile, making her laugh in response.

"Well, I need to get to work, but I'll talk to you soon . . . right?" she asked, hoping to guilt him into calling her.

It worked. "Yeah, I'll call you in a few days, OK?" he said while burrowing through the pile of dirty clothes on his floor looking for something clean to wear.

"OK. I'll talk to you then," Gwen said, before adding, "Love you, babe."

Derek sat on his bed. "I love you too, Gwennie. Talk to you soon," he replied before hanging up. He sat there for a moment more, his thoughts on his best friend, before getting up and starting his day.


Five days later:

Casey sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair across from Susan. She was slouched down, her legs spread apart, her right foot tapping impatiently on the floor. "Now, Casey," Susan said, trying to catch Casey's eye, "Why do you think you need to be here?"

This question again? Casey thought to herself. They seemed to be going around in circles, her and Susan, and Casey didn't think that a darn thing was getting solved.

"Well, to answer your question again," Casey said somewhat snottily, "It wasn't actually me who wanted to come here, it was my family," she said, crossing her arms belligerently.

Susan's expression didn't change, but the tone of her voice did. "Casey, you're an adult, you could've said no to your family. Why did you decide to come here?"

Casey huffed out a breath. Dr. Coleman knew this already. Casey had spent the last five days explaining it to her. What was she, an idiot? "I came because I didn't want to disappoint my family," she paused then added under her breath, "and I figured that maybe there was something to their concern . . . about my behavior."

Susan nodded slightly, acknowledging Casey's statement. "Yes, let's go over again the period right after your mother died. That was when your behavior started to change, correct?"

Casey nodded imperceptibly. "Yes."

"Were there any signs of this behavior before your mother's passing?" Susan asked, scribbling something in Casey's chart.

"No, nothing," Casey said, looking over Susan's shoulder at the watercolor print on the wall.

"So, it would be fair to say that the catalyst for all this was your mother's death," Susan clarified, making Casey wince.

Well, duh. "That would be fair, yes," Casey said somewhat robotically. Already she was starting to speak like the doctors here. It was slightly disturbing.

"Casey," Dr. Coleman asked, making Casey's eyes jump to her. "Why do you think your behavior manifested itself in a self-destructive way? Instead of, say, excessive cleaning, or over-working? I mean, those are aspects of your personality too, isn't that correct?"

Casey fought not to lash out. "I don't know," she said exasperated. "This was a whole new thing. I mean, is anyone ever really ready to lose a parent?" Casey asked, fiddling with her hair.

Susan said nothing for a moment, instead studying Casey intensely as if trying to get into her head. Not even a week, and I'm sick of being shrunk, Casey thought derisively to herself. "How about the rest of the family?"

Casey straightened in her chair. "What about them?" she asked, her pulse picking up.

"Well, you're not the only one who was grieving. How did they handle it?"

Well, my little sister moved to New York and got knocked up, my other sister got sent away to live with her mother, and I started fucking my step-dad. Yeah, Casey thought that would go over really well. "It was hard," was all she said.

Susan nodded sympathetically. "Yes, I can only imagine."

Casey refrained from rolling her eyes. Her knee started bouncing and at that moment she would have given her right arm for a cigarette.

"Well, Casey, our time is up for now. I'll see you this afternoon at 1:30," Susan said, getting up and motioning for Casey to do the same.

Casey rose from the chair and went to the door. "Thank you," she said, without really meaning it. She looked at the clock on the way out and idly noted that she had a "free hour" to do whatever she wanted – within reason, of course. During free time, patients could rest, read, work out in the small gym they had set up, watch TV, listen to music, write letters or socialize in the "game room". Casey hadn't really talked to anyone since she'd been there, instead keeping to herself during lunch and free time. She did notice that some of the other patients had formed attachments and there were a few that seemed joined at the hip. Casey was a bit jealous at this – she wished she had someone to confide in, but she didn't want to make the effort to get to know anyone. She shrugged to herself and headed back to her room. She was planning on laying down with the book that Lizzie gave to her. It was a period romance – something that Casey used to love – back when everything was rosy and her mother was still alive. Now, she was having trouble getting into it, and she found herself snickering at the corny love scenes, knowing that real life was definitely not like that. Love at first sight? No such thing.

A half an hour later, Casey gave up on her book and moved to the window. The day was cloudy and the sky looked like it could open up at any moment. She glanced down into the alley and saw what looked like a few of the custodians from the center on break, judging from the way they were crowded in a circle smoking cigarettes.

Casey felt a pang of envy. God, how she wished she was down there sucking on a cigarette. She could almost taste the nicotine on her tongue. She continued to watch as the guys stood and chatted, occasionally laughing and good-naturedly hitting each other. They were all relatively young – Casey guessed they were college students working for tuition or maybe just guys who had no ambition other than to mop floors for the rest of their lives. She idly wondered if she could convince one of them to bum her a smoke sometime. Probably not, but she could try, right? She mentally made a note to corner one of them and ask (and maybe use some of her feminine charm) whether or not they'd be willing. Smiling to herself, Casey sat back down on the bed and turned on the TV, deciding to waste the time she had before lunch watching bad daytime programming.

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