Disclaimer: This is the last time I'm doing this unless I come up with something funny. But for the last time DISNEY does not own LWD, POPE PRODUCTIONS does. I'm sorry for having to point that out, it's just that us Canadians need to tell everyone else whose Canadian. Like Mike Myers. Or Our Lady Peace. Or basketball (while it was invented in America, a Canadian by the name Dr. James Naismith invented it. Betcha didn't know that. Betcha didn't even care.) Though America can keep Pam Anderson. She scares me.

AN: Yes, I know this took a bit longer than I thought it would. Heck, it took a lot longer than I thought it would. The only reason I finished it is because my sister followed me around the house yelling 'Write dammit, write' and saying that all the people who read this are very angry at me. So I finished it to shut her up (she was very annoying). If only it lasted for longer than ten minutes. Since so many people liked the reference in the title I made two chapters back (and I'm a big fan of Gilmore Girls and Lost) I've included some cultural references in the story and explain them at the end of the chapter. I'd suggest finishing the chapter then going back to understand the references you didn't get. Well, I think I've rambled on for enough so enjoy the chapter!

I dedicate this chapter to my sister, may she rest in peace. (In my defence, there should be a warning on pans that say if you hit someone with it it may cause death. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.)


Casey felt like she was the main attraction at a freak show. Everyone was staring expectantly, waiting for her to explain what the hell was going on. The problem was, Casey didn't know where to begin. In the three minutes since she had hung up the phone she had opened and closed her mouth seventeen times, brushed her hair back twelve times, brought her hair forward eleven times, twisted her hands together six times, and had moved two steps towards the table.

"Could we hurry this up?" Amanda asked. Both Angela and Sarah gave her a look, though Angela's was a look of anger while Sarah's was more of boredom than anything else. Amanda had moved into the dining room and was leaning against the back of the couch beside Sarah while Angela sat in Nora's vacant seat. Amanda glared back at Angela, her disapproval of Angela's handling of the situation apparent on her face. Angela slid her eyes over to Casey and smiled.

"Ignore her. She thinks a lack of social manners makes her cool." Amanda scoffed but no one paid attention to her as they were all focused on Casey. She gave a weak smile and brushed her hair forward for the twelfth time.

"Um…well…you see." She faltered. She had spent so many years hiding the first six years of her life that she was finding it hard to put it into words. That and the fact that she was scared shitless.

Casey opened her mouth for the eighteenth time. She paused, then said in a low voice. "I've never told anyone the entire story. I don't know where to start."

"It's always best to start at the beginning."

Casey gave a chocked laugh and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know how it started. I wasn't there."

Angela sighed. "Then just tell us what you know."

Casey nodded. "Okay, my name is…God, I sound like I'm introducing myself at an addict meeting…my birth name is Natasha Delaney; Lizzie's is Juliana, Mom's is Rosemarie and my dad…my dad." She paused, staring at the table as if she could see something they all couldn't. She furrowed her brow, then looked up.

"They looked like the perfect couple, you know? They'd smile at the right time and laugh at the right time. They weren't exactly the Cleavers but they were close. Some of the time. And then sometimes, it would get bad. Nothing we did was ever enough for him no matter how hard we'd try. And it was little things, not big things. The-the dishes not being done, dinner not being ready on time, my clothes not matching. Little things. And when he got mad," Casey trailed off, her face unreadable as she once again stared off into space. Lizzie had a feeling that she didn't want to know the answer, but she had to ask.

"What happened when he got mad?"

Casey didn't answer her. She just stared at Lizzie, wondering which path to chose. She knew that Lizzie looked up to her, that everyone thought that out of the two sisters Casey had the better life. It was only Casey who knew that it was reversed, that Lizzie had the better life while hers was screwed up. She didn't want to ruin Lizzie's innocence, to forever change her view of the world. But could she really continue lying, spinning one story after another especially to her sister? And really, wasn't this the end already and she was just prolonging the evitable?

"When he got mad he would hit…us." Casey said. It felt like a giant boulder rolled off her shoulders. This was what she was afraid of? Words? What could memories do? She felt elated. But the same weight that had fallen off Casey's shoulders was transplanted onto everyone else's. Well, except for the intruders, Marti and George. The intruders felt sorry but didn't really care, Marti knew that hitting was wrong but thought Casey was talking about the smacks that she gave Dimi and George felt numb. He probably wouldn't have reacted even if Casey had said they were aliens from another planet. But for the rest Casey's weight had become their weight, dragging them under the surface. Emily and Sam felt acutely out of place, like a meat lover at a vegetarian convention or Flight Plan as an in-flight movie. This should be a family moment and no matter how many times they had eaten dinner at the MacDonald-Venturi household they weren't family. Edwin and Derek felt nauseated that people they cared about at had been witnesses to abuse, had been so violated by someone who was supposed to protect them.

And Lizzie laughed.

"That's all you got? That's it? Have you met Mom? She believes in equal rites and standing up for what you believe in! Mom would never put up with…that!" Lizzie found it hard to say the actual word 'abuse', seeing as it had no relevance in her life. But whether it was Casey's grim face, the recent revelation that her birth name was not the name she had grown up with or the kaleidoscope of memories that assaulted her brain, the seeds of doubt began to sprout in her mind.

'Marti, no matter how many times Dimi calls you a dumb head you should never hit him.'

'You're grounded Derek! I don't care who started it or what the other person said, violence is never the answer. You don't get into fights and you never hit someone! Ever!'

'You're dad and I we had some…problems, and we couldn't stay married. I know you want to meet him Lizzie but he's not ready to be a father. I know it seems unfair but I don't want to see him until he's ready. And I don't know if that's ever going to happen.'

"He did Lizzie. He used to…push her if she wasn't doing what he wanted. And he would yell at her and call her names and hit her. And me. But mostly her because she didn't like when he hit me and I was able to stay out of his way easier than Mom. Or maybe she stayed so he would hit her and not me. I don't know. And then she had enough so we left." Casey paused to take a breath because she had talked so fast she had neglected to breath. It felt weird to say those words aloud, to acknowledge them. She stared around the table, trying to gauge everyone's expression. They were all the same, shock and horror. And they had just gotten the basics.

"She just left? Just like that?" Amanda question, scepticism present in her face. Casey sighed. She really was starting to dislike her.

"So I can't get away with the Reader's Digest version?"

"Like I said before, ignore her. She's not a people person." Angela said with a smile. Casey gave her a small smile back. Maybe this was all over, they would just bring her mom back and everything would just go back to the way that it was.

"So we're good?" Casey asked hesitantly.

"Sure." Angela chirped.

"So…you're bringing my mom back?" Casey hope deflated as the smile faded off Angela's face.

"Oh honey, no."

"Why not?

"Because you're mom kidnapped you." Amanda curtly said.

"I told you, because he hit us and my mom wanted to protect us!" Casey exclaimed.

"She still kidnapped you. The end never justifies the means." Amanda said in a bored tone.

"I think the quote is 'The end doesn't justify the means.'" Sarah corrected. Amanda looked over at her and narrowed her eyes.

"I know that. I changed the quote the emphasize that fact that I believe that just because someone has a reason for committing a crime doesn't make their actions right."

"But what about those people who get off on murder charges by pleading self-defence?" Angela pointed out.

"That's different. If it's a choice between being killed or killing someone else then the person shouldn't be as heavily punished."

"But what if a starving man has a choice between stealing a piece of bread or starving to death?" Sarah asked.

"Then they should go to jail."

"But the starving man has to make a choice between life or death. The only difference is that if the man steals the bread no-one dies; unless the bread was mouldy. And then couldn't the store owner be charged for murder because he supplied the murder weapon?" Sarah tilted her head as if she was actually pondering the imaginary situation.

Casey stared at them. Out of all the people who had to come and ruin her life, she got the Three Stooges. It figured.

"Hi! My mom was right to take us. You don't know the whole story. Can I continue?" she asked

"May I continue." Angela corrected. "Sorry. Habit" she apologized under the questioning stares from Amanda and Sarah.

"Okay. Well, my dad would hit my mom, especially if he was drunk or angry. He liked to control everything and if something happened that wasn't what he wanted he would explode. And my mom would wear sunglasses and long-sleeved shirts even in the summer to cover the bruises on her wrist from when he grabbed her to get her to do what he wanted her to do. And she wore concealer everyday. She went through bottles the way that Imelda Marcos went through shoes. And he would call her names or shout at her for hours and she never did anything. She just…took it, like she didn't really care, like it didn't matter." Casey quietly stopped,

"Can you tell us what happened when your mom took you?" Angela questioned.

"It's complicated."

"We have time." Amanda started to protest, but was silenced by a death glare from Angela.

"Well," Casey started. She crossed her arms over her chest, as if this would stop the assault on her life. "There was this…room"

"A room?" Angela prodded.

"It was more like a closet. Well, a closet/room thingy. They would store things in there and the floor was like cement and it was cold and dark and scary and I didn't like going in there. And my dad knew that I didn't like going in there and he told me…he said that if I was bad he would put me in there and shut the door and the spiders would come and spin a web around me so I couldn't move and then they would eat me."

Casey audibly swallowed. She hated thinking about that room, about how when the door was shut it was so dark you couldn't see your hand in front of your face and how the cold seemed to permeated every pore of her body and suck up all the warmth that used to be there. She hated that room even after all these years and hated that it still had the power to scare her.

"Did your dad put you in that room?" Angela question cut through Casey's thoughts. Everyone waited for her answer, most already having guessed the answer but not wanting to believe that someone could be that cruel to their own daughter. Lizzie felt like she was going to be sick right there at the dinner table, just vomit all over the remnants of their forgotten dinner. And her queasiness only got stronger when Casey slowly nodded.

"We were having breakfast, or lunch, I can't remember. It was just the two of us and he was reading over some papers from work, and I spilled my juice all over them." It was scary how clear the memory was, how clearly she could see the fluid spreading like a flood over the table, soaking the papers and turning them red. She tightened her arms across her chest before continuing.

"He grabbed my arm and twisted it up." Casey unconsciously demonstrated, twisting her right arm up so her elbow was practically level with her shoulder and past her back. It made even George feel nauseous, a sliver of disgust run through the haze of his mind as he watched Casey move her arm in a way that seemed painful if she did it to herself, let alone having someone do that to her. "He threw me in there and said when I learned how to behave I could come out. He locked the door so I couldn't open it. I waited for a while but he didn't come back." Waited was the wrong word. Screamed was a better word. Cried, pleaded, begged were better words as she had done all of those in an attempt to free herself, before she had submitted to what she thought was an imminent death.

"After a while I heard Mom come home and start to call for me. I started to bang on the door and I guess she heard me because she came to the door. They were screaming at each other and I think she was trying to open the door because the knob was rattling. Then…I guess he got really mad at her because I heard a loud thump and they stopped yelling. He opened the door and grabbed me and I saw Mom. He…she was on the ground beside the wall and I guess he had punched her because her lip was bleeding and I think she hit the wall. He grabbed me and said something like 'Here, take her. I don't care' and kind of threw me at her. She picked me up and took me upstairs and a couple of days later we left him." The silence once again reclaimed the room but it was now heavy with the cries of a child and the regret of a scared woman. Casey had the fleeting thought that she should name the silence, since it had turned up so much it deserved its own name.

"Hmm" Angela murmured. Only her and Amanda remained unaffected by Casey's recollection. Having seen the worst that society has to offer one abusive father did not change their world.

"What?" Casey questioned

"Well, it's just that you seem to have a very good memory of something that happened over ten years ago."

"I can remember a lot from that time. I can remember what I was wearing when we left, how my mom acted, how cold it was."

"Cold?" Amanda dryly interrupted.

"Yeah. Why?"

Amanda sighed and glared at Casey. "Could you stop wasting our time! Your mom kidnapped you in June. It's not cold in June."

Casey gave a small chuckle and a weary smile. "That's just the first time she took us. We have yet to go through the divorce. You wanted the whole story; I figured I'd give it to you. I'm leaving out all the times that she stayed, I figured they weren't all that important unless you want to hear those also?" She finished with a cynical smile that chilled everyone to the bone. The Casey that was standing in front of them wasn't Casey-the-friend, Casey-the-sister or even Casey-the-foe. This was Casey-the-cynic, a girl who knew first hand the evil that the world had to offer and wasn't willing to be hurt again. This wasn't some sick joke or elaborate story that she made up for attention. This was real life, this had actually happened and it could only go downhill.

Angela gestured with her hand that Casey should continue. Casey took in a deep breath to calm her queasy stomach that accompanied every memory of her dad.

"My mom moved in with her parents and in the divorce he got custody of us. Well, he basically got everything and left her with nothing but anyways. One night," Casey paused again, an action that Lizzie found extremely irritating, and turned to Lizzie "I think you had an ear infection because I think you were tugging on your ear. Anyways, you were crying and Dad was trying to get you to be quiet but you wouldn't stop crying. He was in hallway walking up and down and when I came out of my room he wasn't really bouncing you but…shaking you. And the louder you cried the harder he would shake you, which made you cry louder. And," Casey lifted her head, a distressed look on her face "I just wanted him too stop shaking her. Her head was going back and forth and I knew that he was hurting her." She begged as if she needed to be forgiven. "I started tugging on his shirt trying to get him to give her to me. He got mad at me and hit me, then grabbed me by my shirt and threw me out of the way. Except-except when he threw me I fell down the stairs. I hit like every step on the way down and I broke my arm and twisted my leg. And when my mom came to the hospital I begged her to take us away and a couple of weeks later she did. So there. You wanted the whole story, you wanted every crummy detail. Are you happy now?" she bitterly spat at them, her arms so tightly braced against her body her nails were pressed into her arms.

"Why didn't you tell someone?" Angela quietly asked as she examined the paper in front of her. "A social worker came to see you in the hospital. Why didn't you tell them? I'm just curious." A look of horror passed over Casey's face before she lowered her gaze to the floor. Lizzie knew that she was hiding something but right then she didn't care. She wished that her sister had kept her secrets, had spared her from this. She really wanted to throw up but her body seemed frozen and refused to what she wanted it to do.

"He said he'd kill her." Casey's quiet voice blasted through Lizzie's thoughts. "When we were in the car I told him that I was going to tell my mom and we'd go to live with her and he said," Casey looked up from the floor, unshed tears in her eyes. "He said that if I told anyone then he would kill Lizzie, that it would be so easy and no one would find out but Mom would know and she'd hate me forever because it would be my fault. I didn't know that I could tell and Lizzie wouldn't get hurt. She was all I had left and I didn't want to lose her. So you can't send us back. It's not right and I wont let him hurt us again."

Okay, now Lizzie was sure that she'd throw up. Her life had been threatened? By her own father? This just seemed like one of those T.V movies that were on late at night where the kid either over came a great childhood tragedy to become someone famous or killed everyone in a bloodbath worthy of Quentin Tarantino.

Casey was just mad. She wanted to kick and scream until she had no energy left and then take a long hot bath. She didn't want to stand there like an animal on display and she didn't want to see the reactions of people that she cared about. Emily's eyes were wide and shining with unshed tears, Derek was studying the table as if it was a famous painting (or a naked model knowing Derek), Sam had paled to the point that he looked like a marshmallow with yellow yarn on it and Edwin's mouth had dropped open. Casey didn't want to look at George. He had never been very good at hiding his feelings and she didn't want to know if he was going to stand by her mom or leave her. She had always closed herself off to feeling anything for her stepfamily (or so she told herself) but she didn't want George to divorce her mom, for her mom's sake. And Lizzie's, not hers.

"Is-that it?" Sarah slowly asked, unsure what to do now with the evening's drastic turn.

"Sure." Casey responded. She gazed at the ceiling, hoping that focusing on something else besides the silence would distract her from her shitty childhood. It was only the distinct beeping sounds that pulled her out of her daze.

"What are you doing?" Casey asked Sarah. It was only when she looked up that Casey was able to see that she was holding a cell phone. A stab of fear ran through her body. There was only one person Sarah would need to call but still…

"Who are you calling?" Please don't be him, please don't, please. But the look of pity that crossed her face confirmed her greatest fear.

"Your father."

"You can't!" Casey exploded. Nonononono.

"He has to know you are alright. He's still your father." Angela tried to do damage control. It wasn't working. Casey started to wring her hands together and hyperventilate.

"Why? You're not going to give us back to him are you? You can't do that, you take children out of abusive situations, not back into them!"

"Your dad had custody of you and your sister when you left so he still has custody of you. You can try and get emancipated or something like that but it has to be decided in Houston and your dad needs to know what's going on." Angela told her

"Why can't we just stay here? I mean, why do we have to go to foster care. You took my mom away so there's no chance that she's going to take us and leave and George is here so you'd be leaving us with a responsible adult. The judge has to side with my mom anyways and we'll come back here so there's no point in moving us if we're going to be coming right back!" Casey pleaded.

"The judge may side with your mother and award her custody but right now your dad has custody. And until the court hearing IN HOUSTON to decide custody you are the wards of the state of Texas." Angela saw the sour look and made a quick and slightly un-orthodox decision. "Look, this isn't normally done but I could allow you to stay here until you are sent back to Houston, under the condit…" Angela held up her hand to quiet Casey's 'Really?' "Under the condition that your dad agrees to let you stay here."

"What!"

"If your dad agrees to let you stay here, then I will allow it. But only if your dad agrees."

"He's never going to let us stay here! He got mad when Mom talked to other men, he's never going to let us stay with her new husband!"

"Then you will be going to foster care until custody is settled. We've arranged homes both here and in Houston where you and your sister can stay."

"You can't just send us to Houston. We're Canadian citizens and we want to stay here!" Casey knew it wasn't a very good argument but she had never been the kind of person to go down without a fight. Angela just sighed and placed her chin in her hand as if arguing with her took too much energy.

"You're not Canadian citizens. Your legal names were not put on your citizenship papers which makes them invalid."

'Great' Casey thought. Just another thing she had to lose. "What about George. He's our step-dad. Doesn't he have any say in this?" As soon as those words left her mouth Casey knew something was wrong. A look of guilt crossed Angela, Sarah and even Amanda's face as if they knew something that she didn't. A knot started to form in her stomach as they exchanged glances as if deciding who wanted to destroy their lives further. After what seemed like forever but was really only a couple of seconds Amanda focused her steely eyes on Casey.

"Ever since your mother kidnapped you she's been using the name Nora Macdonald. She never legally changed her name therefore any document that has that name on it is … invalid."

"Huh?" Casey asked. She had a sick feeling that she knew where this was going.

"It means we're not married. Legally." came George's quiet confirmation.


AN: Dum Dum Dum. Okay here's the cultural reference notes.

Pandora's Box- In Greek mythology Pandora was the first female. She was given extreme curiosity and a box from the gods. When her curiosity got the best of her she opened the box and released all the miseries of mankind—greed, vanity, slander, envy, pining—leaving only hope inside. It releates to LWD because once Casey tells what her dad did she can't take it back, just like Pandora couldn't take back mankinds miseries.

The Cleavers- They were the parents in the show 'Leave it to Beaver.' Basically, the mom wore pearls and high heels when doing housework, the dad came home promptly at 6 and hung his hat on the coat rack and every problem was solved in a nauseating display of family togetherness. I saw one episode. It scared me more than Michael Jackson's new nose (Well, no. Nothing is scarier than that)

Flight Plan- A 2005 movie staring Jodie Foster about a woman who loses her kid on a plane but everyone thinks she's crazy and she doesn't have a kid. I wont ruin the movie for you, so I'll just say that you don't want to see it on a flight.

Reader's Digest- A magazine that is published with condensed articles instead of full length ones. (I personally read it for the jokes scattered through-out. Wow, I sound like those people who say they read Playboy for the articles)

Three Stooges- A group of (three at one time, but more were added after some originals died) vaudeville preformers that are best known for their extremely physical slapstick comedy, mixed in with one-liners and some kind of outrageous plot. (My dad tried doing a Three Stooges sketch with his sister. He hit her in the eye and cause her to get a black eye. And he wonders why she doesn't visit all that often)

Imelda Marcos- She is a former First Lady of the Phillippines who when she was exiled and her closets raided a huge amount of shoes was found. Like, over a couple thousands by the people's count, around a thosand by hers. Though if anyone has over even a hundred shoes they have way too much money. Or need to clean their house.

Quentin Tarantino- An American filmmaker who likes to use an excessive amount of violence in his films, especially Kill Bill Vol. 1 and 2. (I suggest watching those movies, just not while eating. I made that mistake and it was hard to to finish my dinner. Hard, but not impossible.)