Disclaimer: All characters recognized in the Faculty movie are under copyright of Robert Rodriguez and Dimension Films. The character Ulysses belongs to me.

-oOo-

Chapter 11 – Discovered

When Casey's alarm abruptly woke him up that morning and he realised it was a Sunday, he remembered smiling sleepily and making the effort to rise out of bed to dress. The sun was streaming pleasantly through the curtains and bringing a baking light into the small room.

Casey always looked forward to Sundays now. It was the one evening of the week that he and Grace had agreed to choose for their study-dates, since he had gladly offered to help her with her science work a good week ago.

At least it's better than that bastard Zeke doing it instead, he thought triumphantly. I can only imagine what sort of things he would teach her...

There's that jealous tone again, his dark thoughts sang.

Fuck you.

Casey rummaged through his wardrobe for a clean shirt to wear, pleased that the frustrating cut on his arm was slowly beginning to wear away from its scab.

It'll be gone soon, he told himself happily, a small rush of relief sweeping through him. It'll be gone and then you can forget that you even did it. It was such a bad idea...

Still, there wasn't any time to be pondering on things like that anymore. Casey was feeling a lot better these days, and since that Grace was no longer causing grief for him at school anymore but rather friendship, he could walk there feeling a little less strained. He wanted to have a decent time before he saw her in the evening. Whenever he always seemed to come across something that bothered him in the morning (or whenever) it affected his entire day.

Casey glanced across at the clock, noticing that it read eleven minutes past ten. He slumped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering what he could do until he had to leave. After all, it was a weekend, so no school. He had finished all of his homework the night before, so that was out of the question.

Sighing, he slid from his covers and sat himself in front of his computer, quickly turning it on and connecting himself up to the Internet. Perhaps Grace was online and he could instant message her. For some strange reason, he didn't really feel like chatting to anyone else but her. During their first study session, she had offered to give him a different form of contact:

"Here," she had smiled, placing the piece of paper in his hand eagerly. "Thought you might want this."

"What is it?" he had asked.

"My email address, silly," she had laughed, shoving him playfully. "It might be better than ringing you up at bastard hours of the morning."

Casey could remember blushing again. He had to stop doing that around her, and other girls as well. "T-thanks..."

Maybe it's because no one else has really bothered to give me their email address...he thought bitterly. Especially a girl...

Click. He tapped his fingertips around the keys on his board and opened up his instant messenger. He found to his surprise that Grace was in fact online, at this very moment. It struck him as a little odd...didn't girls usually sleep in extremely late on a weekend?

Oh, well, he told himself, shrugging in his seat and moving his cursor over her name. Why complain?

Hey, Grace, he wrote, all the while allowing himself to melt into the murky grey light radiating from his screen. Why aren't you asleep?

Hi, Casey, she replied, complete with a small smiley face in the corner. I guess I'm not tired, even though I didn't sleep too well last night.

Casey frowned. Really? Why not?

Just nervous, I guess, she replied. You know, about the test next week...

You'll be fine, he encouraged, rolling his blue eyes as he did so. She always seemed so worried about things such as that, when in reality Casey knew that she would finish the test with flying colours. It had only taken one study session to show him that she would have no problem.

Well, you're gonna have to help me real hard tonight, she wrote back, with a tiny winking face. And then you can prove me right.

Okay, he responded, a little too quickly. Same time as last week?

Yeah, seven, came her answer. I'll see you then. I gotta go now, my mom's on the warpath. Bye!

"Bye..." the boy whispered quietly to himself, before signing out from his computer, a tiny smile shimmering on his face.

-oOo-

"Where are you going?" Lorraine wondered aloud in amazement, watching Casey dash past her in the kitchen, grabbing his jacket and lacing up his sneakers at sometime around half past six that evening.

Casey chewed his lip, wishing that he could just escape without any annoying questions from his parents. He didn't want his mother to make a fuss about the whole ordeal, when he was simply helping a friend.

"N-nowhere," he mumbled out quickly. "Just to Grace's..."

"Grace?" Lorraine broke in, her voice sounding very enthusiastic. "So you're friends with her now, then?"

Casey felt himself sigh with exasperation. "Yeah...we're studying together for the test next week..."

"Oh, that's nice, isn't it?" his mother gushed, with a smile that made Casey wish that he could melt into a giant flesh-coloured puddle on the floor and disappear into it forever. "It's good that you're spending time with her, Casey; and she's such a sweet girl –"

"Bye, Mom," Casey said as he was leaving, shutting the door behind him. He could still hear his mother continuing to talk to no one as he sprinted down the driveway and headed towards Grace's block.

-oOo-

The eerie grey clouds brushed across the dark sky, smothering the stars and moonlight with its cloak and blocking them from sight. Casey had just managed to reach Grace's house by this point but it felt like hours since he had left his house to meet her.

He knocked quickly, glancing around the neighbourhood and secretly not wanting to be here for as long as he had to. Many a time he had been here he had often thought to himself that this seemed a rougher block than his own. What if a gang of random bullies chose this time to select him for their next midnight target practice?

Geez, you're paranoid, his thoughts shot back, taunting him. No wonder you always get the shit beaten out of you – you always look like you're hiding something.

A sudden loud barking made Casey almost fall backwards in shock as Grace's dog came bounding up to him as soon as the door was opened, standing on his sneakers and gazing at him with his enormous brown eyes.

Casey wasn't sure whether he should scream for help or to touch the thing. Instead he swallowed, struggling to get his heartbeat pulsing once more, and ended up smiling sheepishly at Grace when she finally managed to come to the door herself.

"Oh, shit – sorry!" she gasped, raking her fingers around her dog's collar and dragging him back inside the house. "Ignore Ulysses , He always does that whenever anyone comes to the door, he's a nightmare."

Casey clambered shakily to his feet. "...Yeah..." he agreed, awkwardly.

"Here," she laughed, taking him gently by the wrist and opening the door for him. "Are you thirsty?"

"A...little," answered Casey quietly, secretly cross with himself for allowing that dog to make such a fool out of him before he had even stepped inside the house. He attempted to force his blush away and sat down comfortably on the couch, waiting patiently for the drinks as Grace disappeared into the kitchen.

"Are you okay?" Her voice drifted into the room, sounding a little concerned. "That mutt didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Oh...no, I'm fine," the boy replied, sinking back into the cushions, shooting a dirty look at Ulysses , curled up in the corner, looking as contented as always with his breath escaping in traditional canine pants.

Stupid thing, he growled to himself. I never really liked dogs all that much, and this one's not helping the standard in my eyes.

"He just gets excited," said Grace in defence. "He's harmless, really."

"Mmm..." answered Casey, still glaring viciously in the dog's direction.

Harmless... he thought, tearing his sight away and staring down at his torn fingernails again, a lump forming in the bottom of his gut. I suppose now she thinks I'm an even bigger wuss than she already thinks I am...

"I'm so glad we're doing this now," Grace mentioned brightly, her dark eyes sparkling with a rare light that only Casey could see if he looked deep enough. "Every week, I mean."

The boy swallowed involuntarily. "Oh...? R-really?" he croaked, wishing he could slap himself.

"Yeah," she smiled. "You don't know how much I'm excelling, thanks to your amazing teaching! I'd be lost without you, Casey."

Lost without me? His cheeks were on fire. "N-no problem."

"Your arm looks better," the girl brought up kindly, although Casey couldn't help feeling that she was desperate to get off the topic. He found himself glancing down at the brown cast laced around it now, the sling forgotten a long time ago.

"Yeah," he sighed, sweeping relief flowing inside him. "I just have to wear this now. It doesn't hurt as much."

She chuckled softly; shortly. Although, unknown to Casey, she always felt a little uneasy talking to him now, more than she ever did. She spent many nights wondering why, but a spiteful little voice inside her often blamed these feelings on the fact that she spilled a dangerous secret to him not too long ago.

Why did I tell him that? she asked herself angrily, many times. How did he get me to tell him that? I've never told anyone else outside of my family...until now...how did he...?

She could remember gazing into his swirling, accusing blue eyes as he had spoken to her, in a voice so demanding and dominant that she had paid her full attention, and had been unwillingly swept up in that flood of messages once again:

I need to know...! Tell me...I have to know!

I want to know how to be strong, like you!

Tell me...

Tell me, bitch...!

"I...I didn't want to tell you about...my uncle," she said carefully, without looking at him. "It just...came out."

The silence struck painfully in all places of his body. The way she had said that...as if she were remembering something that had been locked away, and she had been too afraid to bring it up, until now.

He twiddled his fingers in his lap and took a deep breath, gazing at her intently. "I-it's okay," he whispered, his voice clogged tightly in his throat. "I'm...glad you told me."

Am I? he scoffed to himself, reluctantly imagining Grace as a young girl – like she was in that photograph – being abused and terrorised by that monster, right under her own roof and in front of her parent's veiled eyes. Why am I glad she told me? I would have preferred it if she had kept it to herself, but...she looked so miserable...fuck...

Just the thought of it made him sick to his stomach. "Are you okay about it?" he squeaked out, hoping that he sounded encouraging rather than concerned. "You know, if you want to talk to me about it..."

"It's okay," she giggled softly, sitting back in her chair. "It's over now. I don't need to talk about it."

She doesn't need to talk about it, Casey thought, unhappily. But does she want to talk about it? Perhaps she's trapped inside, wanting to tell someone how she felt when it was happening, what she thought about doing...

But in the end, he closed his mouth and said nothing. If Grace wanted to talk about it, she would have probably done something about it by now. Instead, she chose to push the whole event to the back of her mind. She seemed happy, anyway.

"...Okay," Casey said carefully, nodding in her direction. "If that's fine with you."

"You're a lot more understanding than my parents were," she replied quietly, after a short silence. "It seemed like all they ever wanted to do was make me tell everyone what had happened."

"Parents can be like that." Casey wasn't even aware that he had said that out loud until he heard the girl's mumbled approval.

"I know exactly what you mean," she sighed. "After...you know, he left, it was as if I were a fucking time-bomb, or something...just waiting to explode. They just...wanted me to get help, you know? Medical help. I just felt like a nutcase in their eyes."

How is it...that I can relate so much to what she's saying? Casey wondered, listening intently to her, picturing the same reactions that he always received from his family. I always feel strange in their eyes too, as if they're not pleased with me...as if they want to change me...

"But I'm not depressed, or anything!" she suddenly blurted out, staring directly into his eyes. He noticed that hers burned with a small segment of desperation and he glanced away without realising it. "I keep telling them I'm fine – that I'm over it now...but do they believe me? Humph."

Grace slumped in her seat, playing with a few small strands of her dark hair while she sat there, an intense expression clouding her face. She seemed to be thinking very hard about something.

"I'm fine," she whispered to herself, in a somewhat broken voice.

No you're not. Not really. Those were the words that the boy wanted to say. He watched her now, squirming uncomfortably in her chair and chewing fervently at her bottom lip with her teeth, as if she were reliving a terrible flashback.

"Grace...?"

"So!" she almost screamed out, perking upright with a tight smile stretched across her face. "I heard something in your tone earlier when you said that you agreed with me. Are your parents as bad as mine?"

Casey almost flinched at how fake and plastic that her laugh sounded.

"Maybe even worse," he decided to say, noticing – from her – the almost eager need for him to respond with a "yes". "You're right...they don't really...encourage me enough, you know? Like...if I ever did something wrong...it almost feels as if they're ashamed that I messed up, rather than, say...they never make me feel better about myself."

Grace bit her lip. "I see."

I don't want her feeling sorry for me, Casey thought miserably. I want her to see that I can deal with this by myself. That look...the look that she's giving me now...almost as if I'm an abused child...I feel so pathetic...

"Anyway," he continued, trying to brush it off, as if it meant nothing (when, in fact, it meant everything). "Aren't all parents like that? They always want you to be someone else, don't they?"

Grace shrugged lightly, her gaze casting downward at the question. "I...I'm not sure." Her voice was small and quiet.

"But," said Casey, almost to himself after some thought. "I have noticed...that sometimes, they can be so overbearing...and smothering, it's enough to make you want to hide from the world forever. But then...other times, it's as if they don't even know you're alive. And they just...don't give a fuck about you."

"Aww, you're just difficult," Grace giggled, but then glanced up sharply at him, hearing the break in his words. There seemed to be so much pain there...that had been bottled up inside of him for so many years. Now, releasing it at last seemed difficult. The truth was hurting him.

"Casey?" she asked kindly, staring into his eyes. "Are you okay?"

No. No...I'm not. I haven't been for years. Grace...make me better...look at me...tell me that you want to help me...make me happy to still be alive...make me want to carry on...

"Yeah," he croaked, pushing the matter aside and turning his head away before she could see the messages of his heart floating around in his damaged eyes. "Sure. I'm okay. Why?"

The girl sighed, wanting to clear her lips of her broken smile. "No reason. Come on. We'd...better get started."

-oOo-

Although Grace had told him of her progress earlier, Casey was both surprised and pleased to discover just how quickly his "student" had caught on to the work. She was doing much better than the previous week, and Casey knew that at this rate then she would pass the module for certain.

At least I don't feel so useless now, he smiled to himself, marking more of her answers correct. If this is working, then maybe I'm finally doing something right for someone.

Grace peered over his shoulder as he sat there with her question sheet. "Wow. I'm good," she beamed.

For what felt like the sixth time that evening, Casey had wanted to deliberately bash his knee against the table leg as punishment for blushing at that moment. How could he be feeling like this? All he was doing was helping a friend out. How could he act like such an idiot around friends?

"You only got two wrong," he managed to murmur out, passing her sheet back to her with a small smile.

"Go me," she laughed, placing it on the coffee table beside her feet. "Better than last week – two right. Holy Hell, I sucked."

Stop blushing...stop it, you moron...why do you keep doing this to yourself – it's fucking stupid! Body heat rushed into his face and he felt his fingers twitching against the pencil he was gripping. He let it drop to the floor.

Grace smirked, scooping it up. "Hey, what's up with you?"

"J-just tired," Casey lied, brushing the innuendo from his mind and getting to his feet. "Maybe we should take a break...?" It was an almost desperate plea.

"Sure," she smiled, clambering into the nearest chair and sinking into it. "My brain needs a break from all the effort."

"Me too," he replied quickly, placing the sheets onto the table and scuttling onto the couch.

"What for, doofus?" she giggled, rolling her eyes in his direction. "I bet it takes you five minutes to do the stuff I've done in a half hour! Your brain's taking it easy."

You wanna bet? The thoughts continued to maul his pride onto the floor over and over again, relishing in the pain and embarrassment that rushed through Casey's mind.

He shrugged clumsily, as if trying to brush the subject off. "Well, at least that gives me more of a chance to help you," he mumbled out, his eyes on the ground.

"True," the girl grinned.

She's smiling at you... Dark voices caused him to grind his teeth together with closed lips, silently praying for them to disappear before he started "talking to himself" again.

Fuck you. She always smiles.

And you notice this? How much do you fucking watch her, anyway?

It's...hard not to...

Why's that, pervert?

Shut up.

You like her, just admit it.

Bullshit! As if I would!

What? Admit it?

Just shut the fuck up.

Get over it! You know she'd never like a weak little piece of shit like you. Keep dreaming. It's the same situation with that Profitt bitch. You always want what you can't have.

However much the boy wanted to deny it to himself, he couldn't help but face the truth about what he was thinking. The voices were right...He was no more than a cockroach in Delilah's eyes, and Grace was probably no different. Although she wanted to be friends, some part of Casey still felt that she was befriending him out of pity, because no one else would.

"You okay?" he heard Grace question him loudly, as if this wasn't the first time she had tried to ask him. "I know you get tired of that, but you really don't look good."

Casey snapped his head up. "Huh?"

"What's up?" Grace said kindly, tilting her head to one side, as if trying to view him from a different angle. "You've gone real quiet."

"I-it's nothing...really," Casey stammered out, feeling ill at how fragile his voice sounded. "I just...don't feel that well, all of a sudden...I think I should go back..."

Grace blinked. "What? Now?"

"Yeah...you've done great this week...besides, it's getting dark outside..."

"Right," she whispered, cheerfully climbing up from the couch and standing beside him. "I'll guess I'll see you tomorrow at school, then?"

"Yeah, probably." Casey cringed at the word "school". How he hated that hellhole. Every week always felt like a lifetime, whereas a weekend – to him – barely felt like ten minutes.

"Don't worry about it," the girl mumbled, as if she could suddenly read his thoughts. "Just look for me. I'll protect you."

"W-wha...?"

He barely had enough time to breathe before her arms were around him again, pulling him close into a friendly hug. Taken aback, Casey returned it, but something inside him still stung from the words she had said.

"I'll protect you..."

Because I'm weak...

"Sure," he sighed, his heart sinking. "Whatever."

-oOo-

Picking his feet up on the way home seemed like such an effort to Casey. His legs felt as if they weighed a ton each, and besides, even if he could lift them, the will to do so was lost. It was practically scattered on the breeze.

After everything...everything... he thought bitterly, and she still thinks I'm a weakling. Is that why she's my friend? She's here to protect me? To be my bodyguard?

He growled into the dusk, kicking a lone stone into the gravelled street. "Fuck that."

That's the last thing I need. A girl looking out for me.

Told you, the voices taunted. She feels sorry for the poor, weak little nobody. The one with no friends. It's like adopting one of those abandoned animals at the shelter that no one wants.

Casey didn't feel as if he had enough dignity to respond. After all, he was thinking the same thing. Why deny it?

I'll just be glad to get home and hide in my room until tomorrow, he told himself, wishing the taste of bile would escape from his mouth. Perhaps then I can hide it out until it feels better.

It was around nine o'clock by the time he managed to reach his front door. The neighbourhood felt strangely quiet, which was unusual for him. There was often some house blasting loud rock music through the ceiling or a rabid dog barking its lungs out.

He didn't appreciate the change. It gave him a bad feeling.

Frowning to himself, he opened the door and stepped into the hallway. It was quiet in the house, too. He could hear the faint muffle of the news reporter on the television, but it sounded as if there was no one else home.

Did they go out? he wondered, feeling very confused. Why didn't they let me know? And if they did, why'd they leave the T.V on? No way would Dad ever waste power like this...

"I'm home," he called out, to see if anyone would answer. No one did.

However, all suspicions were erased as he stepped into the living room. He saw his parents seated on the couch, staring blindly at the television. Casey got the strange impression that they weren't even paying attention to it. The lights were dimmed, casting cold shadows across the ceiling and floor. They didn't seem to notice that they were practically sitting in darkness.

"I'm back," he announced. They didn't even look up.

What the fuck? Why...are they ignoring me? Am I invisible or something?

He cast his gaze across to his mother, who was curled up in the seat furthest away from her son. Her head was in her hand as she stared absent-mindedly at the screen, chewing violently on her lip. She looked as if she had been crying. Her eyes were swollen from previous tears.

Casey felt his stomach churn. "Mom? What's wrong?"

She didn't move.

Someone...anyone...talk to me – say something! Don't just sit there like I've fucking died or something! Talk to me!

"Dad?" he asked, a little louder this time. "What's going on?"

Did they have a fight, or something? Casey wondered, hoping they hadn't. Why the hell isn't anyone saying anything?

He almost jumped a foot into the air when Frank seemed to come to life. He arose coolly to his feet, striding over towards his son. His dark eyes seemed cold; distant...and yet brimming with a spark of fresh anger.

Casey felt himself backing off a little, although he wasn't sure why. He had never been given much appreciation by his father, yet here he was, moving away, thinking he was going to be struck.

Would Dad really hit me? he thought madly, as his father came closer, his jaw tightly set. Well – shit! What did I even do anyway!

"Dad –"

"Give me your arm." It was an order, but yet it sounded very threatening. It sounded as if Frank's vocal cords had suddenly been turned to steel.

Casey felt himself go cold and then white-hot all at once. What the fuck? What for – is he gonna break my arm?

"Dad, what the –?"

Without another word, Frank lunged at him, grabbing at his good arm with a strong grip and yanking it towards him, practically pulling the confused boy over onto his face.

"Show me your Goddamn arm, now!"

"Dad – hey!" Casey cried out, his voice breaking a little as he struggled to release himself from the sudden robot his father seemed to have transformed into. "Let me g – Ow! Dad – stop it...you're hurting me!"

"Frank!" Lorraine's teary warning reached Casey's ears. It was faint to him, as if it were coming from a thousand miles away and it would be of no use.

Then a horrible crushing feeling came alive in his chest and his head felt lighter as he felt the sleeve of his jacket being pulled back, revealing the pale skin beneath the material.

And the scar from the cut.

Shit.

He stared at it, for what must have felt like an eternity. No one moved, nor said anything. Casey still felt the whole scene sinking in, as if he were imagining this was nothing more than a mere dream – a horrible dream – which he would wake up from at any given second.

"Dad..." he started, his heart pounding in his chest at the discovery. "Dad, I –"

"Did you do this?" Frank's voice had returned to the calm, metallic tone he had first greeted his son with. It held anger, shock, and was tinted with disappointment.

Casey froze. He couldn't tell them that! How could he tell them that he had inflicted injury on himself, just to make the problems go away? It hadn't worked, but they were never meant to find out! Never! He had never prepared himself for this...for this...

"Dad..."

"Answer the question, son," his father snapped, his grip becoming firmer.

Out of the corner of his eye, Casey noticed that his mother had buried her head in her hands; shielding her face. The teenager wasn't sure if she had done so to avoid watching the conflict happening in her house, or because at that moment she had promptly begun to cry once more.

What should I say...? Casey thought wildly, feeling his shoulders begin to tremble as he stared into Frank's demanding scowl. What the fuck should I say...?

The silence was almost deafening to him. The slight sniff coming from his mother was the only sound, aside from the crackling of the television. The lights dimmed all the more, throwing himself into shadow.

Grace...what should I do...? What should I say...?

What the fuck do I do...!

"...Yeah," he found himself whispering, in a broken voice. "Yeah...I did."