Nick:
When I was nine, I loved riding my bike, reading comic books and picking on my five older sisters. My best friend was my dog because my older brother was so much older than I was. I grew up trusting people; I thought people were basically good.
I was wrong.
It had been a really long week and I knew that my parents were going to have to go out for the evening. I don't even really remember where it was they were going. All I remember is that the woman who normally came over to sit with us when my older siblings were going to be gone too had some sort of family emergency and so my mom got a last minute babysitter.
I never knew someone that pretty could hurt you so much; make you so ashamed for something they did to you. I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone; it was only years later that I told Catherine what had happened and even then it was only because she threatened to pull me from a case. My parents still have no idea and I hope that I never tell them. I think it would devastate them that two people that have dedicated their lives to upholding the law couldn't protect their youngest son when he was the most vulnerable.
Nine was too young to lose my innocence; it was too young to grow up and have to face things that no child should ever have to deal with. And so I did my best to try and distract myself from the pain inside of me that was so strong at times that I thought it would suffocate me. After a while, the memories faded a little; not enough to ever forget, but enough to get on with my life, enough to see that I could use that experience to make a difference in the world.
I think I still want to believe that people are basically good, but deep down I know that most people are out for themselves. I may seem like I'm a people person, but inside it's so hard for me to truly connect with people unless I've known them a really long time. Sometimes I wonder if anyone really knows the real me. I know now that people that are sexually abused as children tend to be more promiscuous as adults if they don't get some sort of therapy. I see that in myself and it's something that I'm really trying to work on. I think after Kristy Hopkins was murdered I realized that I needed to take a deeper look at myself and see where my life was headed.
I wasn't forced to really deal with that until I was buried alive. I had plenty of time to think in that coffin; plenty of time to realize that life is just too damn short and whether people hurt you or not, you have to keep on living.
I may have lost my innocence when I was nine, but I can help prevent that from happening from other children; help to get them justice when they are victimized. I've learned that not everyone is basically good, but not everyone is bad either; Brass, Grissom, Catherine, Warrick, Sara, and Greg are examples of that.
I wish I'd known them when I was nine.