Chapter title: Devastation
Chapter summary: Casey reveals to Olivia the details of her past and the years of pain and abuse at the hands of her parents.
Pairing: They're still just friends.
Publish date: Oct. 26, 2005
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anyone.
Note: I probably should have mentioned in chapter 2 that this occurs approximately 6 months after the events in chapter 1.

"Sweetheart, who's gone?" Olivia asked gently.

"My parents," Casey said, her voice cracking.

"Oh god, Casey, I'm so sorry. How?"

Casey took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain calm. "The doctor called and said they were coming back from some party. The roads were wet, it was dark, and they had been drinking. They took a turn too fast and the car went off the road, down a hill, and into a tree. My mom was thrown from the car and my dad died on impact." She laughed bitterly. "Who goes out and parties that hard on a Wednesday night, besides college students?" She shook her head. "I'm over-reacting. I shouldn't be this upset."

"What are you talking about? Casey, you just lost both your parents. I'm surprised you're holding it together so well."

"You don't understand," she said softly.

"Help me understand, then."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"It's silly."

"It isn't silly if it's hurting you this badly," Olivia paused. She brushed the hair out of Casey's face. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I don't want to force you to relive something when you're already vulnerable."

"It's long."

"I have all night."

Casey looked down at her hands, battling the emotions that were fighting to surface. If she lost it now, she'd never be able to stop. "My parents were a lot of things. Rich, socialites, the pictures of perfection, but they were also abusive and alcoholics. I was their first child and a huge disappointment because I was a girl. My father wanted his first born to be a boy, to carry on the family name and everything that went with it. When I was two my brother was born. Jacob Andrew Novak the Fourth. He was my parents' pride and joy. He could do no wrong. I, on the other hand, could do nothing but. I'd get punished for the littlest things. Being so young, I had no idea why this was happening to me.

"I was eight and Jake had just turned six. He had gotten a "big boy" bike and had spent the whole week learning how to ride it. One day we rode our bikes to the store to get candy. We were riding home when Jake rode through some loose gravel at the corner of our street and since he was still unsteady he fell and hit his head on the curb. I remember screaming and crying and my parents running over to us. My mom grabbed me and threw me out of the way and I nearly got hit by a car, but my parents didn't notice. They rushed him to the hospital – I was lucky I made it in the car, otherwise I would have been left at home. At the hospital, they ran all sorts of tests. I don't remember the specifics because my parents never told me. The doctors found out my brother had a brain tumor and they wouldn't be able to operate. My parents just gave me this look, and I wanted to disappear. They made me stay in the waiting room and when they came to get me, they told me they had almost forgotten about me. I knew then that they blamed me. They never told me directly, but they dropped hints. After awhile I started to believe them. I knew it wasn't my fault, but what else was I supposed to think when I couldn't do anything right?

"After Jake died things got so much worse. I had to be so careful because I didn't know what would set them off when they got drunk. One time I loaded the dishwasher wrong – I mixed up the silverware – and my dad threw me in a closet for an hour. Another time a neighborhood dog got into our yard and dug up my mom's flower bed and she beat me. I was able to convince everyone I got my black eye trying to catch a fly ball while practicing with my dad. I played softball but because I was an outfielder, my parents never came to my games. They didn't think it was a worthy enough position to waste their time to come see me, even though I was put there because I could catch the balls that were hit out there.

"Nothing I did was ever good enough for them. I always did my best in everything but they didn't care unless it was perfect. I'd get the highest grade in my class, or the only A, and they would say to me "why wasn't it a 100?" or "it isn't a perfect score, you must not be working hard enough." Once I got a 97 in my AP Government class and they said I was stupid. My Physics class was the hardest class at my school, and I got an 88 on the final – the highest grade in my class – and they beat me, both of them beat me. They told me how disappointed they were in me. I graduated fifth in my class but they didn't come to my graduation because I wasn't valedictorian. I graduated third in my class from law school and they didn't come because I wasn't first. They didn't care I paid for college and grad school all on my own. They didn't care I got a job right out of school. They thought working in sex crimes was a disgrace, as was working for the state. They were, once again, disappointed that I didn't want to go into private practice," Casey paused as other memories flooded back to her.

"I didn't have any friends. I didn't know who I could trust. I can't tell you how many days I spent at a picnic table, eating lunch alone, watching other people laugh and talk to each other while I had nobody. Most of those times I'd cry without realizing it, and then some jerk would come over and make fun of me for it. The people I thought were my friends wouldn't give me the time of day. When things got really bad at home, I'd try to talk to them, but they'd say they were busy and couldn't talk. Once I even went to a friend's house unannounced, sobbing, and she shut the door in my face. My parents thought there was something wrong with me, on top of being stupid, which only gave more fuel to their punishments. I started cutting myself to feel something other than the pain they were putting me through. They'd hit me if I cried, and cutting for me was my way of crying. When I cut myself, everything just seemed to go away, at least for a little bit. It was comforting. Things got so bad I tried to kill myself at school. Someone found me in the bathroom and I was hospitalized for a week, and my parents only came to see me twice." Casey stopped, unsure she was able to continue. Olivia rubbed her back in encouragement. "I can't."

"You're doing fine," Olivia said gently.

"Okay. But please don't touch me right now."

Olivia obediently took her hands away and then a thought occurred to her. "Casey, your dad didn't molest you, did he?" she asked worriedly. The last thing this poor woman needed was to carry around rape on top of everything else.

"No." Casey's eyes filled with tears she could no longer hold back. "He – he'd watch me shower and get dressed sometimes. He and my mom, they'd make me strip down in the middle of our living room. He'd go first and touch me, inspect my body with these…these nasty eyes. Sometimes he'd just stand back and look me up and down, like I was a vile person, and his lip would curl as if I was the most disgusting thing he'd ever seen. Then my mom would come up to me and she'd take out a permanent marker and circle all the places on my body I needed to work on. Sometimes, depending on her mood, she'd color them in. It was so humiliating, standing there so exposed and vulnerable. I was so afraid my father would rape me, but he never did. If I cried, they'd hit me or burn my chest or stomach with their cigarette butts," Casey finished. She looked over at Olivia for the first time since she started and saw concern etched all over her friend's face. When she noticed the tears in Olivia's eyes, she started to lose it completely.

"I tried, Olivia," she said, her façade crumbling as the tears slid faster down her cheeks. "I tried so hard to make them love me."

Olivia ignored Casey's request not to be touched and wrapped her arms around the ADA, pulling her as close as possible, cradling her head in the crook of her arm. Olivia held her tightly and kissed the top of her head. She wished there was something she could do to alleviate Casey's pain. No words were adequate enough; nothing she said would make the past go away or make it easier to accept. Instead, she provided what she could: a comforting embrace and nonjudgmental silence. Tears rolled down her own cheeks as she imagined a scared, sixteen year old Casey standing naked in the middle of a room, being scrutinized by her father and marked up by her mother, the two people in her life that should be giving her support, not taking away her dignity.

Casey clung to Olivia, sobs taking control of her body, crying so hard she thought her head would split. After several minutes she was so exhausted she couldn't hold herself up any longer, and she was far from getting everything out of her system. Olivia must have sensed it and pulled a pillow into her lap and Casey collapsed onto it. Olivia moved her hair off her neck and face and smoothed it back off her forehead. She gently rubbed Casey's face and arm until her sobs subsided.

Her whole body felt like lead and her head was starting to hurt from crying so much. Olivia was still stroking her face, her hands cool and comforting against her hot skin. She gave herself a few minutes to catch her breath then sat up, popped her neck, and avoided the detective's gaze. Olivia reached over and held the side of Casey's face and turned her head to meet her eyes.

"Casey, I know this probably won't mean much coming from me. But I think you are beautiful and incredibly smart. You are a strong woman. You have a good head on your shoulders and are passionate about what you do and care about those around you. And I'm so, so sorry your parents never knew or saw it. I'm sorry you had to suffer through those things. God, Casey, I wish I knew you earlier in life, perhaps I could have been a shoulder to help bear your burden. I'm sorry your parents died without knowing who you truly were," she said, her voice catching in her throat. She wiped a tear off Casey's cheek and kissed her forehead before pulling her into a secure embrace.

Casey rested her head on Olivia's shoulder. "It means a lot," she whispered. She was quiet for a few moments. "I just wish I knew if they loved me."

Olivia didn't know how to respond. She didn't want to admit it, but it certainly sounded like her parents didn't love her. But they were her parents; they had to love her, at least a little. "They were your parents. Even though they did those horrible things to you, they had to love you."

"If they loved me, they wouldn't have treated me the way they did."

"I'm sorry Casey. I don't have any answers for you."

"It's okay. At least you tried." They sat in silence for a minute before Casey sat up and attempted to stand, but she was still shaky from the emotional strain on her body.

"Where are you going?" Olivia asked.

"Home."

"I don't think so."

"Olivia, thank you so much for listening to me. But I really should –"

"Casey, stay here tonight. It's late, and cold and rainy. And I can see it in your eyes you don't really want to go home. You can sleep on the couch and have some privacy, but if you need a friend I'm just in the next room."

Casey sat back down on the couch, nodding in acceptance. She was too exhausted to argue, and Olivia was right – she didn't want to go home.

"Just get comfortable, I'll go get some blankets. Do you sleep with socks on?"

Casey just shook her head. She lay down on the couch, clutching a chenille pillow to her face. Tears welled in her eyes as she reflected back on what she revealed to Olivia, the first person to ever know about her past. Her tears dripped from one eye over the ridge of her nose and into the other. Olivia came back with an armload of blankets and covered her up with them. When she brushed the hair off Casey's face she noticed the fresh tears, and sat on the floor beside the couch, once again resting her hand on the side of the ADA's face. She couldn't think of anything to say and she wished she could do something for her friend.

Casey took Olivia's hand off her face and held it to her chest. "Olivia, I –" she paused, trying to think of how she could voice her gratitude. "I couldn't have made it through tonight without you. Thank you." The last two words spoke volumes. Olivia squeezed her hand then withdrew it from her grip.

"Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

Casey was asleep before Olivia turned out the light. Olivia watched the sleeping ADA for a couple of minutes before heading back to her room. She knew the road to recovery was going to be long and hard, but she was going to stand by Casey's side the whole way, offering her what was quite possible the first true friendship she ever had. As she climbed into bed she said a prayer for Casey to make it through this tragedy.

Please let me know what you think! I'll try to get the next chapter up ASAP. Would anyone be interested in a different story about Casey's past?