Chapter Text
Casey sat on the couch in Will’s apartment, staring out the window which led to the patio. Her bag rested by her feet, with her overnight clothes. Will was in the kitchen, where the popping of kernels began crescendoing throughout the apartment.
John liked for her to stay the night with one of her frequenters if he was going to be out of town. It made sense. They were paying John to keep her overnight. And he would know that she didn’t have any freedom, that she couldn’t spend her free nights doing anything he wouldn’t approve of.
Not that there was much for a twelve year old to do on her own.
But Casey knew there was more than that, too. John took pleasure in her pain. John knew that a night to themselves with her meant that his friends would be able to do whatever they wanted to her, without him in the next room listening. In some fucked up way, John liked that they would disobey his rules. He wanted his niece to suffer.
But even though Casey knew better than to think that Will was any different, she couldn’t help but feel a little stutter of confusion as he walked from the kitchen with a pleasant smile on his face and a bowl of popcorn in his hands, sitting down on the couch next to her, but keeping a good enough distance. Even if it was only a few inches, she still wasn’t used to having space, wasn’t used to not having their legs pressed against hers, their hands on her inner thigh.
“Go on, pick a movie,” he told her.
And Casey couldn’t help but stare for a moment, blankly, as if debating his sincerity. But she knew better than to waste a moment of kindness by overthinking. So she stood and went to the rows of DVDs he had, finding a small portion of them to be kids movies. Which made her uncomfortable, because she didn’t think Will had any younger siblings or cousins, or any other kids besides her in his life. But again, she tried not to overthink, relying solely on her numbness, and she straightened once she picked one out. She hadn’t seen any of them, but she picked the one called Finding Nemo because she remembered years ago, when she was in elementary school, hearing the other kids talk about it. She thought she was the only one who hadn’t seen it. Not that it made any difference now, but in some way, she supposed it did to her.
So she put the disk in and started it, and when she went to return to the couch, Will had his arm out, waiting for her to sit in his grasp. She sighed, having known better than to think anything would be different.
She resigned herself to his proximity, letting him pull her close, tucked into his side in a way that made her even more uncomfortable because she could hear his breathing and feel his heart beating, and it was hard to focus on the movie.
But she tried. She tried because it was the most color she’d seen in a long time. She tried, because she liked the guilelessness of kids' movies, something she had rarely seen because John only let her watch TV if he was with her, and that meant watching whatever boring sports he liked. She tried, because some stupid part of her hoped that she could just get lost in it and that nothing else would be real anymore.
But then Will finished the popcorn and got up to take the bowl to the kitchen, and when he returned, Casey was instantly aware that things were different. Maybe it was because she could see the hardness in his pants or maybe she could just sense the desire radiating off of him. But he kissed her as he sat down and his hands instantly became hungry for more of her, and she couldn’t help it, she did something that she refused to let herself do in front of those men. She cried. She cried for herself. She cried for the little girl who just wanted to watch a movie for the first time in years. She cried for the girl who was jealous of a stupid fucking animated fish because unlike him, she didn’t have a father fighting for her, trying to save her. She cried because she had no escape, no way out of this.
Will pulled back, brows furrowed at the sight of her tears. “It’s okay, Casey, it’s okay,” he pointlessly tried to reassure, a false gentleness in his voice as if he could understand what was going on in her head. “Come here, it’ll be fine. I’ll show you.”
He wiped her tears away and lifted her up, taking her to his bedroom.
She never got to find out what happened to that little fish.
-
Casey approached the apartments with determination. This kill would be different, she could feel it.
But whether it was some sort of intuition telling her so, or if it was just Dennis’ tight, reassuring grasp on her hand as he helped her climb up the hill, that much was unknown.
She let out a heavy sigh as she looked up to the second story apartment, the glass door to the balcony aglow from the light inside. It meant that Will was home. And probably awake, too.
She looked to Dennis, not bothering to conceal the faint anxiety she felt from her expression. But in his, she found steadiness, confidence. He didn’t need to speak a word. He was the calm and control she needed, and she let it soothe her.
“C’mon,” he said quietly, threading his hands together, proving a foothold for her. She took it, placing her combat boot into his palms, which she was sure was triggering his OCD like hell, but neither of them acknowledged it. In fact, he surprised her further as he directed, “Step on my shoulder.”
She just did without a second thought, climbing up onto him, a hand on his buzzed head to keep her steady. He boosted her up, moving his hands to her legs once she removed her foot from his grasp.
The rough stucco wall bit into her palms and elbows as she clung to the balcony wall, but she ignored it, peering into the apartment, ensuring it was empty, before she pushed herself up with what limited body strength she had, sliding her legs over the wall. And then she was in, and she took one more glance, making sure Will wouldn’t see her through the door, before she turned and looked down at Dennis. She waved a hand, ushering him to hurry. She didn’t like having her back exposed like this.
As if sensing her discomfort, he stepped onto the balcony wall of the apartment below, then boosted himself up quickly, latching to the edge of the second story wall and climbing with such ease that Casey couldn’t help but be transported back to that day. Watching that body climb walls. Remembering the fear she felt in that moment as it stuttered into a brief amazement.
As he brought his nimble body into the balcony with her, it was clear they were both thinking the same thing. But now was not the time.
She pushed all those thoughts aside and took her backpack from off of her body, unzipping it enough to pull the knife out. The gun was already in Dennis’ waistband, as he’d insisted before they’d even gotten out of the truck.
And then, with a steadying breath, she put the bag onto her back again and straightened, before going over to the door. Dennis was there first, handkerchief wrapped around the handle before he gave it a soft tug. And it opened.
Just as Casey figured. He wasn’t worried about her coming after him.
She also knew deep down that this would be their last time having it easy, but she had much more on her mind at the moment.
Dennis stepped inside first, making sure the room was empty, and she followed close behind. And a tinge of dread started to form within her, until her senses sharpened, and she heard the sound of running water. He was in the shower.
She looked to Dennis, seeing if he heard it too, and a moment later he returned the glance, a question in his eyes, wondering what she wanted to do now.
She knew she couldn't wait. Her nerves would get the best of her. She needed to act on this adrenaline. So she stepped ahead of Dennis, walking through the living room and setting off for the hallway. The same hallway she’d been led down, dragged into his room, helpless to the things he would do to her.
The tides had turned.
She stopped in front of the bathroom door, which was halfway opened, and she peered into the room, warmed by the heat of his shower, where she could just barely make out his silhouette behind the white shower curtain.
She nudged the door open slowly with the blade, her knuckles white around its handle, and then she stepped into the bathroom, taking slow steps towards the shower.
And then she pushed the curtain aside.
Will startled, a terrified noise escaping his throat, and he jumped so far back that he slipped, falling pathetically onto his ass, his head hitting the tile wall behind him. Casey reached forward and turned the water off, her eyes never pulling away from him as she did.
And despite how terrified she was, despite how her nerves were buzzing through her with such intensity that she felt sick, she could almost laugh at what a pathetic mess the man was, naked, slumped into a puddle, terrified of the little girl he liked to rape from time to time standing over him.
But Casey gave nothing away in her expression. She almost looked bored.
“C-Casey,” he choked out. She’d never heard a man sound so scared before. “What are you doing, Casey? Calm down, okay?” He held his hands up, and Casey was unsure if it was a gesture to try and show that he was harmless, or if he thought he could fend her off with them. And anyways, who was he to tell her to calm down, when he was the one nearly pissing himself from fear?
She didn’t dignify it with a response, just silently stepping into the shower. Maybe later she’d care about the bootprints she’d leave behind. But for now, all she could think about was doing away with this cowering, sorry excuse for a man.
His eyes flicked away from her only for a moment to look at Dennis behind her, and in that brief second, Casey had lowered herself in front of him, crouching by his feet. Dennis would probably scold her later for putting herself into a vulnerable position like this, but she wasn’t scared. Will wouldn’t do anything. She could tell by the shake in his hands, the dread in his face as tears started to form in his eyes, and the way he muttered quiet little pleads for mercy. “Please, please, please.”
“‘Please’ what?” she spoke back, acting clueless. He met her eyes, but with how sharp and angry hers were it was as if they’d burnt him with their rage, and he looked away, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Please don’t do anything. I never wanted to hurt you, Casey. I care about you, you know that. I- I tried to be gentle. I never hit you-”
“Shit, should I thank you? I mean, you did start raping me when I was a kid, but, gosh, at least you were gentle about it,” she spat back, the harshness in her tone making him flinch.
“I’m sorry, Casey. I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“William. Look at me,” she ordered, but he didn’t adhere, stuck in his hysterical loop of apologies.
There was one sure way to snap him out of it.
She raised the blade and then plunged it right into his bare thigh, making him scream out in pain. She could hear the patter of blood as it spilled onto the floor. She reached forward and slapped his face, almost gently, just trying to get him to focus on her rather than the pain.
He was practically hyperventilating, his eyes dull and unfocused now as he looked at her, the expression of terror not removing from his face despite the pain.
He let out a little hopeless sob. “I’m sorry. Please, I’ll do anything. I’m sorry.”
Casey hated his apologies then, when he would finish defiling her and then claim to be sorry about it as if it were outside of his control. And she hated it now, hated that he could still claim to be sorry, knowing full well that the only reason he regretted it was because it led him here. She hated that he could beg for mercy as if he could be deserving of her granting it to him.
“You’re sorry?” Her voice was quiet, almost gentle. A faint spark of hope lit in his eyes, as if he truly believed she may show him mercy.
He nodded rapidly, not willing to let this chance slip through his fingers.
But Casey was not giving him a chance to live. She pulled the blade out of his thigh, eliciting another cry of pain from the trembling man. And then she reached forward, picking up his hand and sliding the handle of the knife into his palm, wrapping his hand around it.
“Casey,” Dennis scolded from behind her, confusion and concern laced in his tone only enough for her to pick up on it. But she ignored him, making Will wrap both hands around the handle, the bloodied blade now pointed directly at his stomach.
“Kill yourself, then.”
Will sharply exhaled, eyes wide in realization, slowly transforming right back into that terror. He didn’t move his hands, just looked down at them, as if he didn’t quite believe that he was now holding a knife to his own stomach, the tip of it just ready to pierce the skin.
“Casey,” he groveled. She didn’t want him to speak anymore.
“Kill yourself, William. If you’re so sorry about it. Kill yourself.”
“I- I-” he stammered, almost pitiful. God, it made her sick.
She knew he was too scared to do this to himself, that she would have to guide his hand. But she also didn’t really expect him to fight back. So when he suddenly moved forward, beginning to move his hands away from himself, she acted on instinct rather than logic.
She grabbed his hands and drove the blade right into his stomach.
She felt as it tore through his flesh and his organs. She heard it, the gruesome noise his body made, the way he instantly started choking and sputtering on his own blood.
And she just watched in a near awe as the life drained from the man’s eyes who had put her through so much pain and suffering. She watched him struggling to breathe, struggling to even keep his eyes on her, as his body started to give up on him, surrendering to the wound in his stomach.
She reached forward and pulled the knife out from his gut, unblocking the dam, letting that hot red river flow free. Then she pushed herself to her feet, standing over him, but his eyes didn’t follow, having grown foggy and distant. His head had slumped back, his body's last efforts to breathe had ceased. A crimson stream ran from his mouth down to his naked chest, combining with the bloodied slit she’d left right in the center of his body. The blood puddled all around him, staining the shower floor, collecting at her feet.
If he wasn’t dead yet, he would be any minute now. And Casey had seen enough.
She pulled her eyes away, turning to Dennis, where he lingered just outside of the shower. He’d been looking right at her, his eyes sharp and focused, full of that same pride he’d shown her last time.
She let out a long exhale, breathing out the metallic scent that flooded the room, breathing out the fear and conflict she’d felt before. And when she inhaled, she breathed in clarity. She didn’t let herself go numb the way she had last time.
This time, she let herself feel it. William Darren was dead. And it felt good.
But she must have gotten a little unsteady on her feet, because Dennis reached forward and placed his hands on her forearms, providing a steadying grasp.
“Come here,” he softly said, guiding her out of the shower, and then towards the counter. “There’s blood all over your boots,” he said, as if that was the most important thing right now. He guided her to sit on the counter, and then crouched to unlace them and take them off.
“Dennis,” she said softly, making him look up at her, but once he did, she found herself speechless. He’d just watched her kill somebody. Again. Shouldn’t they be saying something to each other?
But all she could do was look over at the shower, where Will's bloodied corpse lay, where blood had splattered onto the white shower curtain, and there were no words to be said.
“It’s okay, Casey,” Dennis filled the silence for her, and she felt relieved. He pulled her shoes off and then stood, towering over her once again. “You did good.”
She exhaled relief, knowing how strange it was to feel joy in his pride right now, knowing that that pride came from such a wicked place. But then again, didn’t she deserve this? Wasn’t she lucky to have someone who understood that this was valid, the revenge she deserved?
Before she could even sort her thoughts, she placed her hand on his cheek and pulled him in, kissing him hard, momentarily forgetting that there was a corpse only feet away. But when she pulled away from the kiss and the thought came back, it didn’t feel so heavy when she saw Dennis’ admiring smile.
“Why don’t you go into the living room? I’ll clean up these shoe prints,” Dennis offered, nodding towards the door, a quiet order, “And the knife.”
She’d forgotten she was even holding it, like it had just morphed into a part of her. It was almost hard to unclench her white knuckled hand from it, but she did, and Dennis took it. If he noticed how warm and sweaty the handle was, he didn’t show it. And Casey just adhered to his little order without a word, pushing herself off of the counter. She felt a little bad, but she could use a minute alone, and one not spent breathing in the death in that steamy little bathroom.
Though she did remember their need for money. So she told Dennis, “I’ll look for his cash,” before she exited the bathroom and went into his bedroom, where she expected to find a wallet.
The room was big and dark and an absolute mess. Unmade bed, dirty clothes strewn everywhere, pillows on the floor. She was relieved that she was the one doing this and not Dennis. The sight would have given him a heart attack.
She sorted through the piles of dirty clothes on the floor for his pants, trying not to cringe at the thoughts bombarding her. Thoughts that he likely hadn’t planned on having her over any time soon, because he would have had a lot of cleaning to do. Thoughts that he was a messy person with a messy life, and now he’d never be able to clean it.
But unlike his room, he’d never be able to clean his slate. He’d never be able to undo what he’d done to her in this very bedroom when she was a child, never slowing down despite how much she cried and writhed and screamed. And he’d had the audacity to try and use his last breaths to justify it to her. As if trying to be ‘gentle’ made okay what he’d done.
She hadn’t even realized that she’d gotten lost, staring at that bed instead of doing what she’d come in here to do. She snapped her eyes away and focused up, finding pairs of pants and searching through the pockets, until she came upon a winner. In the pocket was a wallet, and in the wallet were four twenties, plus a few singles. It was no jackpot, but it could get them a night at a cheap hotel if they really needed it.
She put it back where she found it and straightened, giving the room one last look and trying hard to avoid the thoughts that came with it. And then she walked to the living room and didn’t look back.
Her feet carried her to the couch, and although she knew she should try not to touch anything, she just dropped herself onto it, sitting in the same spot where she’d tried to watch a movie all those years ago, foolishly believing she could avoid Will’s touch. She breathed out a sigh at the memories being in this spot brought back, remembering that little girl she’d been. Already so hurt and scarred by the world. It was strange to think that she’d been just a little more alive in that moment, before Will had dragged her to his bedroom. One would think that there was a maximum, a certain amount of times where one can be abused before they stop dying inside, where they’re too dead, too numb to it all. One would most certainly think that by twelve years old and countless rapes, Casey had hit that max. But she hadn’t. Because there never was a max to be met. Every single rape killed that girl a little bit more. The morning before she was kidnapped was the last time she was raped, the last time she died a little further inside.
But she was alive now.
Alive in a way she hadn’t been since before all of this. Alive in a way she never thought she would be ever again. These deaths gave her that life.
She feared that about herself. But she also craved it. She craved the possibility that once all ten of them were dead, it would be as if she’d gotten all the life back that they’d taken from her. Maybe she deserved that. Maybe she deserved to kill them all and reclaim herself. And maybe she deserved to just indulge in this blissful feeling, rather than fear in herself.
“Hey.” Dennis’s voice nearly made her flinch, but she looked up at him, and slowly a small laugh left her at his casual little greeting, so odd at a time like this.
“Hey,” she said back, smiling. “You already done?”
“I wasn’t that fast.” He handed her her now clean shoes and knife, which she took from him, putting the knife into her backpack and putting the shoes on her feet. “You okay?”
She stopped mid-lace and looked up, slow at first, before another smile formed on her face. “Maybe I shouldn’t be. I just killed somebody. Again. But… Yeah. I’m good.”
He gave a nod. “You shouldn’t feel guilty for being okay. They deserved it. That groveling asshole deserved it just as much as the others.”
Her smile didn’t fade as she nodded, this time because she was so glad that he understood her and so deeply understood this situation they found themselves in.
“Yeah,” she said again, then finished tying up her boots and stood. He placed a hand on her arm, and not because she needed the steadiness. It was clearly just a casual touch, which she was relieved he was getting better at.
“You ready to head back? One last night at the cabin?”
She went to nod an answer, but stopped for a moment, her attention caught by something to the left of him. He turned and followed her gaze to the little entertainment center below the TV, and watched as she stepped up to it, now having to crouch to find the DVD of Finding Nemo, which she slid out from the pile and put into her backpack. She heard Dennis’ soft laugh as she straightened.
“What?” she asked, but couldn’t play dumb and clueless because she was smiling like an idiot.
“Nothing,” he returned with the same smile, and led them out onto the balcony. “Let me go first. I’ll catch you.”
Despite the look on her face, she didn’t question him, and did as he said, watching as he climbed over the ledge of the balcony and dropped down. She didn’t bother to close the sliding door behind her, just moved her legs over the ledge. She already had enough adrenaline that convincing herself to drop was easy, and just as he’d promised, she wound up safely in his arms. And good God, this was not the right place, but they both hesitated for a moment, a dumb little giggle escaping Casey, before she was leaning forward and kissing him hard.
He eventually had to let her go, so they could walk back to the truck and drive back to the cabin in a comfortable silence.
-
Dennis didn’t realize how tired he and the whole body were until he’d passed the light off to Hedwig- of course, with Casey’s persuasion.
And then, before he knew it, he was waking up from darkness and getting up to carry the sleeping boy away from the light. He returned to take the light for himself again, and when he awoke in the body, he felt a little odd. And it took him a moment- no matter how long it was, it was too long for his liking- to realize that he was slumped over to one side, his head resting on Casey’s arm.
He quickly sat upright, taking his own posture, Hedwig’s immediately nowhere to be found. He looked at Casey beside him, who pulled her eyes away from the TV when he moved, slightly startled, before she let out a soft laugh. He could hardly hide his embarrassment.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” Casey giggled, and although he tried to shoot her a stern look, he couldn’t keep his smile away. There was nothing better than the sight of her smile and the sound of her laughter. Waking up and knowing that she was safe and happy right here beside him was worth the fact that he woke up on her arm. “He hardly even watched the movie before he was out cold,” she said, stretching her arm out and moving her fingers, which had probably fallen asleep at least an hour ago, but she wouldn’t dare risk waking Hedwig, Dennis was certain.
He let out a soft noise from his throat, then tiredly ran a hand across his scalp. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she laughed, and then turned her attention away, back to the TV. He looked up, seeing that she was still watching that movie about the fish that she’d begged him to let Hedwig watch with her. Which was a relief, because it meant that he hadn’t been sleeping like that for too long.
“Wanna go to bed?” he asked, assuming that the fervors of the day had exhausted her. But she just shook her head.
“In a minute,” she said, and then adjusted, this time so she could lay her head on his chest and let him hold her while she finished watching the movie. Part of him wanted to ask why she was so invested in it, but aside from the fact that he found it pretty adorable, he also just didn’t want to interrupt her.
So he just held her, stroking a hand through that long mess of hair she had, his eyes trained down at her while her gaze remained determinedly on the TV even as her eyes grew heavy.
It was only once the movie was over that she let herself fall asleep, happy in his arms.