It's been so long since I've updated this story! Haven't given up on it. I still have a plan for it. I will be updating my other stories soon. Enjoy!

Two weeks go by before I see Casey again. Two weeks without any type of contact.

I decide to go by her apartment after work. I don't bother calling first, as I know she will either not answer the phone or tell me not to come over.

After I knock, it takes her several moments to answer the door. And when she does, she looks less than thrilled to see me.

"Alex," she says flatly, turning her chair away from the door and rolling towards her living room. She leaves the door wide open and I hesitantly enter.

I stand awkwardly in her living room and look around the apartment. It's pretty unkept; empty beer bottles on the coffee table, clothes thrown hastily into a chair across from the couch. Pieces of potato chips on the floor.

Casey turns around to face me and I take in her appearance. She appears skinnier than last time I saw her, and her eyes are tired and dull. She's wearing an oversized hoodie despite the warm temperature in the apartment.

"I wanted to come see how you are doing," I say gently, not wanting to say the wrong thing. "I miss spending time with you. How have you been?"

Casey scoffs and looks down at her lap. "How have I been? Well I'm still in a wheelchair. If I forget to put my catheter in I piss all over myself because I have no control. A real attractive aspect. I haven't had clean clothes in two weeks because my chair doesn't fit in the laundry room in the building. Would you like me to go on?"

I shake my head and look at her beige carpet. "No - I wouldn't."

Casey is silent for a moment. "What do you want anyway, Alex? Why do you care how I'm doing? Am I your pity project? You feel you want to do something selfless in your life so you attach yourself to a pathetic cripple and pretend to be her friend? Pretend to care?"

I don't want to get angry with Casey, but those words rattle me. I am very defensive when anyone questions my integrity. And haven't done enough to prove to Casey that my intentions are pure?

"I've told you more than once, Casey, I don't pretend. Don't you give any mind to what that piece of shit Jay said. There are no motives to anything I've done for you. I've been completely honest with you and everything I've done has come from friendship. I like you, Casey, and I want you in my life. It's simple as that."

Casey looks away, as if she can't meet my eyes. "Only because you feel sorry for me and I think you feel guilty."

I sigh and cross my arms in front of my chest. I thought I was the world's most stubborn person, but this girl has definitely de-throned me.

"Did you not hear anything I just said?" I ask in exasperation.

"I did. A very well rehearsed speech by someone who talks and argues for a living." Casey's tone is bitter and there is nothing warm or forgiving about her at all.

I don't say anything else. I'm upset and angry and I know anything else I say will do more harm than good right now. So I shake my head and turn away from Casey and busy myself picking up her apartment.

"I don't need you to clean up after me. You're not my mother or my maid."

I look up at Casey, three empty beer bottles in my hand. "Looks to me like you need both. The booze again, huh? Rather be numb than to face life?"

"Than to face this life, yes."

Those words are so empty and her voice so sad that it makes my heart hurt. Any anger I briefly had dissipates and I turn to look at her. "Casey, I'm - "

Casey holds her hand up and shakes her head. "Don't say you're sorry; don't. I don't want or need you to feel sorry for me."

I turn back around and finish picking up the living room. Casey watches me but says nothing further and my mind works overtime to come up with something to say that she won't take offense to.

Normally when someone doesn't want you around the logical thing to do is to respect that and leave them alone. But I've never been like everyone else and I'm not about to give up on Casey.

She goes to her room while I finish picking up her apartment. It's kind of an OCD thing for me to make everything look tidy and clean. I put some dishes in the dishwasher and wipe down the countertops before I head to Casey's room.

She has her back to me, fiddling with something on the top of her dresser. I linger in the doorway, not feeling comfortable enough to just walk into her room.

She finally turns her chair around and looks at me, not really surprised to see me standing there. She has a bottle of pills in her lap and I watch as she empties two white pills into her palm and takes them dry.

I'm curious what the pills are but it's not my business so I don't address it at all. Instead I clear my throat and say, "I cleaned up for you. How about we go out and do something? Did you have dinner yet?"

Casey stares at me incredulously, like I suddenly sprouted a second head. "You're like an abused dog that just keeps coming back for more. Did you already forget our conversation when you first dropped in on me? Does it not register with you? I'm not interested in being friends, Alex. Don't waste anymore time on me."

Her words hurt - a lot, actually - but I don't let on. Instead I walk right into her room and sit down on her unmade bed. And I say exactly what's on my mind. "I know that isn't true. Just a few weeks ago you told me I was your best friend, Casey." Casey looks away at those words. "Things haven't been the same since you talked to Jay. What he said about me was absolutely not true. Not true, Casey. It hurts me that you believed him. That you would think I would use you."

"It wasn't just him; I didn't need him to tell me what I already suspected," Casey says softly. "People like you don't have friends. You have stepping stools and diving boards to further your career."

"People like me?" I echo, extremely insulated. "That's not fair, Casey! I'm not any different than you. I've worked hard just like you have and I struggle just the same as you."

"I seriously doubt you struggle like me. Everyone loves you so easily. Everything always came easy for you. You're beautiful and can get whatever you want with just a look."

I fear she's going to use my looks against me; accuse me of using sexuality to get where I am, the way others have. It would hurt me deep inside if Casey ever thought that about me.

But she doesn't stoop that low. She motions at her chair. "And you can walk. You can drive. You can strut down the corridors of the courthouse proudly. I never can again. What the hell do i have going for me? I don't need your judgement of what I'm doing with my life."

"Judgement? When have I ever judged you? I've done nothing but been there for you. And you're not doing anything with your life, Casey. Sitting in this apartment drinking, what is that going to do for you? How is that going to help your situation?"

"See? That's a judgement," Casey says quickly.

"You're damn right it is," I tell her just as quickly. "You need a wake up call. You need someone to give it to you straight. You still have a life! There's so much you could still do. You could come back to work...or find something else you wanted to do. Tell me one reason why you couldn't?"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. Go home, please." Casey backs her chair up until she hits the dresser with her wheels and swears. I can see how frustrated she is, not being able to get around like she wants.

I stand up quickly and place my hand on her arm. "Don't do this. Don't head for the exit. Just talk to me, Casey - please. I need a friend as much as you do."

I'm not going to let her retreat again. She's going to stay here and face what I'm saying to her.

Casey's sleeve rides up just enough under my touch that I see it - red on Casey's arms. Without asking permission I grab her sleeve and pull it up, revealing fresh scabbed over cuts across her wrist.

Casey quickly twists her wrist out of my grasp and yanks her sleeve down. I can tell she is embarrassed.

I feel my heart drop to my feet. I know Casey has been in a bad place, but I hadn't expected her do this again.

"You're cutting again? Damn it, Casey! You made a promise to me! To call me if you ever felt that way again. Why didn't you call me? Why did you do this again?" My voice comes out high and laced with emotion.

I expect Casey to try and run around again. But instead she stays where she is, looking completely defeated. Like all the right has gone out of her.

"Because I hate myself," she says softly. "I hate everything about myself. It's like I'm not me anymore; like I'm just a shell of who I used to be. And when I sit on the edge of the bath tub and watch the blood swirl in the water and go down the drain, I feel alive. When I feel the stinging pain of the cuts, I know I'm getting what I deserve. I deserve the pain and the blood."

I feel like someone punched me in the stomach. I have to swallow to keep from crying. "Why do you feel like that? You don't deserve any of that!"

She raises her eyes and looks at me sadly. "I took those men's lives. They died at my hands - mine. I let them violate me in the worst way possible and I didn't fight back. I was weak and pathetic. And when I killed them, I took the easy way out. Part of me was thinking that I wouldn't have to sit in court and testify to what they had done to me. I'm a monster, Alex, and you're better off to stay away from me so I don't snap and hurt you." Casey's voice quivers. "Because you're the last person I want to hurt. So just stay away from me, to protect yourself."

Suddenly I understand. I understand why Casey has tried so hard to push me away. She's afraid she's going to hurt me. I know she never will, but I also know that it's going to take more than words to convince Casey of that.

I grab Casey's wrist again and run my thumb over one of the raised up healing cuts. It makes me hurt deep inside to think that Casey sat here alone and did this to herself.

"Casey...you can't do this. Do you understand that? You can't do this." I hold onto her wrist and locks eyes with her. "I care about you. I don't want you to kill yourself!"

Casey pulls her wrist out of my grasp and rolls her sleeeve back down. "I'm not suicidal. I promise you that. I don't want to kill myself, I just want to hurt. It's hard to explain. If you've never been where I am you wouldn't understand."

I've been where Casey is. Maybe not physically, but certainly mentally. I've felt so desolate and hopeless that I seeked out human attention and affection in all the wrong ways. Like what happened with Jay.

So yes, as screwed up as it is, I can understand Casey's state of mind. It doesn't make it okay, but I can at least understand.

"Casey, we've been going about this the wrong way," I tell her. "Thinking staying away from each other will help. It won't. We have a connection, and we need each other. You can fight me all you want, but I'm coming over every day and getting you out of the house. For me, and for you."

I expect Casey to argue with me. To at least say something bitter or snarky, but as she looks at me, it's like all the fight is gone from her. She realizes that nothing she can say will stop me. Once I've put my mind to something, I follow through no matter what.

Casey doesn't say anything, and I stand up and tell her I'm going to the Chinese place we both like and picking up dinner. Again she says nothing, so I tell her I'll be right back and slip into the hall.

Once I've gotten a few paces down the hall, I pull out my phone and search through my contacts for Dr. George Haung.

He answers after two rings. "Miss Cabot, what can I do for you?"

I take a deep breath. "George. I need your help. It's about Casey."