Note: Fair warning - this chapter contains fairly graphic situations of abuse, torture, molestation, rape, and general feelings of fear. If these make you uncomfortable or uneasy, read the first four paragraphs and then skip to five paragraphs before the break.

Casey could not remember a time when she had been more terrified. William's face was wild with anger, his eyes nearly bulging out of his sockets. He stood close to her as he forced her to change from her pajamas into her spare change of clothes. When she was done he shoved her makeup bag into her hands and pushed her into the bathroom.

"Put on make-up. Look like you're going to work. I don't want to have to deal with that later." He glanced back at the unconscious Olivia and Casey took the opportunity to try to escape. As usual, it didn't work. He pushed her back and she sat down hard on the toilet. He drew his gun and pressed it against her skull. "Put on your make-up or I will pull the trigger on you and then on your friend. Do it. Now!"

Fearing for her own life as well as Olivia's, she obliged. She didn't want to remind him it was four o'clock in the morning. She did the best she could with tears rolling down her cheeks and the gun in plain sight, pressed against her shoulder. When she was done to his satisfaction, he tossed her make-up on the bed, grabbed her by the elbow, and led her out the door. "One word, one little noise to make anyone think we aren't a normal couple – I will break your neck and come back here to kill your friend," he whispered in her ear. She couldn't take the risk that he was bluffing. Casey bit her lip and took deep breaths to stop crying and followed William down to his car.

They drove around the city for about an hour before he pulled off on a residential street and forced her to have sex against the car. Then he to shoved her in the trunk and tied her hands and feet together. Once in the cramped compartment she lost all sense of direction, and threw up out of both fear and motion sickness. They must have driven around for hours, or so it seemed. Finally the stopped, but William didn't come back to get her out. They were stopped for maybe ten, fifteen minutes before they started moving again. This trip was much shorter and when they stopped he opened the trunk of the car. The sun was starting to come up. She guessed it was about six in the morning.

William had, slung over his shoulder, a long yoga-like bag full of metal bars and other equipment. He hauled her out of the trunk and into an old abandoned building. Casey's heart continued to sink lower as he practically dragged her up three flights of stairs. They came out into a huge room that was probably about half the size of the building. It likely used to be a packaging or storage room, with at least twenty foot high ceilings. The room itself was full of boxes of things. They were all covered in layers of dust and she couldn't make out exactly what they were. She thought one grouping of boxes was of canned peas, but not all of them appeared to be of food. The boxes created somewhat of a maze walkway, finally opening up in the back half of the room. There were a few wooden chairs, something that looked like a barbecue pit, a camera on a tripod, and a filthy mattress and blanket. Before she could even comprehend all the items in the room, William shoved her onto the mattress, lifted her skirt, and took advantage of her once again. She didn't even have the energy to fight back or cry out. She knew nobody would hear her.

William grabbed her from under her arms and threw her in one of the wooden chairs. He pulled some cable ties from his bag and tied her wrists to the arm rests and her ankles and knees to the legs of the chair. He tied a kerchief around her head and situated it in her mouth. Then he brought over the camera and tripod and took pictures. Her skirt was still around her waist and she wasn't able to close her legs. She blinked back the tears, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of her humiliation to be forever caught on film. He set the camera aside, walked over to her, and ripped open her shirt. She could hear the buttons landing in various areas of this torture chamber. He went back to his camera and took more photos.

When he apparently had enough, he pulled out a six-pack of beer and a pack of cigarettes and dragged one of the chairs right in front of her, sitting so their knees were touching. He lit a cigarette, took a long drag, and blew the smoke right into her face. He went through two cigarettes in this fashion and then drank a beer. He broke the bottle against the wall behind her and came back, gently dragging the broken edge along her legs. Then he drank another beer, broke the bottle, and dragged it along her arms. Then he tossed it against the wall behind her, where it shattered. With his hands now free, he put one hand between her legs and the other under her shirt. She could feel bile start to rise in her throat and she did her best to push it back down.

Then he lit a fire in the barbecue pit. Once it got going he pulled out a bag of marshmallows and roasted it, using a stick from his bag. Then he placed an iron on top of the grill.

He came back over and smoked two more cigarettes, again blowing the smoke in her face. But this time, he put them out on her chest, creating a small line of circles down her sternum. Casey bit into the kerchief, trying her best to hide the pain. It wasn't horrible – certainly less than what she had experienced the past couple of days, but painful nonetheless. As he drank another beer he began to caress her breasts and slowly worked his way down between her legs yet again.

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine that she was anywhere but here, doing anything but this. She concentrated so hard that she was successfully able to block it out for a few minutes. She was at the beach, walking along white sand, staring out at clear blue water. She had a dog and a bag of books. She found the perfect spot to sit and read while the dog played in the surf. The break of the bottle brought her back to reality as he swiped it across her arms. Thin lines of blood rose up. Still she refused to give in to her tears, to giving him the satisfaction that he was hurting and scaring the shit out of her. What was actually scaring her the most was that he hadn't said one thing to her since they left the hotel.

Suddenly, he stood up. He grabbed her face in his dirty hands and forced her to look into his wild eyes. He slapped her hard across the face, then the other cheek, then again. Then, raging in guttural, unnatural words, he put his foot on the chair and pushed it back. Casey's head hit the hard cement floor of the warehouse and temporarily blacked out. She forced her eyes open, the piped ceiling swimming across her vision. Still muttering nonsensically, he hauled the chair back up and grabbed her legs just above the knees. He squeezed so hard Casey thought her kneecaps were going to dislocate. He let go and spat in her face.

He went back to the fire to check on whatever it was that was there and came back. For the next several hours, he continued his ritual of smoking, putting it out on her chest, drinking while molesting, and then breaking the bottle and drawing blood. He would hit her in the face or forcibly grab her arms from time to time. He had ripped the sleeves off her shirt and long ago discarded her bra. She might as well have been sitting in that chair completely naked.

Casey had lost all track of time, but figured it was probably late afternoon judging by the sun no longer streaming through the windows around the roof of the building. She wondered how much longer he was planning to keep her here, if he was even planning to let her go. How many more beers could he drink? He had easily already had a full dozen. What else did he have in store for her? The more he drank, the meaner he got, and he had started out pretty darn cruel. A cold fear seized her heart as she realized that he may never let her go, that he could be keeping her in here forever, like some sort of sexual slave. A mattress to sleep on, barbecue pit and old canned food for meals… what a sick, twisted man. She choked back a sob as she realized that this could be her future. That he had planned this so meticulously that she may never be found. Her detective friends were brilliant, but William seemed to know how to cover his tracks. She was losing hope that they'd come to rescue her.

William was approaching her again, with one of those irons from his bag. Letters glowed orange hot and menacing at the end of it – a W and a C, the whole thing about three inches by three inches. That's when Casey realized what he was going to do. She fought furiously against the ties, but they only cut deeper into her skin. She tried to cry out but it was muffled by the kerchief. He grabbed the sleeve of her shirt and ripped it down even more, making sure her skin was completely exposed. Casey fought against her ties, trying to ignore the pain of the thin plastic slicing into her skin, determined to break the arm off the chair at any cost. That had to be better than forever being branded with William's initials. But the ties were too strong and she was too weak. As the hot iron touched her skin she let out a primal, bloodcurdling scream that was in no way muffled by the kerchief. Her skin felt like it was on fire, a cooking sensation that felt like it was going all the way to her bone. She continued to scream and cry in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks. The kerchief was starting to choke her, trapping her breath inside. She had to calm down or she was going to hyperventilate. She concentrated on breathing through her nose as William returned the brand to the pit, laughing manically. He picked up one of the broken beer bottles and walked back to her. She wasn't sure how much more of his torture she could handle and prayed that he was coming to stick the sharp end of the bottle in her heart.

The pain in her arm was so sharp she could barely stand it and it was starting to make her hallucinate. Two people stepped out from behind the boxes, yelling "NYPD, drop your weapon!" It took her a second to realize that it was Elliot and Olivia, not a hallucination. William threw the bottle at Olivia, who ducked, and it shattered against a box behind her. He swiftly bent over and pulled out a gun from an ankle holster and aimed it at Elliot. But Elliot was faster and fired two shots. William slumped to the ground, a pool of blood spreading out from under his body almost immediately. Casey stared at his body, shocked, barely able to see him through her tears. She could hear Olivia call for an ambulance and Dr. Warner as she checked William's pulse. Elliot came over and knelt down in front of her.

"Casey," he said softly. She barely heard him, unable to pull her gaze away from William's lifeless body. "Casey. Look at me, don't look at him." He waited a few seconds and when she didn't seem to hear he reached out and touched her chin. "Case, look at me." He pulled down the kerchief from her mouth and tried to pull down her skirt, but she jerked away so he stopped. Slowly, she shifted her tear-filled eyes to him. Seeing him there in front of her snapped her out of it and she started to cry. She struggled violently against the ties that bound her to the chair.

"Hang on, Casey," he pulled out his pocket knife and cut the ties. As soon as her hands were free she pulled her shirt together, fastening it with the lone button still attached, but her shirt was so ripped it did nothing to cover her. She pulled at her skirt and then tried to pull off the ties before Elliot could get to them. "Hold on, I don't want to cut you," he said firmly. As soon as the ties were off, she threw her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder. He held her for several minutes, stroking her hair and gently kissing the top of her head until she calmed down enough to pull away. He shrugged off his jacket and put it around her shoulders. The material irritated the fresh burn but she didn't care. He helped her stand and wrapped his arm protectively around her waist as they started to head toward the exit. He held her head to his chest so she couldn't see the body of her ex-boyfriend lying motionless on the concrete floor. They were almost to the exit when Dr. Warner's team arrived, with the EMTs close behind, complete with a stretcher. Casey climbed on without a fight and they wheeled her out. "Hey, Liv, I'm going to ride with Casey to the hospital. We'll meet you there!" he called over his shoulder.

When he got to the ambulance they had already hooked her up to an IV and were putting cold rags on the burn. Casey sat there, a blank expression on her face. She had gone back to her place on the beach. He climbed in took a seat next to one of the EMTs and reached over to hold her hand, rubbing it with his thumb for the duration of the ride. They rode in silence to the hospital and then whisked her away for treatment. Elliot went to the waiting room and sent up a prayer of healing. If he could, he would have gone in there with her and held her hand during the examinations. He didn't want her to be alone.

Olivia arrived about an hour later. He stood as she walked up and they embraced. "It's over, El. He can't hurt her anymore."

He pulled away and they both sat down. "I'm just afraid of how these memories are going to hurt her."

"Casey's tough. She'll come through it all right."

"Yes, she is tough, but this is quite an ordeal she had to go through. I think even the toughest person might take awhile to heal."

"You're right. I'm just glad he can't physically hurt her any more." They were quiet for a few minutes. "Hey, El? Have you thought about where she's going to stay for a few days?"

"I haven't had a chance to think about it yet, honestly. She doesn't have anywhere to go right now, and I highly doubt she'll want to go back to the apartment she shared with William. I won't let her go back to that apartment."

"That's what I was thinking, too. I don't want her to be somewhere with all those terrible memories and I especially don't want her to be alone. What if I suggest she stay at my place, and you and I can take turns looking after her. It's small but it's better than her office. What do you think?"

"She's Casey. She'll probably not want to intrude and say she'd rather stay at her office. But I think she'll want to stay with someone."

"I'll offer my place to her and take the first shift. We'll talk tomorrow, but why don't you plan on coming over after dinner?" Liv suggested. Elliot nodded and was about to reply when the doctor walked in and shared the diagnosis.

"She's okay. She has a second degree burn from the brand and we have put together an at-home kit to clean and re-bandage it. You can buy all of it at the grocery or drug store without a prescription. You'll need to keep her hydrated as much as possible. At least eight glasses a day. The cuts on her wrists and ankles aren't deep, but are painful, and we have bandaged those as well. We asked her some questions and gave her a CT scan, and it looks like she has a mild concussion. She's in a bit of shock – not medical shock, but emotional shock. She barely said anything or moved while we worked on her. Except to repeatedly say that she refuses to stay overnight and would like to go home. We'd like to keep her here for observation, but she refuses. So, we will compromise - we'd like her to stay for a few more hours to ensure she isn't dehydrated and can regulate her body temperature. I would recommend she stay with someone for several days to decompress and help her with changing the bandages and cleaning the wound. She needs plenty of rest and keep her activity limited. Check on her every few hours and wake her up if necessary. If she complains of a headache, give her Tylenol, but no Advil. If she starts acting strange or out of character, bring her back here immediately. For now, we've given her some pain medication that should also reduce the overall swelling. If you'd like, I can give you a reference of a great psychiatrist if she needs to talk to anyone. Do you have any questions?"

"No, Doctor. Thank you for your help," Elliot said, shaking his hand. Olivia nodded and then they both sat down to wait. They sat in silence for the next three hours, dozing off and on. Every so often one of them would go check on her, but Casey was zoned out and wasn't even aware of their presence. It was almost nine when Casey was wheeled into the room, wearing a pair of slightly oversized hospital scrubs. The bandage around her arm was peaking out from under the sleeve and her wrists were wrapped up tight, looking almost as though she had tried to slit her wrists. Her injuries were so extensive that both detectives prayed that she had been given strong pain medication.

"I'm ready to go. I want to go home," she said dully.

"You can stay with me for a bit, Casey, if you'd like," Olivia offered.

Casey stared at her for a second, as though she didn't quite understand. Then she nodded. "That would be nice. I need some clothes, though. And my toothbrush."

"Cragen sent one of the female detectives with Munch to the apartment and picked up several changes of clothes."

"Munch couldn't go on his own?"

"Do you really want Munch dressing you?" Elliot asked, raising an eyebrow. The joke made her snap out of it a little and she cracked a smile.

"You're right. I don't think I do."

The nurse wheeled Casey to the entrance of the hospital while Olivia went to get the car. Casey stood shakily and Elliot put his hand on her back and helped her into the car. They stopped at the station to pick up Casey's clothes and so Olivia could get her car. Before they went their separate ways, Elliot pulled Casey into a hug once again. He wanted to tell her how happy he was she was okay, that he was sorry she had to suffer through this, but he couldn't find the words. Casey pulled back and whispered a thank you. His actions said much more than any words. He waved as they drove off and watched the car until it turned out of sight.