Not For Dymond

Okay, this chapter is longer than intended, and sorry it took so long to come up with it, but it was just this mess, and I was so blocked and so hating it, but I got it done. I knew this chapter was going to be boring and uninteresting for me, and a lot of it had to be forced, but I did spice it up a little for you readers, still not sure about that, but you'll definitely think Derek is an asshole after all of this.

But it picks up again after next chapter, which is gonna be interesting, and I should be able to write it faster. The end's approaching! I'm not making much sense, sorry, but I kinda wanna go to sleep again. Anyways, reviews are good and, uh, wow, can't think of anything else to say.

Oh, by the way, I've got a new Life with Derek fic going called Strange Attractors, so if you like Lizzie and Edwin, go check it out. It's all about those two, and, I dunno, I think it's really good, better than this... There's a lot of tension. But I'm biased, so ignore me.

I don't own Life with Derek, obviously, or anything else mentioned within this chapter that is a brand name or pop culture thing, etcetera...

“Then untie me, and I'll inspire you some more.”

I guess you could say that things have gotten ugly between me and Derek. That, is, of course, a massive understatement. We're just short of strangling each other, really. Things have gotten downright nasty... Derek goes places no one should. Whatever you consider bad, he takes it a step further. He gets right down in the dirt and rolls around and hits even lower.

And everyone's noticed it. Technically Derek's supposed to be grounded at home, 24-7, no friends, no going out, no hockey, no TV, no computer, no phone, no fun, no girlfriends. His life is supposed to be work, coaching the little kids, homework, school, and thinking about what he's done. He's supposed to apologize. That's one of the conditions. They'll end the grounding, they say, if he apologizes.

But, being Derek Venturi, he flouts those rules. Because he is the exception to every rule and every last law of nature.

He doesn't come home at all, hardly. Partially because he can't bear to see me, I'm sure, and partially because he doesn't want to face their punishment. Mom and George don't even know where he is most of the time, and Derek's all but moved out. Honestly, I think it relieves them a little, not having to deal with him. They're secretly very glad that he's not here to ruin their perfect little family. Because they've noticed more than anyone just how bad it's gotten lately. We can't even be in the same room without fighting, and Derek doesn't heed their warnings about language or innuendo unless Marti's standing right next to him. And that pisses me off because he gets no punishment for what he's done to me. None whatsoever.

It's always something, too, and Mom and George just don't care. It's like they expect me to get over it or something. Well, I'm not. I'm not just going to forget or accept my fate. Lizzie and Edwin are just downright scared. They practically walk around clutching each other, eying us warily. Even Marti knows what's up. She cries at night sometimes, and more than once I've heard her ask Derek why he was being so mean to me.

Derek always tells her the same thing. First he explains. “Casey and I got in a big fight and we both said a lot of awful things to each other. Cruel things, unforgivable things.” She asks what the fight was about then, and why can't we just make up? “It was about hurting each other. And she hurt me, Marti.” Marti gets a little confused then and asks what I said or something like that. Derek doesn't say, but I guess she reads the look on his face and just... knows. So then she'll apologize to Derek and ask him where it hurts, and if she can kiss it and make it better. She does, or at least she tries to. Then Marti asks him why he's so mean again, why he does what he does. “Because I can't do anything else, Marti. I can't forgive her, and I can't forget what she did.”

So that's how I know he still has a heart.

He stays out late at night all the time now. We almost never see him, and if he does come in, it's when everyone's asleep and only to crash. I hear he's back to his old ways, only with even more energy. If you can believe that. Full force, full throttle. He's a legend, a fixture at every party, and if he wasn't on top before, he definitely is now. He's never had more power. He's at the top of his game. Any party that's worth going to... he's there. If he's not there, he's out clubbing or whatever. If it's not that, it's either a girl or hockey.

He's back to his womanizing ways, too, and it's as if he was never monogamous or celibate. I didn't think he could get worse, you know, but somehow he managed to pull it off. Technically, he's “dating” Vicky. She's the one he brings over all the time. Because he knows how much it pisses me off, and so does she. But she doesn't know why or anything. He's obviously just using her to get to me. And because she looks like me. And that, well, that makes me sick.

However, Vicky lives in Toronto, which means that Derek is free to do as he pleases here. I think they have an agreement of some sort. And Derek sees a lot of girls here. He's had more one-night stands than I'd like to remember. Ew, that sounds... not right. I mean, he brings a few of them home, but he mostly does them in his car or at these parties or in the janitor's closet at school or, I don't know, at wherever they live. A lot of them nowadays are slutty college girls. I swear he cruises the quad of UWO looking for the sluttiest ones he can find and then butters them up with a few drinks and sleazy flattery.

But he's always careful to be careful, never forgets the condom. So I've heard. Still, it's a wonder he doesn't have a baby mama, really. He brings Vicky back here a lot, though. More than all the others. When he does have a girl over, though, he makes sure to bang her against my wall or somewhere where I'll inevitably have to see it. Vicky he takes to my bed. Or my desk or God knows where else. I'm practically afraid to go in my room lately. I never know what he's touched. Ugh, the thought of his seminal fluids all over my room. Disgusting. I can't believe I actually used to-

He's back to drinking and smoking, too. Drinks like a fish, smokes like a chimney. And he always reeks of it. He never looks hungover, though. His eyes somehow aren't bloodshot, his cheeks aren't puffy; there aren't dark circles under his eyes. Well, he has a little of that going, and he looks a bit paler, I guess, but he's somehow stronger for it. He likes to smoke in my room and spray his cologne in there and do all sorts of things in there. Hell, he probably jacks off in my bedroom. He sure gets off on being in it. And my bedroom always smells like him. It's unbearable.

But I guess I should say what else he's done, right? Oh, Derek's done just about every awful thing you could imagine, I'm sure. He revived the Grub nickname for starters. But he doesn't mean it like that. He says it like a worm in that utterly repulsive way. He's torn up some of my favorite clothing, stole my clothes during gym class... He had one of his lackeys write SLUT on my locker. I always know it's him. He got me in trouble for putting dirty poems in the newspaper that I didn't write. The poem began something like this: One day I met a yellow duck/He was a beast who really liked to.../So he rode me hard... I'm sure you can get the gist of that. Implied bestiality and all. Who knew Derek was a poet? Obviously not a good one, given his reliance on rhyming couplets.

He set off fireworks in front of my door. When I was sleeping. The black marks are still on the floor. The carpet burned. It still smells horrible, and Derek hasn't replaced it yet. And then there's the rumors... He said that I made pornos. Using our younger siblings and the various boys I'd apparently whored around with. What's up with the incest theme, Derek? Then he had all these guys on the hockey team and the football team, any team you can imagine, one or two at a time so it wouldn't be suspicious, spread rumors saying they slept with me. And, they added new and interesting ways in which I was awful in bed.

I'm not going to lie... Coming from Derek, that hurt. Because he, of all people, would know. He's the only one who would. So hearing it come from him, even second-hand, hurts me. It's like he thinks it, and then I wonder if it's really true, and I don't know. I can't ask him anyway. The guys, they embellish. Each one gives me a new fetish. One said I have a foot fetish. Another that I like watching porn. Another still said I'm into S&M. And then there was one who said I had a schoolgirl/teacher roleplaying thing. So many things that they're impossible. One said I'm into girls. It doesn't help that Derek started up that lesbian MySpace for me.

He strikes so suddenly, silently, easily... It's mind-boggling. Like, okay, today I was just innocently walking in the hallway. This totally creepy guy who looks way too old to go here, you know, in that creepy foreign way, walks up to me. He held out his arms, and, to my horror, came too close. “Casey, baby, I hear you're easy...” I shoved the guy away from me violently. First off, what the hell kind of pick-up line is that? Not even a backhanded compliment.

“Well, you heard wrong. Besides, even if I was easy... I'd still have standards,” I snapped back irritably. Standards this clown wouldn't meet, like, for instance, basic hygiene, an interesting personality, and, you know, not being so repellent that I can't even stand to look at him. I'm not the village bicycle, contrary to what Derek's been spewing. Everybody does not get a turn... or a ride. I swear, I am a scumbag magnet nowadays. I'm not quite sure if Derek actually pays people to do this to me or just tells them too. The creepy guy's face fell.

“But Derek told me that you'd say yes,” He whined. As if that's a reason I'd do it? Ugh. He's what, trying to pimp out his stepsister? I rolled my eyes at him and kept walking. The idiot followed.

“If I wasn't already rejecting you, that would've been enough to make me start.” My hatred for Derek was well-established throughout the school. I didn't bother to look back, but the idiot kept following, no matter how much I tried to increase my pace. “Besides, you can't trust a word Derek says. He's the biggest liar in school. So do us both a favor and stop listening to my asinine stepbrother. You're wasting your time here!” I snarled. Unbelievably, the freak had the nerve to touch me.

If I had the skills, I would've judo-chopped him. Instead I whirled around and wrenched my arm out of his grip. “Who do you think you are? I've been pretty clear about how I feel. I don't want you or your indecent proposal. I can't spell it out any further than that. In fact, I have a boyfriend, and he could just as easily rearrange your organs if you don't leave me alone!” I retorted threateningly. I shot him a look, an icy smile passing over my face. “And where do you think he would start?”

Yeah, buddy, just try me! Needless to say, the fool clutched his groin and ran off. As he was supposed to. I allowed myself a satisfied smile as I jetted off to English class. I arrived just in time and assumed my typical seat at the front. I glanced back and saw Derek smirking at me, eyes already narrowed, but I didn't mind it. The hate I'd felt before bubbled up in me, stronger than before. Oh, I wanted to get even in a small way, and I was going to get it today. Our teacher smiled at me specifically, and I smiled back eagerly. “So, yesterday I gave you the assignment of writing a poem for our slam poetry contest. As you know, slam poetry is a much more elemental response, more fluid and flexible, often more emotional and personal to the poet. It is a way of confronting the issues that plague us most... That being said, some of you are now going to read your poetry for the class. Any volunteers?” She explained, keeping her eyes peeled.

Naturally, my hand shot into the air. First as always. I heard the familiar scoff behind me and pointedly ignored it. I was going to make him wish he was dead. The teacher smiled down at me beatifically. “Casey, then? It's always a treat to hear your work. Please, do go ahead.” I took my paper out of the folder and sashayed on up to the front, holding my head up high. Sure, I heard the soft coughs of “slut” and catcalls and murmurings (“grub”, “teacher's pet”, “keener”), but I ignored those too. I can't keep letting them... letting HIM... get to me.

I stood in front of the podium confidently. “I hate you,” I said loudly and dramatically, finding Derek's face in the back quickly. My eyes narrowed as I pushed on. “But hate's not a strong enough word to... Properly express my emotions.” I paused, glancing up to gauge his irritation. Not near annoyed enough yet, but he will be. “My revulsion for your sweet devotions,” I snarled. Derek stiffened then and shifted in his chair. The smirk had fallen from his face. I continued, “So I loathe you then, maybe that'll be strong enough to get my point across.” I was careful to enunciate my words, staring the whole room down, not just Derek.

All of them who thought so little of me. I was furious. I felt the fury in me building, pulsing. “It's not just dislike, not just mistrust,” I chanted, reinforcing my hatred. “It's me fundamentally despising your very guts,” I drawled, feeling the rhythm. I spat out the poison like it was nothing, briefly glancing at my teacher's astonished face. Apparently my passion had taken her by surprise. Indeed, everyone was eying me with intrigue. I swallowed over my the lump in my throat, the disgusted lump in my throat as I looked at him. “I get sick when I look at you,” I spat, feeling quite ill just staring at him.

Every time I look at him, I remember all the injustices, all the pranks, all the bitterness, all the indignities. It all played in my mind like a bad film. Again and again. The next words I spoke, I spoke with an intense revulsion. “Because I can't help but remember the things you made me do... I can't get over the feeling of your hands on my bare skin. Makes me wanna tear it all off and turn it inside out again!” I growled, feeling my stomach flip-turn. I felt nauseous. A little dizzy too. It was like all the rage I'd felt for all his many sins had bubbled up inside me like soda pop, and I was about to explode. But I forced myself to keep looking at him. Forced myself to hold it all together. “The very sight of you makes my stomach turn... My insides become outsides and everything's reversed.”

And I was still confused too. “Seeing your face takes me back in time... Back to a day when I was yours and you were mine.” I frowned at those lines briefly. They sounded almost nostalgic, and the look on Derek's face changed a bit. Whereas before it had been a straight-out I-wish-I-was-never-born-look, now it was less of that, confusion, and some other emotions there mingling on his face. “But I never said I wanted to go back in time,” I amended smoothly, grinning that cutting smile, like a shark's grin before devouring its prey. “Your heart may be broken, but your soul is black,” I emphasized with an almost mocking lilt to my voice.

I shook my head and launched into the lecture bit. “Don't tell me you love me when you spit words of hate. No matter what you say 'bout you and me, it wasn't fate. Don't say I've broken you when you were busted before... Don't come in my room drunk, begging for me to give you more,” I ordered in a matter-of-fact voice, telling him off. Derek had this perfect look on his face, almost heartbroken all over again. You're not getting any more of me. This time there was no disguising the mockery in my voice. Broken him? I've broken him? Yeah, right. I wanted to smile, but it would've ruined the tone of the poem.

“And I hate the way you leave your smell all over my room... When you're in my bed, banging your new whore...” A.k.a. My dear sweet cousin, Vicky. Derek actually did smirk at that. He sat up a little straighter in his chair, almost like he was proud of that. “You always leave me with an impending sense of gloom.” And then it was gone. I felt like laughing victoriously. “Don't sing my praises and whine about my faults. If you really loved me, you'd love me for 'em, not without,” I decreed saucily. Derek's face darkened at that, as if I'd dealt him the greatest insult. But no, I was saving that for later.

The next part was harder for me because it was a different emotion than the rage that had previously dominated the poem. It was me acknowledging that yes, I had done wrong by him. But that didn't give him the right to be an asshole. He knew what he was getting into. “I'm sorry for the way that I treated you,” I said with a barely-managed sincerity. I had tried so hard to keep the bitterness and snappy hatred out of my voice because I wanted to snarl the words mockingly like I didn't mean them because I didn't want to, but I had to do it this way because deep down I meant the veiled apology. I shrugged coolly. “Yeah, I may have led you on, and I don't feel the same way... But that doesn't give you permission to treat me as you do,” I conceded, turning it on him viciously.

My eyes hardened. There were no traces left in me of any mercy for him. He'd long ago exhausted that and my patience. He needs to do the mature thing and just get the hell over it. He's already gotten his revenge on me like, a hundred-fold by this point. He's just being petty. But I guess his motto is: “Don't get mad. Get even.” I rolled my eyes and proceeded. “You call me bad names and talk smack to your friends... But I know that you're just a jealous, hurt small little boy again,” I countered, being sure to rub that burn in. He was acting small, like a little boy, and he was obviously being ruled by his jealousy. I briefly spared glances on the others before returning my stare to him once more.

It is funny that Derek and I had never really met eyes during this confrontation, but that was soon to be a thing of the past. I wasn't really searching out his gaze since it still made me physically ill to look at him for too long. “All you know how to do is fight back... With below-the-belt words and underhanded attacks. What you need to do is drop the subterfuge. Stop plotting away, 'cause you'll only lose,” I lectured, indicting him. Stubbornness, however, gleamed in Derek's eyes, and I knew he wasn't going to let down. Not even for a minute. He wasn't really gaining anything by ruining my life, after all, just some petty sense of satisfaction that was fleeting and wouldn't make him really any happier.

“Just be true, be you, be real,” I said even though I hated that verse and accordingly refused to look at Derek while uttering that particular verse. It was uttered in a hasty, half-unsure tone, skimmed over. I hurried to the next one. “What you need to do is learn how to feel,” I stated bluntly, glancing up to look at him. Our eyes finally locked and began an intense showdown. For a second I wondered if anyone else noticed where I was staring, but the wall was behind him too... “Go ahead and cry, it won't make you weaker,” I sniped bitterly. Because you're already plenty weak as it is, D. “But don't keep fighting on for a hopeless cause.” I made a point to emphasize hopeless to remind him that he didn't have a snowball's chance.

A look of naked pain flashed across his eyes, but I looked past it, ignored it. It didn't concern me. “'Cause I'm not yours to be won, and I won't be,” I promised in a voice that sounded much more tough than I really was. “Not by you, 'cause I see through you... And you're just one big fat fraud,” I finished with a bang, watching in satisfaction as Derek's eyes got darker. He seethed silently and broke the staring contest. I really was victorious. Then I turned to the teacher and smiled sunnily. She got the hint that I was done and rose from her chair, quickly closing her jaw and motioning for me to sit down. She was too stunned to offer praise or advice, but I didn't care. I also didn't care about the curious stares. Let them gaze! They were meant to look, after all.

The teacher sort of looked stumped for a moment before quickly getting up to her feet. “Any other volunteers?” No one was foolish enough to raise their hands after that. So, my teacher, getting desperate, decided to take the option of picking victims instead. A few people afterwards awkwardly shuffled through their forgettable, boring poems. And then she decided to play with fire and try to make an example out of someone. She peered around the room imperiously before her finger stopped, and she pointed at one person in particular. “Derek Venturi! I'm sure you have something remarkable to share with us this day. That is, if you remembered to do the assignment.” Her voice took on the harsh tone of a lecture I rarely heard used against Derek.

He was normally too charming to be reproached, so I appreciated her taking a stand with him this time. Derek merely rolled his eyes casually, bored. “Unlike some people, my keener stepsister and yourself included, I have better things to do with my time than write dumb poetry,” He replied coolly, shooting me a dirty look. I glowered back at him, and the teacher became enraged. Her face flooded with color, but, oddly, instead of giving Derek a detention outright, she recognized his insult for what it really was... a distraction... and ultimately decided that forcing him to speak would be the worst punishment she could inflict upon him.

Too bad. Another disciplinary problem could've done him in. “While I'm sure your vast list of extracurriculars, Derek, which as far as I can tell consists of a barbarian sport and maintaining your loyal harem and centralizing your power through your popularity... is more than enough for most people, I disagree with you. Poetry is not dumb, as you so ineloquently put it. It is a craft and a very undervalued and unappreciated art form, perhaps one too complex for you to properly understand and appreciate. It's also a lot harder than you seem to think, so, Derek, I say, why don't you give it a try and see how you like it?” My teacher challenged him surprisingly insultingly.

The Walking Phallus cocked an eyebrow, surprised she'd had the nerve to issue a challenge to him outright. “I don't have to try it to know I don't like it,” He responded immediately, scoffing immediately.

Our teacher laughed briefly, smiling sweetly, and we were all almost convinced that she'd given in to Derek's charm. “Oh, but you will. You see, when I said you could give it a try, I meant that you would. Obviously you have no other option, and, wow, don't you need to pass this class in order to graduate at some point, Mister Venturi? So you'll either do it or flunk,” She informed him bluntly, relishing her position of power over him. I looked over at Derek and felt uncomfortable. She had all but said that he was doing poorly in the class, had practically called him out in public. It seemed unethical. Sure, I'd done the same thing, but anonymously. She might as well have said, “You don't want to have to retake another grade, now do you?”

Basically the woman set him up for a task she knew he'd fail at, and, judging by Derek's grim smile, he knew that too. Nevertheless, he's never been one to back down, so he rose up slowly and headed nonchalantly to the front of the class, as if she hadn't just strong-armed him into it. He looked at the teacher scathingly. “Forgive me, but I'm afraid I've lost my paper... So I'm just gonna wing it. You can pick some nice little dork to write what I dictate, okay? Like Casey,” Derek told her bossily, making it clear that once again he was back in charge. I scowled at him, but the teacher merely shrugged and motioned for me to do as he had bid.

I too glowered at the bitch and then at Derek, but I got out my pen and paper as dictated. Derek cleared his throat, leaning forward. It looked like he was about to speak. Then, just as abruptly, he pulled back and turned to the teacher. I could've sworn he looked nervous for a minute, but it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. “It doesn't have to rhyme, does it?” The teacher rolled her eyes and told him that it didn't, but he stopped her before she could get into a tangent about free-verse.

He leaned forward once again, holding on to the sides of the podium. He looked as if he would've rather spoken into a microphone and held on to that, but he stared the room down diligently, determinedly, making the rounds before his eyes finally settled on me. “I hate whores,” He began in a staccato voice, smirking just slightly. I froze and the whole class sort of gasped, but the teacher, intrigued, motioned for him to go on. He just shrugged and played it off all cool. “I know a whore,” He added a moment later, eyes still on me, still smirking.

I shut my eyes, but my unwilling hands wrote the words I hated nonetheless. “But every other male in the county knows her, so I'm hardly unique.” I opened my eyes to narrow slits. There he was, grinning back at me like he'd won. He offered me a wink so fast I could've blinked and missed it before sending his eyes elsewhere. “And for a time she was sweet. She was the sweetest taste I'd ever known...” Derek reflected, eyes closed. His voice sounded almost far away, huskier, appreciative even. But then the illusion ended just as quickly as it began when his eyes shot back open. He leaned on the podium casually, as if he was talking to a friend. “You see, she wasn't a whore when I met her. She was a just regular girl. Your typical, regular, average, boring girl. A prude, even. Wouldn't even open her legs for her boyfriend. But then she met me, and I changed all that for her. I mean, I really shook up this girl's world. I rocked the boat, rocked and rolled her all night long, broke her down completely,” Derek elaborated coolly, weaving the web deeper.

He grinned lazily, staring off into space dimly. “Her transformation was a thing of beauty. A source of pride for myself, of course. Of my ultimate triumph. This girl, she'd had principles and beliefs and this irrational hatred of me, and all of that was just erased, and I was victorious. Like always. She'd tried to resist me, but of course she couldn't help but give in, just like all the others. I'm irresistible,” He declared dramatically, fluttering his eyelashes. Our professor clearly didn't approve of the theatrical performance, but there's no stopping Derek in one of his moods. Every word was torture. There were some giggles throughout the classroom. I wanted to fade into the floor, even though no one knew he was talking about me. God, he's such an asshole!

Besides, as he would say, resistance is futile. Isn't that the truth?

Naturally, he continued on in the way he was going. “And, ooh, I had her wrapped around my finger, begging me for sex, doing my every whim. It was a pretty sweet deal. I'm not gonna lie. But then she branched out. I guess I'd really awakened the nympho in her or something, and she wanted more. She wanted control, wanted other guys in the picture who didn't even measure up. She completely didn't appreciate what I'd given her. So I dropped her like yesterday's news. And now everyone sees her for the whore she is,” Derek drawled, scowling a bit as he thought of me. I seethed and burned at his words, wanting to spit at him. He had an interesting meter too, a strange, lilting tone, but I didn't think of that. I couldn't.

Not when I wanted to murder him. It was all such a lie. “I know a whore. And so do you. In fact-” Derek said, returning to his refrain, suddenly changing his mind. I stared at him, wide-eyed and horrified. He had stolen what was supposed to be my triumph and turned it against me in the worst way. But apparently revealing who I was was even too low and bad for him, so he stopped cold. People were hanging on his every word, waiting for him to name names, and it sickened me. Derek sobered up a bit. “And I loved a whore once upon a time. But now I realize that she was just a phase and a mistake. A disposable, replaceable phase I've gotten over. So, like I said... I hate whores. Especially that bitch,” Derek proclaimed, ending it with a bang far bigger than anything I'd achieved. I flinched as if he'd hit me.

Disposable, replaceable, cheap, used... The adjectives flashed in my mind.

I wanted nothing more than to run right out of the class, but I couldn't. “Well, that certainly was... interesting, Derek,” Our teacher responded, pausing briefly, a concerned look on her face. “Even if your misogynistic undertones disturb me, that's still the most emotion I've ever seen you show,” She conceded. She looked, however, thoroughly disturbed and asked me for the paper a moment later. I handed it to her, and Derek and I exchanged a heated glare. He made it clear he'd won, and I merely hung my head, defeated. How could I possibly get even with that, when he has so much of the school's support?

And then it hit me. Easy. Through Sam. I've got the influence of his best friend, after all, and that's nothing to spit at. And no matter what he says, I can still get... to the heart of things. But, more specifically, his heart. I've had it with being treated like dirt! And I'm supposed to be okay with it?! Well, it's not okay, and I tried to do this without reducing myself to his level, but clearly that's not enough! I have to play dirty and hit below the belt like he does. I'm not just going to take this lying down anymore!

The rest of the class was awkward. There was a tension in the air, an unusual one, and I could tell everyone felt it. It was radiating off of Derek, for sure, but no one could tell where it was directed. Except me. People were even giving Derek strange sideways glances, and I relished it. Ever the autocrat, Derek squashed the glances with a well-aimed glare. Naturally, I had no sooner walked out of the classroom than Derek took me aside, dragging me over to the lockers. I was uncomfortably pinned up against it, as is his style now. “You and I need to talk, Peaches,” He demanded, glowering at me.

I rolled my eyes. Like I'm seriously going to go anywhere? You're blocking my way. I kinda don't have a choice. “What do you want to talk about now, Derek? Your shriveled up heart? Besides, isn't talking in public a little too classy for you? You're all about underhandedness nowadays,” I retorted irritably, trying to push him away. But Derek had me caged in there, forced to be close to him. He let out a low chuckle, and I felt his breath hot on my face. I endeavored to turn my head away from him, but he only moved in closer.

“You don't like me being close to you, do you, Casey?” I snorted. Well, of course not! You're like a damn stalker! I swear, if he's trying to make me say I'm affected or publicly molest me again... Why would I like him being close to me? “Makes you come all unglued,” He continued smugly. Gee, I wonder why?! Maybe because you're invading my personal bubble!

I struggled to no avail to get away from him, but his grip was like steel. “Of course I don't like it, Derek. I hate you. Your proximity repulses me. So don't get all excited that you've got me squirming, okay? It doesn't mean I'm into it or anything. It just means that I want to get away from you before I become physically ill,” I snapped somewhat more irately. I looked down to see if biting his hand was a plausible or possible option but came to no concrete conclusion. However, I felt a tiny bit victorious when I felt him stiffen, or, as I prefer to say it, flinch.

He let out a dark little laugh, a tight one. “The last time I recall you squirming beneath me was ridiculously amazing, so I think I have the right to get excited. And don't pull that repulsion line, okay, because you sure as hell aren't half as repulsed by me as you like to think you are,” He countered perversely. The smarmy smile on his face was proof he remembered it. I almost shuddered to think of it. Ridiculously amazing, huh? Then why did he spread it around that I suck in bed, huh? And, God, why on earth am I thinking about this? Have I completely lost my mind? Like I'm ever gonna do that again. Derek grinned and leaned in close to my face. “You still remember the things I did to you,” He breathed. “Still think about them,” He intoned slyly.

Scowling, I roughly pushed him away, idly wondering why none of the onlookers... most of whom were scurrying to class and leaving us there like our confrontational tactics were completely commonplace... did anything. “Yes, Derek, you're right. I remember how you tortured me. I remember how you molested me. I remember how you forced yourself on me. And I sure as hell remember the many ways in which you've tried to ruin my life!” I hissed back mockingly, lip curling upward into a scowl. He came back at me and I shoved him back stubbornly, standing my ground. “And I'm not about to let you win, Derek!” I declared, turning on my heel and attempting to flee.

Derek chased after me, irritated because we hadn't spoken. I just wanted to get to class. Why does he insist on bothering me? It can't kill him that much to see me with Sam. I've even tried to make sure he doesn't see us together. Unless he pisses me off really bad. Then I'm everywhere. But I'm nowhere as bad to him as he is to me. It's not like I even really let Sam do anything. I think I've made out with him once, and I haven't really kissed him much... A couple times I've been on top of Sam kissing his neck (which confuses him since I freeze whenever he tries to touch me), and Sam and I are sometimes sickeningly sweet around Derek (but mostly by accident). I haven't fooled around with him or anything, though. Just kissing and dates and stuff. Derek doesn't even know when I go out with Sam because he's usually never around or... busy.

Something that's weird, though, is how Derek's actually extended practices and dragged Sam to parties or out for guy's nights just so we can't spend time together. It's really annoying, for someone who doesn't even really regard him as a real friend. Then again, I guess it's not that weird. Derek's relentless. “We're not done yet!” Derek shouted, grabbing my arm in a way that hinted at bruises beneath my skin. Bruised muscle was worst of all. Fortunately for me, at that very moment, Sam came by with a puzzled look on his face.

“D, what are you doing?” There was genuine confusion in his voice. Sometimes I really wish Sam wasn't so dense, but then he'd know about everything, and he wouldn't look at me the same. And maybe he'd expect me to sleep with him too. I'd really just prefer to forget it all happened. I want to go back into time where Derek still saw me as his annoying sister. At Sam's words, Derek crossly dropped my arm. I rubbed my sore arm, scowling at him.

“Just having a friendly argument with Case about whose turn it is to watch Marti tonight,” Derek lied easily. For just a moment I wondered if maybe there wasn't a grain of truth to this. After all, Mom and George were leaving for a couple hours, ironically to visit Harry and Fiona. Ostensibly, I assumed this had less to do with a mutual desire to see each other or play games or whatever it is older couples do, and that it was more about either their marital problems or Derek and Vicki dating. Mom and George aren't that oblivious. Out of respect for my cousin, I refrained from telling them that Derek and Vicki were sleeping together. So watching Marti was a real problem, and I knew Derek was gonna bellyache his way out of it, per usual.

See, Mom and George are foolish enough to assign the job to us collectively in the hopes that it would, I don't know, make us get along better. They didn't realize just how explosive a situation they just created. So Derek and I, of course, would have to work out a schedule. I don't mind watching Marti, just as long as he doesn't get out of the work, doesn't bother me, and I don't have to see him. I rolled my eyes at Derek. “My mom and your dad delegated the task to both of us, Derek. So why don't we just take shifts like mature adults?” I proposed through clenched teeth, attempting civility. It was harder than anticipated.

Derek shook his head stubbornly. He smiled smugly. “I think you should go it alone, Case. I've got things to do tonight.” He said it as if he was a king, and I should automatically do as he instructed. I rolled my eyes at him, disgusted. I hated that stupid nickname of his for me. I never gave him the right to call me that. Besides, I knew he didn't have plans with Vicki. Vicki couldn't get out of the family dinner. She was probably going to get the second degree about seeing Derek, all manner of warnings and advice and maybe even some counseling for her own role in their marital struggles. Which meant that Derek was either partying or screwing some other girl. The two were hardly exclusive, but they did have a sort of relationship.

Fat chance, Dereka. “She's your baby sister, Derek, and you're the one who'd do anything for her. You don't get to weasel your way out of it this time. So unless you have something meaningful to do, like homework or coaching hockey for the kiddies, you're not getting out of it. And you're definitely not getting out of it to bring more whores back to our house, so cool it, Prostidude. You can go without sex for one night, Whore-ick,” I pointed out icily, making sure that I wouldn't lose any ground. Sam frowned at me, not approving of my talk about Derek, but what the hell does he know? If he knew what kind of friend Derek really was, he wouldn't be so damn sympathetic...

He sighed, though, knowing he couldn't argue against that. His sister needs him, and, for whatever reason, she loves him. Probably because he treats her with kindness. So he just grunted, nodded, and left. Sam turned to me, arm outstretched, to escort me to class. He's becoming more gentlemanly too. Of course, immediately he lapsed into an argument about how I shouldn't say things like that about Derek because he really was very nice and always there for him. I fought the urge to tell him that he was the one making my life a living hell. After all, don't want to implicate myself.

Soon enough after, I went straight home from school. I was innocently writing poetry, trying to get all my frustration out while waiting for Marti and the kids to come home, and then, suddenly, there he was. By he, I mean Derek. Because who else is that much of a creep? I screamed bloody murder, but apparently our neighbors and neighborhood watch suck, 'cause no one called the police. I wish they had. Derek was snickering, circling my chair. I eyed him warily, slamming my computer shut. He always did like it when I directed my full attention to him. “What do you want, Derek?” I asked sharply.

Naturally, he smirked. I wanted to smack myself in the head. Wasn't that obvious? Well, he's not gonna get it! I scowled at him. Derek shrugged. “Just wanted to say hi to my favorite stepsis, that's all. I'd watch my back if I were you,” Derek advised casually. What? Like I haven't been watching my back for the past two weeks? If he's gonna do something bad to me, why the hell bother warning me?! He made me want to scream sometimes, really. And then, before I could grab him and pummel him or anything, Derek left my room. “I'll be down at the rink 'til seven. You better have something ready when I get back,” He called over his shoulder.

It was a surreal moment. Derek was being an asshole and generally weird, but some sort of stability had been achieved. In a way, we were sort of working together. I was still pissed about him ordering me around, though. Obviously I would've had to cook for myself and the kids anyways, but him expecting me to cook for him when he's been nothing but a bastard to me lately? That just, ugh, sent me over the edge. So I decided I was making a casserole. Tofu. Which Derek hates. 'Course Marti and Ed aren't too fond of it either, but they can deal. I'll take them out for ice cream too. On Derek's dime. Ah, I love these little sabotages.

Dimly hearing the front door slam, meaning Derek was probably gone, I went downstairs somewhat nervously. Coast was clear. I headed to the kitchen and began to mindlessly prepare a tofu casserole and sides. I spared a look at the clock, judging that Liz and Ed would be home sometime soon. Sure enough, they were, and an hour or so later Mom showed up with Marti. George got home around five, and the two kissed us all goodbye, promising they'd be home sometime around eleven. They'd call if they were going to be any later than that. Then they were gone, and I sat down to watch cartoons with the kids for a while.

We had dinner at six, and, despite the faces Edwin and Marti made, managed to finish what was on their plates. I told them to do their homework, promising them ice cream afterwards, and then set about to doing my own homework. An hour or so later, Derek still wasn't home, so I grabbed some money from his stash and took the kids to ice cream. We walked since that bastard had the car, but the kids were pleased enough, so I tried not to mind. Nevertheless, I may have left a few abusive messages on his answering machine.

“Derek, where the hell are you? You said you were going to be home at seven! I needed the car! I swear to God, you better not be out whoring around, or I will personally come find you and drag you home so Mom and George can deal with you! You're not getting out of watching them, Derek. They're more your siblings than mine, you know. Anyways, I took the kids out for ice cream. We'll be back soon. There's a casserole in the fridge for when you're hungry, and, remember, I will kill you with my own two hands if you bail on me tonight. You better be home soon, and without one of your “guests”. You will not have sex when the kids are home, you hear me, Derek!?”

Poor Liz had to go upstairs some nights. I made her because Derek was so erratic lately. And, believe me, that was hard to explain. Of course I didn't want to tell my sister the ugly truth that Derek usually came home when he did, in fact, come home, anywhere from buzzed to partially drunk to completely wasted. I have a duty to protect her from any possible danger, you know! Who knew what Derek was and wasn't capable of nowadays? Besides, her room was just across the hall from his... And what if he walked into the wrong room late one night? Heaven forbid the thought! She'd probably only be scarred for life. Sometimes I'd have to bed down with her because I couldn't sleep in my own room, and well, that was even harder to explain. I couldn't very well say, well, sorry, Liz, but I can't sleep in my own room because Derek's having sex in there with our cousin. Or because his semen is probably everywhere, and I don't know what's clean anymore, so I boil and starch my sheets, and even that's not enough.

No, one cannot tell one's little sister this.

When we finally arrived back at home, there was Derek, loafing on the couch, watching a hockey game, and looking none-too-amused. Obviously he'd gotten my message. I let a smile light up my face, feeling somewhat pleased with the situation. Edwin and Lizzie dashed upstairs to play videogames or something on Edwin's computer. Since Marti was covered in chocolate, I told her to head off to the bathroom. I moved to follow her, but Derek grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to him. He turned his head around to address Marti. “Hey, Marti, why don't you go in and get started? Casey and I need to have a little chat. She'll be there in a minute or two,” He yelled over his shoulder.

I scowled at Derek, but Marti merely nodded and followed his orders. She's too obedient for her own good. Derek watched her enter the bathroom and shut the door. As soon as she did so, he dropped my hand as if it burned. I rubbed my wrist. It felt bruised, like he was always bruising it. Then his eyes darkened further. He spoke before I could say a word. “Don't threaten me, Casey. You're in no position to threaten me. It's almost like you don't know who you're messing with. I would think you'd know by this point that I'm not one to be trifled with. Do you get me, Case?” Derek said in a low, gravelly, menacing voice.

By this point, I would think he'd know that I'm not about to take it lying down. “No!” I retorted defiantly. I stalked away from him some so he couldn't grab me. “I've had it with you! I'm sick of you! I'm fed up with your insults, your fake endearments, your scheming, and your attempts at ruining my life. I'm not going to let you blackmail me anymore! You're not going to make me miserable, Derek! I refuse to let you destroy me!” I shouted stubbornly, swearing him off with my eyes. He looked positively murderous, but I wanted to kill him too, so I didn't really care.

I shook my head, letting out a sigh. “I get it, okay? So I broke your heart, and I'm sorry for that, Derek, but you know I don't feel the same. We broke up. Get over it, Derek. It's been almost a month, and what you're doing isn't helping anyone!” I snapped back, but with a bit more reservation than I would've had in the past. I was careful to avoid saying outright that I didn't love him. I knew my words were blunt, but I would achieve nothing by being cruel, and, besides, that wasn't really my goal. Being cruel to him would only perpetuate the vicious cycle. All I really wanted to do was make him stop before I lost my mind. I just wanted him to let me forget in peace.

Derek was seething. I saw the rage written in every feature of his face, and I knew he'd taken it wrong. He didn't think I was sorry at all. Who was he to be mad about that? If he really loved me, he'd respect my wishes! He just wants to own me, and he's mad that he can't! For once in his life, he can't get what he wants, and he doesn't know what the hell to do about it because I don't want him! He shook his head irritably, stiff, getting up slowly from his chair. “It's cute that you still think you have any power over me, Casey. Like you have the power to stand up to me. To make me stop. You started it, Casey, but now you want out. Well, too bad, because you have to finish it out. You knew what you were getting into, Buttercup, but you had no idea who you were dealing with. I'll stop when I want to stop, Casey, and you won't be able to do a thing about it. So you better handle the consequences 'cause I'm only the monster you created,” Derek snarled, walking towards me.

But he's wrong. I am not Doctor Victor Frankenstein. I did not create that person, that stranger stalking towards me. Funny, isn't it, how it all comes back to the Shelleys? He was coming closer and closer, and that worried me. I held my head high and tried to avoid taking a step back. I swallowed hard and mustered up all my bravado. “What are you trying to accomplish, Derek? Is this supposed to be revenge? You wanna make me suffer like I made you suffer, is that it? Is this supposed to make me come back to you? It's never gonna happen, Derek! I don't want to be with you, Derek! Just accept it already!” I rejoined hastily, almost mockingly. I tried to be as non-hostile as I could. There were far crueler words I could've said, words he would've deserved. But I wasn't like him.

Eying me like a snake, Derek came perilously close to me. I forced myself to resist the urge to move backward. He wasn't going to corner me. Couldn't Derek be mature and just let it go? He practically growled, taking another step closer until he made me really uncomfortable. I was restless, almost squirming, and Derek knew it. “I'm only giving you what you asked for, Case. What you deserve.” His voice was husky, and he leaned in a little bit closer to my skin, so that his lips practically brushed against my face. I turned away instinctively, and then, upon seeing his victorious grin, I shoved him away forcefully, charging over to him.

Shaking my head at him, I stared him down. “You're not going to blackmail me anymore, Derek. And you know why? Because you're not really going to tell them either. And if you do, Derek, I'll deny it, and they'll believe me because how would they have not noticed their son and their daughter screwing under their own roof?” I countered viciously. Two can play this game. Derek looked rather surprised for a moment, almost impressed.

Then he scoffed. “Yeah, right. You're a terrible liar, Casey, and you don't scare me.”

Bad move, D. “We hate each other, Derek. Casey McDonald would never have sex with Derek Venturi. And you've lost a lot of creditability around this house lately. In case you've forgotten, I learned lying from you, and you sure taught me well. So I'll tell them that you've lost your mind or say you're on drugs or that you're obsessed with me. Which you are. Maybe then they'll finally give you the help you deserve or else ship you off to rehab or therapy,” I cut in brutally, spelling it out for him in bold letters. Derek's jaw tightened, but he still didn't believe me.

Boy, I mean business, get me? “But why would I lie about something if there was no reason for me to gain from it? You forget, Casey, that I know things about you that no one else does. I know every freckle, every birthmark, every scar. I know the way you smell, how your skin tastes, how your tongue feels, every tone of your voice. I know too much, Casey. It's the details that will be your downfall,” Derek returned stiffly. At first he sounded bored, but his voice quickly picked up intensity. I shuddered all over, realizing that what he said was true. Derek smirked and moved a little closer, running his hand down my side. “I know how you taste, how you kiss. I know what turns you on. I know how to make you moan. I know how to satisfy you. And I know the look on your face when you c-” He continued, taunting me, eying me sleazily. I grimaced.

“See! Obsessed!” I interrupted loudly, feeling weak in the knees and deeply disturbed. My skin crawled with the memory. I shoved his hand away with a slap and tore myself away, clearing my throat and trying to regain my sanity. “And that's what I'll tell them. I'll tell them you took advantage of me. You drugged me, got me drunk, and then you had your way with me against my will. Repeatedly. I'll say you overpowered me, that you threatened me, that you forced me to do it. That you were drunk and cruel, and that you hurt me and tore away a piece of me every time you invaded my body. And I'll tell them all of the things you did to me afterward, of the cruelty you're capable of... C'mon, Derek, who's really going to believe you over me? And then you'll be lucky not to wind up in prison,” I declared fiercely. It wasn't the first time I'd threatened him with that, but it was the first time I'd meant it.

Derek paled, but he didn't say I wouldn't. I was too descriptive. It was then that I knew I'd won. He didn't say anything right away, and I knew he wasn't going to say a damn word. But he was so darkly furious, I knew there would be retribution. Not that I cared. “We both know it didn't happen that way, Gumdrop,” Derek quipped finally. I rolled my eyes. Didn't matter. He's not the only one who can lie. He coughed and then snorted, trying to regain the cool he'd lost. Suddenly he seemed a whole lot less scary. “Well, Princess, you don't want anyone to know, so you're not going to tell them your little doctored version of events under pain of death. So I can and will bury you, Casey. You ain't seen nothing yet... When I'm through with you, you'll be so miserable you wish you were dead,” He snarled, easily sounding unbalanced and menacing.

“I am no one's rebound guy,” He thundered before I could even say a word to counter him. It was strange, because I hadn't even brought that up, not for a long time. But then I rolled my eyes and leaned in a little.

“Except mine, you mean?” I retorted nastily, confirming exactly what he said. I knew it was a weak spot for him, but he had scared me. I had to keep my defenses up and my wits about me. And, damn it, I was going to best him someday. Derek looked like he wanted to throw me, but he barely managed to restrain himself from doing so.

“No one's, you hear me?” He barked back equally hostilely. “You'll pay, believe me, Casey,” He swore. I rolled my eyes and stalked off to the bathroom, where a messy Marti was waiting for me. She'd made a mess of things, as usual. Nevertheless, I helped her tidy up and then passed her off to Derek, since it was his turn to watch her. I'd given him a schedule and made that very clear, so I retreated upstairs to do my homework.

However, I found myself surprisingly more tired than I'd anticipated, so I decided to settle down for a little nap. I set my alarm for an hour and then closed my eyes. I'd finished most of my homework by this point anyways.

When I came to approximately thirty minutes later, I found that I was cold and I couldn't move my arms. At first I thought it was some terrible dream, but I opened my eyes to see Derek smirking down at me. He was tying one of my feet to the bed, grinning like a maniac. I struggled to move my arms and turned, noticing that they were tied to my bedposts. It hurt to move them. I opened my mouth to speak, but I was muzzled. Predictably Derek had tied a bandanna or sock or something over my mouth. I was louder than he'd intended, though, because he didn't take the extra step of sticking something in my mouth. As Derek reached over to tie my other leg to the bed, I twisted my body as far as I could to explosively kick him in the balls.

My kick hit home, and Derek practically fell over, clutching himself. I relished his pain. I struggled with my foot to loosen the lies he'd just completed on the first one without much success. Even if I had managed to free my feet, what could I really do other than kick him? I waited with baited breath for him to get up and try again. My muscles became tense as he groaned and got back up, clutching the board at the base of my bed. Naturally, I immediately swiped at his head with my foot, but he ducked so I missed him. He grimaced, gritting his teeth, obviously still in pain, but he moved back and managed to stand up properly.

I tried to kick him again, but Derek lunged forward like a tiger or something and snatched my foot with both hands, holding it securely as he tied it to the bedframe. I hated him for that. I was laid out spread-eagled on my bed, which wasn't even remotely comfortable. I attempted to scream at the top of my lungs, hoping that someone would hear me and come to stop this madman. Mom and Dad wouldn't be home too late, I knew, so Derek couldn't keep me like this forever, but he had me basically at his mercy, and I just knew he was going to force me to do something I didn't want to do. He really was no better than the rapist I could make him. When he was finished, Derek had the nerve to keep on smirking. He walked over to me and ran his finger down my cheek. I wanted to vomit.

“Told you I'd get you back, Casey.” His voice was chilling. I shivered involuntarily and jerked my head away from him. He merely grabbed my face and jerked my head back, forcing me to face him. I suddenly realized that it wasn't just him making my blood run cold. I was freezing, and, squinting and squirming, it hit me. I was wearing only my underwear. Derek had taken my clothes off while I was out, and I hadn't noticed? I shot him a questioning yet panicked glance. He seemed to read my mind, a fact which disturbed me even more. “What, Casey, you don't remember how gentle I can be when I want to be?”

Who knew his touch was that light, huh? To his credit, at least I was still wearing my bra. With my hands positioned the way they were, it'd be near impossible for him to remove it. It was, however, extremely possible and easy for him to molest me. Derek continued to smirk and walked across the room, locking the already shut door, making my position even more hopeless. He bent down to retrieve his video camera, and I was flooded with horror, instinctively knowing what he was going to do. That smirk will be the death of me.

All too familiarly, Derek strolled up to me and placed his hand on my stomach. I wriggled away from his touch, recoiling at the unpleasant sensation. He repulsed me immensely. But Derek just laughed and reached over further. I couldn't move too much. “Now, now, Casey... Relax. We're just going to put on a little play. As an actress, you have to play your part... And if you don't do it properly, you're gonna piss off your director. I don't know if you've noticed, Sparkles, but I'm not too nice or gentle when I get pissed off, and then I'm much less likely to make it good for you,” Derek lectured creepily. I stared at him wide-eyed and horrified. Oh, yep. He's definitely gone off the deep end.

Wait... Is he gonna rape me or something? I know he's going to do something I don't like against my will, but what? Make it good for me? I mean, even Derek's not that psychotic, right? He wouldn't hurt me on purpose, would he? Physically, I mean. He wouldn't, right? 'Cause I totally didn't mean all that I said and... Oh, God, what's he going to do to me?! I was stock still, petrified, and that made Derek smile. “Good girl, Casey.” He trailed his fingers down my cheek. I flinched, and he frowned. Apparently not so good, eh? What does he want, a trained dog? Derek smirked suddenly, moving his fingers down, over my throat, my chest, my bra, down my stomach, over my bellybutton... until I was short of breath and scared witless. “Relax, Baby,” He said, adopting a soothing voice.

He patted my stomach almost affectionately. I felt sick. Derek leaned in, grinning madly at me. “Don't worry, Casey. I'm not that type of guy. I don't get off on domination.” I wanted to spit in his face. It was so obviously a lie. I glowered at him as fiercely as I could. Couldn't do much else. Derek shook his head, that crazy smile still stretched from ear to ear. “Nah. It's really not about me this time. This, my pet, is all about you. I'm just going to videotape your reaction. I won't even use both hands, and, if you behave right, like I think you will, I might not even have to touch your bare skin... It'll be tasteful, I promise... and if you... open yourself up to it, I think you'll really enjoy it. Just don't hold back, Case. If you're really good, I might remove your gag,” Derek coaxed. There was a breezy, almost seductive tone to his voice, like he wanted to convince me to go along with it.

Not that I was going to. Hinted threats and promises nonwithstanding (if, indeed, they could be trusted at all), I knew exactly what he had in mind. The edited-up video would doubtlessly be disseminated around school, played off as a porno. He wanted to feel me up, basically, and record my reaction. Doubtlessly he pictured something very vocal... Since he thought he knew how to please m-a woman. But it's not pleasing if it's sexual assault, friends, and I wasn't about to just lie back and enjoy it. I knew the terms he'd given me to accept. Just one hand, his body not smothering me, him not inside of me, his hand not even on my bare skin, trying to make me... embarrass myself with my panties not even off. He wanted to make me look like a desperate, kinky slut, and he thought I'd be responsive to his touch.

Fat chance of that happening, Derek. Thinking fast, I decided to play along for a bit and trick him into thinking I was fully complicit until I was able to get free. I'd destroy the tape immediately afterwards. So I made a noise that would certainly be muffled as Derek trailed a finger down my side. He smiled. “Do you like that, Case?” I made sure to nod vigorously, and Derek looked surprised and, more importantly, contemplative. “I didn't think you'd respond so fast... Do you want me to touch you more?” He asked, watching me expectantly. I nodded again, pretending to be excited, even smiling. Derek reached down and untied the gag. “How 'bout I let you tell me what you want me to do to you?” He suggested flirtatiously.

For a moment I debated whether or not I should scream, but I decided that the risk of my poor siblings walking in on this would definitely be a scarring experience, so I'd have to get free on my own, by playing along. “Okay,” I said, adopting a husky tone and stretching deliberately, like a cat. “I want to feel your hands on my stomach,” I rasped, making my eyes dangerously half-lidded. I could use Derek's libido against him. I couldn't believe he was so easily persuaded. But he held back, and I thought he'd doubted me, even though I'd passed the first test.

He wanted something different instead. “Say my name,” He commanded. His eyes said he'd do it just as soon as I said it, like a magic spell or something. For once, I was obedient.

“Derek.” I made sure to enunciate, and Derek did as I asked. “I want to feel your lips on my collarbone, but don't leave a mark... Derek,” I ordered a moment later, well aware that I was sucking him in. Once again, he did as I asked, hands trailing up unbidden. My skin felt prickly and unpleasant, but I threw my head back and pretended to enjoy it. “Oh, Derek... No one knows how to turn me on like you do,” I practically moaned, giving myself a bit of creditability. I sounded especially breathless and wanton. Derek used his tongue more, clearly hot for me. He wanted me bad, so I arched my body against his as best as I could, as much as I was willing to do. Down his hands went over my stomach, hopping over ribs and circling my bellybutton.

“Put your hands on my hips, Derek.” It was so easy, but it was hard not to be repulsed by him. It was hard not to remember the old days, but all he'd done to me just boiled up inside into a hot ball of hatred and made me that much more determined and impassive. “No one touches me like you do, Derek.” A few insincere blandishments in a whorey voice would do. I let out a breathy sigh. “Derek, I wanna touch you,” I murmured in a low voice, adding a key of desperation. He froze a little, and I continued, this time in a whiny, demanding voice. “I need you. I want to touch you so bad... Oh, please, Derek, just let me...” I was purring like a kitten to get what I wanted from him.

His fingers came down to touch me, and then I froze. This is exactly what I didn't want. Trying to keep the panic out of my voice, I let out a wheeze. “Derek, don't... That's not fair! You get to touch me all you want, and I can't lay a single finger on you. Please, Derek,” I practically begged, bucking my hips against him particularly hard. This time he gave in to his desire and reached up and untied my wrist. By this time I'd noticed that one of the knots he'd tied on my feet was loose, so I kicked every now and then to loosen it further. Once I had my hand free, I buried it in Derek's hair, trailed it down his back, acted very much like I appreciated it. I grabbed his ass to startle him, and it worked.

Sliding my hand slowly off of him, I redoubled my efforts of buckling and twisting my hips, pressing into him. I bit his ear lightly, apologizing. “Sorry. It's just so hard with my legs spread wide like this...” He groaned, and I took advantage of his distraction, thrusting my hips at a torturously slow, hard pace while I untied my other hand blindly. Derek pressed hot kisses to my cleavage, reaching around the back of me to undo my bra. I surrendered that and let him do it. He was muttering things about feeling me, a concept I didn't even want to think of.

And then my other hand was free. I brought the hand he'd untied down, burying my fingers in his hair, and I moved my leg up to lean against his side, bringing him even further against me. Derek sighed somewhat blissfully. I tried pulling my other foot free to no avail, camouflaging it as a thrusting motion, and I finally decided, as he was kissing his way up my neck, to take matters into my own hands. I slipped my free leg underneath him, and, a moment later, kneed him in the groin, grabbed him with both hands, and threw him off the bed. He landed on the floor with a loud thump, and I shot up immediately and started frantically untying the knots on my foot. I knew I didn't have much time.

He would get up soon, and he would know that I'd been playing him, so it was all important that my fingers didn't struggle. Sure enough, Derek got up less than a minute later and practically lunged for me. I found it strange that he said nothing. Nevertheless, I was prepared, so I knocked my arm into his stomach, shoving him back with the palm of my fist. I resumed my knot-untying, and I was about halfway done when he came at me again. I struck out at him with my foot, which a prepared Derek grabbed with a grim smile. The position I was in, one leg twisted over the other, restrained to my bed, was certainly uncomfortable, but I'm a dancer, so it didn't bother me that much. I struggled with relative futility, still fiddling with the knots.

After all, since he had my foot grasped firmly in both hands, he didn't have one to grab my hands and make me stop. Derek was just in the middle of transitioning to do that when I managed to finally free myself. As soon as the rope came off my foot, my leg swept out to kick him in the groin, causing him to drop my other leg and clutch his groin. I leapt up, shoving him backwards and down, and dashed out of my room, racing down the stairs.

For some reason, I ran to the kitchen, fastening my bra behind me haphazardly, aware that I was playing a dangerous game with Derek... and Derek always wins. I needed to hide, so my eagle eyes were peeled for the first nook or cranny I could fit into. That was when I saw it. Marti was lying on the floor, unconscious and bleeding from the head. At first I was just so stunned and horrified that I couldn't say anything, but next thing I knew I'd snapped out of it, and I was screaming Derek's name at the top of my lungs. It was a bloodcurdling scream, one that scared me so much I didn't even realize it was coming out of me until it was later and my throat was sore.

Almost immediately, I snatched the phone and ran to Marti, hitting the floor hard. My fumbling fingers found her wrist and felt for a pulse. She had one, and I was so incredibly relieved that I didn't even think about the phone in my hand for a minute. I remembered the CPR training they'd taught us in school and lightly slapped her cheeks, calling her name. She didn't respond, but she was breathing, at least. Then I remembered the phone and dialed 911, my back against the cold wood of the counter. “Hello? This is 911. What's the emergency?” The operator was so calm and collected whereas I thought I was going to lose it.

Hell, I was still all hot and bothered from fighting with Derek. I swallowed hard, staring at Marti, hoping she'd wake up soon. “It's my stepsister... I think... I think she fell and hit her head. She's bleeding, and she's unconscious... I think she needs an ambulance,” I stammered, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. I waited with bated breath for the operator's advice.

“What's your name?” She asked instead. I was so frustrated. What did that matter? They should have my address by now anyways. Nevertheless, I played by her rules and gave it to her, as well as our address. I glanced around somewhat anxiously. Where the hell was Derek? “How old are you, Casey?” Her tone was sympathetic, but I rolled my eyes at her. Give me some advice, you cow! My stepsister could be dying here. I ignored her. “Are your parents home, Casey?”

I rolled my eyes again. “Well, if they were, don't you think we'd be heading to the hospital by this point?” I retorted rhetorically. I paused, trying to control myself. “It's just me and my stepbrother.” I didn't want to say that we were in charge. “Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it. You don't need to keep me on the line. Just tell me what to do and send the damn ambulance already,” I continued shortly. The operator attempted to deal with this with politesse, but I wasn't having it. I couldn't do much for Marti. Exhaling heavily, I snapped, “When's the ambulance going to be here?”

At that precise moment, Derek came down the stairs, looking a bit less insane. My heart leaped up into my throat nonetheless. Derek's eyes darkened when he saw me, and he stalked into the kitchen, clearly angry at first. He just froze when he saw Marti, and this look of terrible guilt passed over his face like a dark shadow. He sank to his knees a moment later, calling her name. “Marti...” He shot me a questioning, almost accusing glance. I would've shrugged because I really didn't know, but instead I clapped a hand over the phone and answered properly, taking pity on him.

He looked more distraught than I'd ever seen him. “I think she fell and hit her head... She was like this when I came in. She won't respond to me, but maybe you could...” My voice trailed off, and I found myself hoping that he got the hint. Fortunately for me, Derek did. He pushed me aside with his shoulder in his haste to get to her, grabbing her hand. He lightly tapped her on the face, his voice pleading.

“Marti, honey, you gotta wake up... Spacey's really freaking out here...” He let out a tiny chuckle but then turned dead serious, clutching her hand as a self-realization struck him. “I'm really freaking out here.” My heart broke a little at that. Derek leaned in closer, growing more frantic. I continued half-listening to the pointless conversation. “Come on, Smarti... Please wake up. Do it for me?” His voice turned wheedling, and there was something so helpless about him. That is, until he turned to look at me. A positive growl overtook his features, and he crudely gestured to me. “Hand me the damn dishrag, Casey. I've got to stop her bleeding,” He ordered with an impressive authority.

I cleared my throat awkwardly, handing him the cloth. Derek was pressing it to Marti's head to stem the bleeding, careful not to move her in case she had a spinal injury. “I don't know when the ambulance is going to get here, but if they don't get here much sooner we're going to have to drive her ourselves. I-I'm going to go talk to the kids,” I managed awkwardly, holding the phone out for him to grab. His eyes flashed with disapproval and didn't even flick down to my outfit. And change into clothes, I added silently. Derek did nod, though, curtly before assuming my role on the phone.

On shaking, panicked legs, I scaled the stairs in record time, running into my room and putting on the first clothes I could find. I knocked down the camera by mistake and peered at it quickly in my curiosity to find that it wasn't even on. I shook away those thoughts and dressed rapidly. I pulled on a sweater, jeans, and sneakers, barely having time to fasten the jeans before I flew up the stairs to the attic. I banged hurriedly on the door before trying it. It was strangely locked, but I pushed that aside, pounding on it heavily. “Edwin, Lizzie, open up! There's been an emergency, and I...” I faltered for a moment. Were they going to come with Derek and me or stay here? I puzzled over that for a moment. We'd left Marti to her own devices and look how that turned out. So, yeah, they're coming with.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened. Both of them looked curious and somewhat flustered, like I'd interrupted something, but, since I probably looked like a woman possessed, I couldn't blame them. I just reached out and grabbed the both of them by their wrists, pulling them down the stairs. Behind me I heard Liz' query, “Casey, why is your sweater on backwards?” I forced myself to ignore it, and continued dragging them with me wordlessly. I have to be responsible. Of course, at that precise minute, my alarm went off, so I sped into my bedroom to turn it off, letting them go for a minute. I came out, still panting, moments later, easily resuming my grip and hauling their unwilling bodies down the steps.

We finally stopped in the living room. I instructed the confused preteens to wait there while I hurried into the kitchen. Derek was still on the floor next to Marti, and I immediately took it for signs of the worst. She wasn't dead, was she? But when I got closer, I noticed that Marti was awake, albeit a bit sleepy. Upon seeing me, she promptly giggled, waving at me almost drunkenly. “Hiya, Casey. You look funny.” You're one to talk, Marti.

I walked over to her, immensely happy that she was awake. I wanted to hug her, but Derek was in the way, and she was probably hurt anyways. I knelt down on her other side, grabbing her hand. “Hey, Marti... How are you feeling, honey?” I asked softly, still worried. I shot a glance at Derek, wishing for some confirmation.

As if he read my mind, Derek answered my silent plea. “She's got a big headache, and I don't know if she's got a concussion, but I don't think so. It looks like she's going to need stitches, though. Luckily the wound seems to be mostly superficial, though, other than that. It's not so deep, just wide. She managed to cut herself on the counter somehow, she slipped going down on some water... The ambulance should be here any minute,” He told me brusquely. I nodded dumbly, looking between the two of them. Marti smiled at me lopsidedly.

Sometimes I really forgot just how cute she was. “What he said,” She muttered dimly. She giggled again. “But really, I'm fine. My head doesn't hurt so bad,” She said cheerily. Marti's ability to be herself at all times, utterly fearless and chipper, amazed me. She reached up to play with my hair. “Now, Casey, why's your hair all messy?” I froze at her question, thinking of what I couldn't say before finally giving an appropriate answer.

“Because you're messing it up, silly,” I replied more breezily than I thought I could, tickling her. Derek scowled, and I glanced up at him, communicating a lot with that look. She wasn't just his sister. “Get some alcohol... some mouthwash... I don't care. We should sanitize her wound,” I ordered, clearing my throat, still uncertain as to whether he'd bow to my authority. Surprisingly, Derek did, easing his hand off the bloody dishtowel and reaching over, grabbing mine and pressing it to the cloth, effectively entrusting me with his sister. He sent me a look, and an electric current seemed to pass between us for that moment. Then Derek grimly rose, wiping his hands on his pants, turning to leave. “Oh, and tell Ed and Liz to watch out for the ambulance. They're in the living room,” I added as an afterthought.

Derek merely nodded and went into the living room to do my bidding. It was a strangely hollow feeling, having him finally do what I asked, with such an awful high cost. And, wow, oh, crap. Someone still had to call Mom and George. I pushed that aside, determining to call them when we were at the hospital. I called out for Lizzie, who came in and spotted Marti. She turned a little green around the edges, and I briskly ordered her to grab my phone, my purse, the keys, and Marti's ID and health care card. Lizzie was only too glad to get out of the room and do my bidding.

Nevertheless, as I sat there with Marti, waiting for the ambulance and Derek and Lizzie, I reflected on what had just happened. Derek's cool head under pressure was certainly admirable, as was the way he'd treated Marti's injury. Of course, being a hockey player, he's no stranger to injuries, especially scrapes and head trauma. I talked to her, saying nonsense things to keep her up and laughing rather than unconscious, just in case she really did have a concussion. I was so panicked, wound up tight, whereas Derek just... took control. Watching him do it, too, when we shared that look, I felt this pang.

Like, I don't know... almost like I missed him or something. Like I was looking on what I could've had, maybe?

No, I know what it was. It was the Old Derek, the one I knew, rearing his face again. I'd missed him. That was the Derek I'd grown accustomed to, that was the Derek I'd liked. I had liked Derek, at least. And that, to some degree, was the Derek that took care of Marti that day. I missed Derek the Person, not Derek the Avenger who'd made my life a living hell. It was reassuring to know that he still had feelings, to see it with my own eyes. But I could still remember the depths he'd sunken too before, and that made me leery of him.

Derek came in the room later with the rubbing alcohol, and he smoothed back Marti's hair and poured it slowly on her injury. “Smarti, this is gonna hurt, but it's killing the bacteria, okay?” He warned mere moments before pouring the alcohol on her forehead almost gingerly. Marti let out a sharp hiss and then a few other noises of pain. I dabbed lightly at her forehead, gently wiping away the streams of liquor that tried to rolls in opposite directions. Derek offered her sweet words of praise, and he softened up completely. I stared at him in awe, completely and utterly surprised. Then the paramedics finally came in, all questions and no answers, seizing her and prodding her, and Marti got all distressed, away from her Derek. Derek had to fight his way in there, but he made it into the ambulance with her.

Naturally, I piled the other kids into the car and followed them to the hospital. Eventually I found Derek outside the room where she was being treated. They wouldn't let him inside, and he was, needless to say, more than a little upset. When I came upon him, he was actually happy to see me. I could sense that he was full of questions yet deliberately holding them back. I cleared my throat, wanting to say something, but then I looked up to find Derek staring at me with eerily soft eyes, and I just chickened out. I couldn't think of anything to say.

For a long time it stayed that way. It seemed like Derek couldn't think of anything to say either. He looked strangely discomposed. “You were right, Casey. This... it's not doing anyone any good,” He admitted reluctantly, unable to look at me. The fact that it didn't make him feel any better remained unspoken. He shot a worried glance at the door for a moment, peering at it as if he could see straight through it to his sister inside. He swallowed hard. “And it's hurting more people than just us. Because of me, Marti got hurt. My little sister could've died because I was too busy tormenting you to watch her,” Derek stated in a blunt yet horrified voice. His eyes were dark and sorrowful.

I wanted to comfort him somehow because it had been my fault too. And, in a way, Marti hurting herself wasn't really anyone's fault. It was just an accident. Derek sighed heavily, leaning against the wall, and then he straightened and looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time in a while. “I took it too far this time, Casey, and I'm sorry for that. It just...” He trailed off, strangled, looking like he wanted to rip out his hair or cry. Whatever he wanted to say was clearly too emotional for it to be repeated to me, so he swallowed and tried to regain himself a little. “It spiraled out of my control... It got so out of hand.” I nodded patiently.

If I could have, I might've glared at him, but he was apologizing, and I'd mostly forgotten what had happened, the memories having been replaced with thoughts of Marti injured. Derek nodded stiffly, a determined look passing across his face. “You were right. It's not worth it. It ended a long time ago, and this... sick thing we've got going on now, the thing that I started... that's got to end too. From this point forward we live separate lives,” He swore resolutely, making me a promise with his eyes. For the next awkward moment, he made a gesture like he wanted to shake my hand or pat me on the shoulder, but that was unacceptable, of course. “I won't cause you any more trouble, Casey,” He told me sincerely.

And then the conversation was over. Derek turned away, and, for the first time in his existence, ignored me. I stared at him, shell-shocked. It was an unsettling feeling. I should've felt victorious, but I didn't. Indeed, I felt almost as if I'd lost something. Derek had said he'd stop tormenting me, but everything wasn't going to go back to normal, I realized. The extreme hostility had, at least, been closer to what there'd been before. This... apathy, this ignorance... was unprecedented and strange, almost insulting. So much had happened, yet he was going to act as if we were strangers. It would just be quiet, not spoken of, and that's what I thought I wanted. But I guess I didn't. I guess I just wanted to go back in time.

All that drama and then, what? Suddenly it's all faded out like a puff of smoke, like it never existed. Like some vortex had sucked it up and left me with the void.

The reality was strangely unsatisfying.

- Loren ;*