Disclaimer: I do not own "Life With Derek" or any of its characters. Neither do I own any of the lyrics used as quotes (noted) or as chapter titles (which come from the song quoted). This goes for every chapter, but this is the only one which I will post this disclaimer in. No copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter 1: This Feels So Unreal
I'm on my knees
Only memories
Are left for me to hold
- Kate Havnevik, Grace
Rolling over in bed, Nora came face to face with her eldest daughter--or, rather, the substitute that would never come close to her. Frozen in time, a fifteen-year old Casey beamed at her, all big blue eyes and white teeth. She took a moment to gaze at her lost child. She should have been finishing up her junior year. Maybe she was doing just that. But for all Nora knew, Casey could have been lying dead on the side of the road.
Wiping tears from her eyes, Nora reached over for the remote on the nightstand. As the mother pressed play, the television screen--added to their bedroom at her insistence--sprung vividly to life and there she was.
"Der-ek!" Casey whirled around, glaring and curling her fists as she prepared to free the beast within. Her face was covered in sticky green paste that any woman or teenage girl would have recognized immediately was some kind of beauty mask. "You have no consideration for anyone in this house besides yourself!" Derek matched her step for step, keeping out of hitting distance. "You don't even look after Marti half the time because your head is too far up your own ass, trying to protect itself!" She screeched like a banshee.
"Hey! That's not true. I always look after Marti," Derek snapped back defensively.
"Ha!" It appeared that Casey had temporarily forgotten her current state because her eyes lit up with the spark of battle. "What about the time when she collapsed under your hockey equipment and you were too busy trying to convince me to lie for you to stop and help her? Huh?" There was a pause.
"What about the time that you made Lizzie sneak into my room to steal my White Stripes tickets?" Derek shot back off camera. A look of guilt flashed across Casey's face. It was quickly replaced with fierce determination.
"What about the time when you made Edwin stay up all night to work on your science project?"
"Hey! I paid him!"
"Well, what about the way you turn Edwin into your own personal slave?"
"It's no different from you using Lizzie, Mrs. Pot." Casey gasped in outrage. Then she picked up a large pillow and started beating him with it. "Derek! You, you, ugh!"
"Hey! Watch the camera!" At which point, the camera rattled and went to fuzz just before going black.
After a moment, the screen was once again full of color and another scene with Casey played out before her eyes. Nora mouthed along with the words, she had memorized them so very long ago.
"Nora?" George's voice called her tentatively. The brunette tried to tear her eyes from the screen, but she just couldn't. 'Not today.' Any other day, she could and would have, but on the one-year anniversary, it just wasn't possible.
"Yeah, honey?" she managed to answer, still transfixed.
"Do you want some breakfast?" She didn't hear him. George crossed the room, carrying a large tray full of breakfast food. "Nora?" He gently shook her shoulder. Acting on raw impulse, Nora wrenched her arm out of his grip and pulled herself away from him.
"Just leave me alone!" she shouted. George teetered back and forth a bit, but steadied himself and gave her a worried look. Quickly pressing pause, she motioned for him to put the tray on the nightstand and as soon as he complied, she embraced him tightly and apologized profusely. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, George then kissed her forehead and drew her in closer.
"It's okay, sweetie. I know. I know," he said soothingly.
"Oh, George, I don't think she's ever coming back," Nora moaned, heart aching with the deepest sorrow. Lost for words, her husband just rubbed her back in an attempt to ease her pain.
In the beginning, George had always replied to such statements with reassurances that of course Casey would return. But as the months went by, his "of course" turned into "maybe" and then avoidance. They had talked to many grief counselors, but George was never sure whose advice he should listen to. Two of them thought that George should continue to fill Nora with hope of a positive outcome, but three others thought that he needed to ground her in the truth. Terrified of shattering his wife, George teetered in-between the two and said neither. Unbeknownst to him, Nora wished more than anything--other than the return of her missing child, that is--that he would just say something.
When George returned to the kitchen to finish making breakfast, he found Lizzie and Edwin had beat him to it. Lizzie was scrambling eggs and Edwin was frying up bacon.
"Thanks, guys," he said appreciatively, patting his stepdaughter's shoulder and ruffling his son's hair. It hadn't escaped George's notice how much the middle children had stepped up to help out after that fateful day. Despite how hard the loss had been on them, especially Lizzie, both had often pressed on to do what was best for the family, especially when it came to Marti. 'Speaking of Marti, she should be up by now. Maybe I should go check on her.'
"Hey, have either of you seen Marti yet today?" George asked.
"She slept with Derek last night," Edwin answered. After a pause he added, "I don't think she wanted to be alone last night."
"Oh. Well, I'll them be then." As soon as the blonde picked up the mail key and left the room, Lizzie shot Edwin a meaningful glance.
"Yeah, I know that she said that she didn't want him to be alone, but I think it's still true." Rolling her eyes, Lizzie turned off the burner and turned to grab plates from the cabinet. She counted out five and then pulled out glasses for the two of them.
"What do you want to drink?" she asked as she pulled open the fridge door.
"Um, I'll take milk," Edwin decided.
"Okay." Lizzie poured a glass of milk for Edwin and then chose orange juice for herself. Frowning, the second youngest Venturi turned off the burner on his side and scraped the bacon onto a side plate. Then he served himself and his stepsister, trying to ignore the strained silence filling the room.
When they sat down at the kitchen island and started eating, Edwin decided to say something.
"Are you okay?" Lizzie froze for a moment, her expression flat and impossible to read.
"I don't want to talk about it," she answered quietly, sounding firm, but not angry.
"But, we always talk about stuff."
"Not today, Edwin. I don't want to talk about it today," she replied, her voice rising dangerously.
"Okay, but I'm here if you change your mind," he offered sweetly. He swallowed and looked down at his plate. They ate in silence for a few minutes more, then Edwin decided to try again. "I understand how you feel Lizzie. We all really miss her."
As soon as he lifted his gaze to look at her, Edwin realized that he had said the wrong thing. The anger that he had incited in his best friend was written all over his face.
"No you don't. You don't understand anything!" She dropped her fork and jumped out of her chair. "She was my sister! You just lived with her for a few years! That doesn't mean that you get to call her 'family' or pretend that you miss her as much as I do. You still have Marti and Derek! You see them every day and you know that they're still alive and okay when you see them every morning!" Tears were streaming down her face as she vented all of her anger and pain on Edwin, whose eyes were wide with shock and fear. "You weren't abandoned by your sister!" Then Lizzie fled the room, running up the stairs as her chest heaved with painful sobs.
Edwin was glued to his seat, stunned and a little hurt by his stepsister's reaction. They had all loved Casey. He knew that he wasn't really Casey's younger brother, but he had often felt like he was and he missed her. He worried about her. Where had she gone? What was she doing? Why wouldn't she call? Didn't she care? His chest constricted as he ignored the voice that whispered, 'Is she even alive?' He didn't want to consider the possibility that there was any possible answer other than yes.
When Derek woke up, he was alone in his bed. 'Marti probably got hungry and couldn't wait any longer.' His stomach growled hungrily at the thought of food, but then he remembered what day it was. A feeling of loss crept over him and Derek decided that he just wanted to find Marti. Though he would never admit it to anyone else, it had been a great comfort to have his little sister with him the night before.
The house was oddly quiet, but he supposed that it wasn't too abnormal considering the grief that they were all so painfully reminded of on that particular day. Still, when he walked down the stairs and was greeted with an empty living room, he was surprised. He had expected to find Marti sitting on the couch, eating breakfast while she watched cartoons. 'Maybe Dad is making her eat at the table.' But chills were slowly creeping up his spine as he hesitantly walked to the kitchen. There was no noise to indicate that anyone else was even home.
"Hello?" he called to the empty house, panic seizing his stomach in vice-like grip. There was no answer. Walking quickly, Derek crossed the room and knocked on the basement door. Again, he got no reply. When he walked down the stairs and checked inside the room, there was no one there. He ran back up the stairs and then up to the second floor.
"Lizzie?" he called anxiously, pounding on her door. He waited about thirty seconds before he opened it and, once again, found only an empty bedroom. Without bothering to close the door, Derek jogged out of her room and up to the attic. "Edwin?" His voice was rising with fear as he suddenly found it more difficult to breathe. 'Where are they?' Pausing for two seconds, he then barged into his little brother's room and almost wasn't surprised to see that he was gone.
Running now, he stumbled on the stairs and caught himself on the railing as adrenaline shot through his veins like a jet stream. 'Where is everyone?' Eyes darting around wildly, he then caught sight of Marti's door. 'Of course! How could I forget about Marti? Surely, Marti will be there.'
He walked slowly to her room, fear keeping him from opening the door. 'Don't be stupid.' Ripping the door open, he was greeted with another empty room. His heart thudded painfully in his chest. 'Not Marti.' Derek whirled around and ran for the stairs. Maybe he had missed something. Surely, they had all gone out to breakfast and left him a note or something like that. But he combed the kitchen and living room with meticulous precision and came up empty-handed.
Desperate for answers, he ran out the front door and onto the lawn. 'Emily!' By this point, he just wanted to see a familiar face. It didn't matter much whose it was. So he skidded to a stop on their front porch and impatiently banged on their door several times. Then he rang the bell continuously, looking through the windows on the door to look for a sign that someone was home. The house was empty.
Stumbling backwards, he looked around and noticed that he was the only one out on the street. Considering that it was probably mid-morning or almost noon, this was very abnormal. Derek set out at a run and started heading towards nowhere in particular.
"Hello?" He huffed and panted as he looked around wildly, searching for some indication that he wasn't the only one left. Suddenly he found himself in front of Sam's house. "Sam?" He threw open the front door without a moment's hesitation and darted through the living room and kitchen. There wasn't another person in sight. He hurtled up the stairs and barreled into his best friend's room. "Sam?"
After he checked the rest of the house, he stumbled back out into the street.
"Hello? Is anybody out there?" 'I can't be the only one left. They can't all be gone!' "Hello?"
"No!" Derek's eyes shot open and he felt the slick of sweat on the back of his neck and the edges of his face.
"Smerek?" Big doe brown eyes appeared in his line of vision and he relaxed a little. "Smerek, are you okay?" Marti asked, concern lining her face as she gazed down at her older brother.
"Just a bad dream, Smarti," Derek assured her as he pulled her down for a hug. His arms tightened as fear and a great sense of loss swelled in his chest. "Just a bad dream." Thinking about Casey, his eyes drifted to the picture pinned onto the wall by his computer. It was a picture of the two of them at Casey's sixteenth birthday party.
They had grown closer over that year and though they still bickered and even fought a lot, they had also become friends. When they posed, Derek had his arm slung casually around her waist and Casey had her arm around his back as she leaned on his shoulder. But when the picture snapped, the birthday girl was partially bent over--caught mid-laugh--and Derek was laughing too, but there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye. If you looked over at his fingers digging into her tender sides, you'd understand why.
"Der-ek," a giggle, "stop!"
"Smerek?" He snapped back to the present and turned to smile at his sister. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm okay." Ruffling her hair affectionately, Derek sat up and gently deposited Marti on the floor. "You go get dressed and I'll meet you in the kitchen, okay, Smarti?"
"Okay, Smerek!" Grinning widely, happy to see that her big brother was all right, the little girl skipped out of the room and went straight into the bathroom. Derek closed his door with a rueful smile and got dressed himself, glad that he had showered the night before.
As he combed his hair, looking in the mirror, his mind flew back to one of the many moments that had haunted his memory since she had left.
"Well, fine, Derek. If us, McDonalds have taken over your house then maybe we should just leave!" Casey yelled, almost looking tearful.
"Oh, right, like I believe that for a second," he snapped, following her down the stairs. He barely registered the sight of Lizzie, Edwin, and Marti watching TV on the sofa before he continued, "You won't be satisfied until every last one of us is a freaky robotic droid, like you," he sneered.
"Oh, so now it's just me who's the problem?" Casey demanded, fear flashing briefly in her eyes. Derek went for the kill.
"Do you notice anyone butting in to defend you?" The teenage girl's face fell and pride swelled in her stepbrother's chest. Victory!' A grin spread across his face as silence filled the air. "Well, I guess you've got your answer."
"All right then. I'll go," she proclaimed defiantly, hesitation written all over her face. She was hoping that someone would jump up and declare that they wanted her to stay.
"Sure, sure, Drama Queen."
"I mean it!" Casey insisted, turning to her sister and stepsiblings on the couch--praying that one of them would stop her from going. A fierce determination filled her eyes as she started towards the door. "Guys, I'm really leaving and don't even try to stop me because I'm gone!"
"We won't," Derek assured her as he grabbed her from behind. Casey jumped in surprise as he pushed her the rest of the way to the door. Still holding on to her, he opened the door for her and handed her things as he nudged her the rest of the way out. Then, smirking triumphantly, he closed the door in her face--ignoring her shocked and pained expression.
Derek rubbed his temple, as if he could somehow wipe the memory from his mind by doing so. He couldn't spend the whole day wallowing in guilt. His family needed him. Marti needed him. So, steeling himself for the day ahead, he left his room in search of his younger sister.
It was a quiet day in the Macdonald-Venturi household. Besides talking to Marti, the rest of the family didn't really speak to each other unless it was necessary. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts and memories of the girl who had been gone for so long.
When George passed by Casey's room on his way to fix the sink faucet in the upstairs bathroom, he paused and his mind rolled back to shortly before his stepdaughter vanished.
After Casey refused to come down to dinner, it was George who went upstairs to talk to her. He patiently knocked on her door and waited to be invited in.
"Who is it?" she called from inside, trying to sound as if she hadn't been crying.
"It's me," George answered. "Can I come in?"
"Sure." Opening the door, he saw Casey sitting at her desk, putting her journal into a drawer. The blonde stepped inside and gently shut the door behind him, knowing that his teenage stepdaughter would want her privacy. George sat down on the bed and patted next to him in hopes that she would join him. Slightly reluctantly, she complied with his request.
"What's wrong, Casey?" The girl in question shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Despite the fact that they grown closer over the last few years, she still felt awkward talking to her stepfather about her problems. It was easier for her to talk to Lizzie or her mother, but since he was sweet enough to try to help, Casey felt that she ought to at least try to talk to him.
"I just," she stopped and swallowed nervously, "I've been having a hard time with the family lately," she confessed, not meeting his eyes. George nodded in silent agreement. "I mean, things have never been that smooth around here, but it's been kind of chaotic lately."
"I wouldn't worry about it too much, Casey. Things will go back to normal. You'll see," he assured her. Casey didn't look convinced, but when George opened his arms to hug her, she awkwardly returned the embrace.
'I wish I had taken her more seriously.' The stepfather's eyes flicked to the stairs. How many times had he watched her run up those stairs looking distraught in those last few months? How often had he shrugged it off as teenage drama when deep down he knew that the problems were much more serious? That old familiar feeling of guilt plagued him once again. 'We should've listened to Paul. Maybe if we'd just tried family counseling…' With a sigh, he passed the chillingly empty room. 'There's no point in dwelling on the past when you can't change it.'
After sulking in her room all morning--since breakfast--Lizzie leaned against her door and listened for noise in the hallway. After a couple of minutes passed without a sound, she determined that it was safe to venture out from her room. Begging the hinges to be quiet, she carefully peeled open her door and sneaked across the hall to Casey's room. Whether she came back or not, it would always be Casey's room. It alone would stand as a silent monument to the otherwise forgotten girl who had once lived there. When all of the pictures were put away, and the home movies were locked up in boxes and hidden away on tall shelves, that room would remain the same--always waiting for her to come home.
Lizzie walked inside--the door was open for that day--and looked at all of her sister's belongings that had been left behind. She walked slowly and softly, feeling as if she was walking on hollowed ground and somehow defiling it by her presence. Though she knew that Casey had been gone for a year, and her mother had spent countless nights in that room, Lizzie felt as if her sister would walk in at any moment and chastise her for invading her privacy. She wished she would.
A strange urge overcame the youngest McDonald to touch her sister's possessions, a part of her feeling as if somehow, somewhere, Casey might know and be so incited with anger that she would be forced to return. So, after a moment of hesitation, Lizzie sat down at Casey's makeup table and picked up the blush brush. She dipped it into the pink powder and then gently swiped it across her cheek. Then she held her breath.
After a minute passed, she put the brush back down and was overcome with disappointment. It wasn't as if she really thought that it would work, but she was desperate and missed her older sibling horribly. A spark of anger flickered inside of her. 'How could she do this to me? How could she just leave me like this?' Lizzie jumped to her feet, sending the chair sprawling to the floor. Normally, she would've winced and felt a little embarrassed, but no such feelings rose up in her. As a matter of fact, it had felt good, really good.
'Ha! It would drive Casey crazy if she knew that something wasn't in its proper place.' Acting of their own volition, her fingers snaked out and tipped a can of pencils onto the floor. A thrill shot through her. 'Well, that's going to take a while to clean up.' A book followed. 'Too bad you're not here to do it.'
Then everything blurred together. Suddenly, CD cases were flying at the wall and books were being chucked across the room. Pictures and posters were savagely ripped down from where they hung and were flung over her shoulder. Blood boiled in her veins and her heart beat wildly in her chest. She wanted to destroy everything. She wanted to take apart the room that her sister had so painstakingly put together. She wanted to cause so much damage that--wherever she was--Casey would feel it, and it would hurt.
Derek was startled out of a daze when he heard a loud crash coming from upstairs. He turned his head and listened. There was a loud bang and it sounded as if it was coming from Casey's room.
"Hey, Marti, you stay here and finish watching cartoons. I'm going to go upstairs, okay?"
"Okay." Derek plucked his sister off of his lap and placed her in front of his recliner. Then he stood up and placed her in his former spot with care.
Taking the steps two at a time, George's eldest son raced to the top and ripped open Casey's door. Then he froze to the spot, horrified by the sight before him. 'I can't believe it.' Taking in the scene around him, he really couldn't believe it. It was complete chaos. Books, CD's, journals, posters, pictures, clothing…it was a disaster.
"Lizzie, what are you doing?" He cried incredulously.
"Why does it matter?" she yelled, picking up a vase and chucking it at the wall. The smash was incredibly satisfying to her ears, but something inside of Derek ached. "She's not coming back." Blindsided, Derek's mouth fluttered open and shut repeatedly.
"You don't know that," he replied defensively, wide-eyed and breathless. It felt something akin to having a gigantic Band-Aid ripped off, taking tiny pieces of skin along with it.
"Of course I do! We all do," Lizzie retorted harshly. Derek wanted to shake her and snap her out of the crazy fit that he was sure she was having. "Face the facts, Derek," she spat out his name, "Casey abandoned us and she is never coming home." Then she laughed bitterly. "This isn't even her home anymore! She's made that painfully clear." Lizzie's eyes flashed with fury. "And I hate her."
"Lizzie--"
"I do, Derek! I hate Casey and I hope that she never comes back!"
The room was encompassed by silence and then there was a tiny, sharp intake of air. Both pairs of eyes searched out the sound and fell on the small, shocked, frightened little girl. Marti's eyes filled with tears and she flew from the room without a word.
"Marti! Wait!" Derek sped after her, mind whirling as he tried to figure out exactly how much she could have heard. His sister was by no means a fragile girl, but he'd seen the look of devastation on her face when she realized that the note was no joke--and Casey was truly gone, if only for a while--and knew that it wouldn't take much more for her to crumble.
The bathroom door slammed in his face and the lock clicked with finality. He knocked gently, hands shaking with trepidation.
"Smarti?" 'Months…a whole year of working so hard to protect her from all this and in one moment, Lizzie spoils everything.'
"Go away, Derek!" He frowned in confusion. She only responded to "Smarti" with "Derek" instead of "Smerek" when she was mad at him.
"Come on, Smarti, let me in," he entreated.
"No!"
"Why not?"
"Because you gave up! You don't think she's coming back either. No one does!" Soft sniffles and sobs leaked through the cracks in the doorframe. "That's why she won't come home. She thinks that no one wants her here!"
"Marti, that's not true," Derek insisted. 'Well, the part about me giving up isn't anyway.' "I think that Casey is coming back," he added half-heartedly. Did he really still believe that, or was he just in denial? Derek wasn't sure.
"No you don't! You don't and you're a liar!"
"What's going on?" Edwin asked, coming up beside him. Derek jumped a little, wondering where Edwin had come from.
"I'll explain later. Go talk to Lizzie, okay? She's in Casey's room." He looked wary, but nodded and did as he was told.
"Lizzie?" Edwin peeked into Casey's room, but his stepsister was nowhere to be seen. Looking around at the wreckage, he quickly figured out what had happened. He spun around and headed for Lizzie's room, assuming that she had retreated there. Edwin knocked on her door and though he heard shuffling around inside, no one answered. "Come on, Liz. Let me in." Suddenly, the door flew open and Lizzie stood in front of him, looking coldly furious.
"Only on one condition."
"Okay," Ed prompted.
"No Casey talk."
"But--" Edwin sighed in defeat. "Just let me ask you one thing." After a moment of silent contemplation, Lizzie nodded and let him inside her room. He walked in and sat down on her bed. "Why?"
"Because I'm tired of her selfishness. Casey thinks about no one but herself. She didn't care that she devastated the entire family when she left," Lizzie answered, walking around her room and spot cleaning. She seemed oblivious to how similar she was behaving to the girl that she proclaimed to despise.
"You don't know that."
"Yes I do. Why hasn't she come back? Why hasn't she even called? I'll tell you why. She doesn't give a damn."
"Lizzie, this isn't like you."
"Sure it is." Edwin stood up and grasped her by the shoulders.
"No, it isn't. The Lizzie I know has never been so callous." She shrugged him off and walked back to her door.
"Fine. Maybe I have changed," she ripped a picture of her and Casey off of the wall. "Maybe I am callous." Lizzie shred the picture in half and then repeated the process until it all fluttered into her trash can in tiny pieces. "When your body is exposed to the same kind of damage over and over again, you eventually adapt and the skin becomes tougher, thicker. Why should your heart be any different?"
He had no answer for that.
A/N: So, I hope this chapter turned out all right. It's hard to keep everyone in character when emotions are running high and you have to try to predict how each one would react in this kind of situation. I did my best and hopefully it doesn't suck. Lol. I know that this chapter's kind of boring, but I promise that they will get better. I just felt that I had to address their loss before I could move on with the plot.
I made a trailer to go along with this (or, actually, I made this story to go along with my trailer). Since the link wouldn't copy, just go to my profile and click on my homepage. Under my videos, you'll see one titled "Trailer - The Vanishing Year". That's the one.