A/N: So before you read I just wanted to say some things. This is my first crack at life with Derek so no flames yet please. Though nay feed back would be nice. Also I don't own life with Derek. Obviously. So without further nonsense here you go.

I burst through the door of my dorm, my breathe coming in short puffs as my throat closed up. Where is it? Where is it? Thatwas all I thought in my panic. I burst into our tiny bathroom, ripping open all the drawers and cupboards. And then I saw it. My small, shiny savior. I picked up the small razor blade and lifted my head. I rested it on the inside of my wrist, looking up. I paused for a second, looking at my reflection.

My hair was a brown mass; it looked like a nesting place. My mascara had run in thick, black lines. A strange representation of what my life had become. I wasted no more time, I could barely breathe. I dug the razor deep into my wrist, watching the stream of crimson drip into the sink. It had stained the porcelain a bloody red after a few seconds. I sucked in a heavy breathe as I did my other wrist. The tightness in my chest had gone; in its place I felt a web of despair. As my tears fell faster the sink became a mixture of crystals and rubies.

As I stared blankly I thought of why this was the only thing that helped me escape. I'd tried drugs, drinking; sex… none of it seemed to work as well as this. The blood falling was like… like it was taking some of the weight with it. Maybe it was the fact that it was I, I who was making the pain here. Yes, that was it. I'd always taken pride in my own work. This part was all my doing.

The bruise on my cheek however, well that was a different story.

"Why is Sam calling again?" Truman had yelled at me, as he picked up my phone.

"I don't know, it's probably about our science project." I'd tried to shrug it off, but my voice had shook. It always shook when I knew he was going to hit me.

"Why aren't you and I partners!?" He hadn't been there today. We were in all the same classes.

"It—It was teachers pick," I answered, backing away.

"I bet it wasn't. I bet you like him." He came closer to me, so he stood before me. I could feel my legs shaking. "Well Casey," he frowned at me know, like I was a child who had disobeyed him for the last time. His temple also twitched with anger. "You don't." And then he hit me. His hand came at my cheek, as it always did, and nailed me in the side of the face. "You love me, and you always will. Remember that." And then I ran, ran right out the door.

I shuddered at the memory, and dug the razor in again. I got halfway down my wrist when there was a knock on the door. "Casey! Open the door; I don't want to look for my keys." It was Derek. He'd made us late for dorm picking at the beginning of the year. Sharing a room was the punishment.

I didn't answer him of course. Instead I began cleaning my mess. Derek didn't know what was going on with me or in my life. Why should he? He didn't care. I heard him groan as he shuffled through his bag. I was almost done covering my steps; I'd done it enough times that I could do it with my eyes closed. I stepped out of the bathroom as he walked through the door.

"Hey," I said in a monotone voice.

"What happened to your cheek?" He looked mildly concerned, that was a step up. My cheek. I'd forgotten to cover it, no wonder I'd made record time.

"Oh I—" I covered it with my hand sub consciously. "I fell."

"You fell? On your face?" He frowned as if debating whether or not to believe my story. "Well you are Casey," he said, finally, with a sigh of defeat.

Why had I been worried? Derek never looked close enough to read between the lines anyway. "I'm going to bed," I announced, before climbing on to the top bunk. Why Derek had given me the top bunk was something I'd never figured out, though I'd never given it much thought.

"Aren't you going to study for the chemistry test?" Derek, in some bout of bizarreness, had also taken all the classes I took. Though his education was free; he played on the hockey team.

"Nah. I just did that." I yawned and rolled over, would he just shut up already. What was with the inquisition?

"I thought you were going to Truman's." He flopped onto his bed and began pulling out his books. He had definitely paid some attention today.

"And I thought you were at what's her names till 11 or whenever," I snapped back.

"Well Stacy," he emphasized her name. Who cared what her name was. "Wasn't really fun. In fact none of these girls are fun." He huffed and I felt like he was trying to get some point across. That was, I thought, the weirdest thing Derek had ever said. Though he had grown up a lot in the few months we'd been here.

"Why don't you just get a girlfriend…" I paused before adding, "And a life." He mumbled something back, but I didn't hear him. I pulled my blanket around me and rolled over. Sleep of course, wasn't coming. I hated going to bed. The darkness always spoke to me, it made me think. It forced thoughts of my broken life into my head. Thoughts I definitely didn't want to have and hid in the fiery depths of my mind. I hadn't gone to sleep with dry eyes in a long time. Tonight was no different. Well almost.

I was mid-thought, mid-tears when Derek, in all his incredibly annoying nosiness, broke the silence. "What do you see in him anyway?" He said, his voice taking on a frustrated tone. I pretended to be asleep. "Come on Casey, I know you're awake. You snore."

Before I could stop myself I fell into my old argumentative self. "I do not snore!"

"I know, but now I know you're awake." He chuckled lightly. "Now answer the question."

"What do I see in who?" I tried to stall.

"Truman." He said blandly, seeing through my stall.

I really didn't know what to say, so I went with describing the old Truman. "He's sweet and…" Then I thought of a better way to shut him up. "And a good kisser." Derek wouldn't want to talk about this with me. No way.

"Probably not as good as me." He let his ego melt into his words a little. Only a little though, the rest of the tone was… unknown to me.

"What are you suggesting?" I went for the blunt approach.

"I'm not saying anything."

"Sure." And that was the end of the conversation. But definitely not the end of the night, the night was always everlasting for me.

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