A/N: Okay, I really have no idea how I feel about this. It is way to short, but I do like some parts. Really though, the only reason I'm publishing this is because everyone was really nice to me in the reviews for my first story. Thank you guys who reviewed! This is dedicated to you!

I guess you could call this a companion fic to Her Punching Bag, if you squint. Whatever.

The thing that she hated the most about him was that he took away control.

She needed the control, craved it really, like a drug. Control kept everything in order, kept her superior and cold, kept her world safe. Control gave her power over everything, she had a say in everything.

She remembered the days of her parents divorce, how they just kept fighting no matter what she did to stop it, how the yelling just got louder and she couldn't stop it. How Lizzie would cry at night and she wanted to scream at her to shut up and everything was so pointless and no matter what she did nothing turned out perfect and fairytale and safe.

Those days, she vowed, would never come back.

As soon as she looked into his eyes, she was that scared, helpless little 10-year-old, small and insignificant. He had this look on his face that screamed superior, screamed that she could make all the rules she wanted, he would always break them.

And the worst part of it all was she couldn't even keep control over herself around him. She reacted without her own consent, passionately and stupidly and so without control. Everything was hard and fast and intense she thought she might explode. It was something like spinning, so fast everything was blurred, always with the risk of falling. Always with the feeling in her stomach that made her want to scream, because she was truly going to be sick with fear.

She couldn't be around him, so she pushed him away. She shoved blindly, throwing words and punches, all in an effort to regain control.

But he'd always come back, assured and unruffled, and even though every cell in her body screamed to run away, keep control, stay strong, she would always lose it to his eyes. Those stupid brown eyes that always made her feel so insignificant.

She just kept losing control to him, and she couldn't stop. It was sick, but she kept coming back for that spinning intensity and that feeling she couldn't name. She came back, day after day, losing control every time, but soon she just didn't care. At this point, control was gone forever, and she couldn't bring herself to care.

He became her new drug, her new control. She craved the rush, the reckless feeling of just letting go and being free. Her pulse would pound, her breath would speed up, her mind would race. Suddenly thrill addicts didn't seem so crazy at all, just stupid for not finding the real thrill of Derek.

She didn't know how he did it. How did he make her lose herself in him?

Ugh. I'm really annoyed at how short this is. Seriously. I'll probably add more if I have time, but for right now this is it. This is one of my views on Casey and why she's such a spaz (in a good way, usually). This is also why I think she freaks out on Derek as much as she does. Just my opinion. This was way different in my mind, but I can never really translate from my head to the computer anyways.

Blah, now I really don't like this, looking at it again. Review, tell me what you think. I'll do better next time, I promise!