Disclaimer: You know. I do not own Life with Derek. All I own are my stories.

A/N: Please stop and take the time to review this chapter. I'd like to know what I could do to make this story better.

Chapter 2… Last Resort

x o x x o casey's p.o.v. o x x o x

Somehow I ended up telling my mother how long I had been doing… What I was doing… I told her 2 months. I couldn't keep my eyes open for most of the conversation. She asked 'Why?' so many times, but I just couldn't tell her. And after a while she accepted that and got up off the floor and started pacing, hands folded tightly against her body as if she was holding herself together. It was killing me. I felt a bit of my heart whither away as I watched her continue her fretful walk.

"Casey," she finally stopped, her back turned away from me and towards the door. "We'll talk about this tomorrow… Okay?"

I gave a curt nod that she couldn't see and walked quietly past her. It was so silent I heard as the soles of my shoes shuffled on the carpet and felt her eyes on my back as I left.

The next day I stared incredulously across the counter at her. Group Therapy? I thought, Has she gone insane? It was hard enough accepting that I needed Paul, but this? This is completely absurd. "What?" I said, one word seemingly doing justice to how I felt about the arrangement.

"Casey, it's the only thing we can afford. Money is so tight, we can't afford a real therapist or to send you to the hospital," she said. I shuddered at the thought of being hooked up to IVs forcing nutrition into my body by unnatural means. "George agrees," she said. I tensed at George's name, almost forgetting that he knew as well. "We really think it's for the best."

I closed my eyes and put my hands to my temple, trying to sooth my aching head with my fingertips. It had been the most awkward Saturday morning, save for my first one in the Venturi-MacDonald household. Derek hadn't made a smart remark as he walked past me in the hallway and into the bathroom, just paused to cast a lengthy glance at me. Almost everybody else chose this path of communication of their feelings as well, except for Marti, who looked up at me and asked, "Casey, are you really sick?"

My mouth opened and closed in attempt to form a response, but luckily I was saved (well, not exactly) by the sound of my mom's voice floating up the stairs, asking me to join her in the kitchen.

"I…I don't know what else to do, Case," my mother said, bringing my thoughts back to the more pressing matter of possibly being stuck in a room full of total strangers talking about my problems. I opened my eyes to see that hers were tearing up again like they had last night and I felt my whole body tense at the pain I felt radiating off of her.

"Alright," I said, willing her not to go on. I didn't think I could take it. "I'll do it."

And as we pulled up to the recreation buildings of a park I had never been to the next day, I could help but think, What have I gotten myself into?

x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x x o x

I sat with my hands twisting in my lap as she cleared her throat. "Hello everyone, my name is Lisa. I'm a group therapy counselor trained to work with young girls such as yourselves," she paused for a second to flash a bright smile, making me twist uncomfortably. She had to be in her mid-twenties. And it didn't help that she had a GREAT body. The kind of body you could tell would take forever to sculpt if you were say, me. "Alright everyone, I want –"

But she was cut off by the door opening loudly in the corner of the room. And in walked the most beautiful girl I've ever seen up close. I'm not kidding. She made you think of what Catherine Zeta-Jones must have looked like as a teenager. All eyes were on her and she flashed an unabashed smile and said, "Sorry I'm late." Her voice was like honey and I was in a trance. Until that lady named Lisa cleared her throat once more. My eyes flitted from Lisa to where the girl was now taking a seat next to me, her chocolate brown locks falling partially into her face. Before she could look up again, I made sure to lock my eyes back onto Lisa, who had continued speaking and was now pointing at me and saying, "…Let's start with you."

"Huh?" I said, furrowing my brows in confusion. I began to notice peoples' eyes on me as I continued to look like an idiot. "Sorry, what was that?" I mumbled, looking up at Lisa half-heartedly.

"Tell us your name and where you go to school," she said, taking a seat in a chair slightly bigger than the rest of ours.

"Oh," I said, caught off-hand. Well, simple enough, I thought. "I'm Casey, I go to Jefferson High."

"Alright," Lisa said, a little too merrily if you ask me, "Everyone, say hi to Casey!"

There were mumbled 'heys' and 'hellos' but only one true 'hi Casey' to my right. And I looked to see the pretty girl flashing a small, closed mouth smile and holding out her hand for me to shake. I took it hesitantly and tried to flash her a smile as well, but it turned into more of a grimace and I turned away, feeling my cheeks begin to heat up.

"Okay. You next, please…" Lisa said, pointing to the pretty girl.

"Amy," she said, flashing another smile. "I go to Jefferson too," she added, looking over at me a second before turning to Lisa and everyone else. Instantly my face twisted in further confusion. I had never seen her around. She must be a junior or a senior. More likely than not, it would be the latter. Thoughts such as these bombarded my mind, only lengthening my growing list of questions. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder and jerked, seeing Amy looking over at me, a perfectly manicured hand still on my shoulder.

"Are you alright?" she asked, seeming strangely concerned.

"Yeah, why?" I said, so it all sounded like one word. She gestured to Lisa, who was handing out index cards, quickly approaching our section of the circle. "Oh," I said simply. I stretched my arm out in anticipation and soon felt the card placed gently in my hand.

"Now, I want you to pretend this is your card," Lisa said after making sure everyone had a card. She was pointing at an easel with a giant version of our cards that asked six questions; Name, nickname, age, grade, I am here because…, and my personal goal is…

I started filling in the blanks as I saw everyone else with their pencils scratching the paper. "Casey, Case, 16, 10th, I am here because…" I paused, taking a moment to bite my lip and look around the room at all the people, bent over their cards, answering the same questions. "Because I need help."