Disclaimer: I do not own Life with Derek.

A/N: Very sorry about not updating sooner. The site is really whacked out. It took forever and a day of negotiation just to upload this one chapter. Needless to say, it's all been very frustrating.

Chapter 8… Not After Something Like This…

x o x x o derek's p.o.v. o x x o x

I felt my eyes twitch with discomfort as I continued to look at the monitor of my computer, a sharp brightness in the surrounding darkness. The website came up and I reached for the mouse.

'Call a professional immediately to discuss the options if you or someone you know has an eating disorder. Do not take a wait-and-see approach.'

I scrolled down quickly and found a hotline number at the bottom of the screen. I then proceeded to search frantically for my cell phone to find it was right next to the computer. Sighing at my stupidity, I reached for it and dialed the number of the hotline.

"Hello, this is a confidential hotline, how may I help you tonight?" a female voice stated at the other end.

"Yeah, hi, my stepsister. She's bulimic… She uh, just started group therapy sessions, but I think she's still… Well, you know…" I said quickly, rambling it all out quietly. Tears stung at my eyes. This all was so insane. The skin of my stomach was still tingling where I had felt how concave she was.

"Okay… Has she been diagnosed yet? And have your parents considered other options of treatment?" she asked.

"I don't know if she's been diagnosed or anything, but I overheard that money's tight so they can't afford a hospital trip or anything like that…" I said, rubbing at the sleep in my eyes.

"Most Insurance companies can cover most of those costs. Do you know the name of your family Insurance Company?"

"Uh, Canada Health I think," I said, staring up at the ceiling.

I heard the clicking of a keyboard on the other line. "Well, Canada Health unfortunately does not cover that many treatment options. But it does cover a trip to the doctors to get diagnosed."

"Great, who do I call?" I asked, searching for a pen and paper.

"Okay, you ready?" she asked.

I picked up a piece of paper from the floor and poised the pen above its surface. God, my hand is shaking…

"Yeah."

"Okay, the number is 555-8274 for Dr. Knowles office. He specializes in matters of the digestive tract. Hours are 8 to 6. I suggest you set up an appointment within the next three days," she said. "Anything else I can do?"

"Uh…" I said, wondering if I should really talk to her about it. "What could make someone do something like this? I mean, she used to be so confident…"

"Well, it's usually a need to be perfect or have control. After a while it feels like the only thing you can control…" she said. I could swear she was talking from past experience.

"This whole thing is so scary. No one knows how to talk to her… I was kind of mean to her about it, but I think… I think it's just 'cause I want things to go back to normal," I finished.

"I understand… But… You need to realize… After something like this, it's never really normal again…" she said.

"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of…"

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

"Dad, I think we should call a doctor about all of this," I said the next morning as my dad brushed his teeth.

He leaned slightly to spit before looking into the mirror at me. "Don't worry Derek. We already have. We have an appointment all set for Friday. Just… It's best that you stay out of all of this," he said, returning the brush to its holder and passing me into his bedroom.

"Dad, I just… I just want to help," I said, keeping my eyes on his face as he turned to look at me in disbelief.

"Last night you were a pain in the ass. Where is all this coming from?" my dad said, looking away from me and at his dresser, pulling the top drawer open and picking out a pair of socks.

"Well, I just feel really bad about that," I said, watching him proceed to look through his button-up shirts.

He paused his impatient ruffling of hangers and turned to me. "Well, you could be a little more encouraging for starters," he said, a bit of anger traceable in his voice.

"Alright," I said. He just went back to picking out a shirt.

Noticing that my presence was no longer exactly welcome, I trudged back up to the kitchen to see that Casey still wasn't there. Just Edwin.

"Where's Casey?" I asked, taking a seat at the counter and rubbing at my eyes. I had ended up talking to that chick for another hour. It really did calm me down, but after I hung up, more questions came and I finally just fell into this on and off sleep.

"Long night, D?" Edwin asked, taking a long sip of orange juice.

"Sure," I said, not really pausing to hear his response before repeating my question. "Where's Casey?"

"I don't know. Lizzie just went up there to check on her I think," Edwin said, setting down his glass and casting me a distressed look. "This is all pretty serious isn't it?" he asked. I don't think he even truly knew what exactly was going on, but I nodded all the same.

"Yep, it is," I said. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed two figures coming down the stairs. It was Lizzie, followed by a reluctant, exhausted looking Casey.

"Finally got her up," Lizzie stated uncomfortably once they reached the kitchen. My eyes met with Casey's for a grand total of three seconds, before she broke the contact and moved around the counter.

"Is it your personal goal to make me miserable," Casey snapped, taking a seat on the other side of Edwin, head held precariously in her hands.

"I'm just trying to help," Lizzie snapped back. I looked over at her in surprise. She just never struck me as the angry type.

Casey just sighed and slid off the stool. "I'm gonna go get ready."

Once she was out of earshot, I turned to look at Lizzie. "You shouldn't talk to her like that," I said, "This is all hardest on her."

"I know that, but she's just so… Irritable. And she acts like we have no idea what she's going through, like life is so hard on just her," Lizzie said, shaking her head in frustration.

"Yeah, but Liz, we really don't know what it is she's going through," I said, shaking my own head to further prove my point. I mean, really, we have no idea. Sure, talking to that chick last night had helped me to understand Casey's choices a lot better, but I still felt pretty lost.

Lizzie just sighed, clearly aggravated with everyone. "I'm gonna go get ready too," she said, pushing out of her leaning position against the counter.

Edwin shook his head. "Women," he said.

"You have no idea."