Disclaimer: I don't own Life with Derek.

A/N: So here's another chapter. Thank you all so much for reviewing. If I got more reviews, I might review at 100 hits. Hehe. There's a nice little gimmick for you. Anyways, enjoy.

Chapter 12... "Bye Casey."

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

No, the world did not actually explode. More like shifted around completely on its axis. Because almost as soon as Derek's lips met mine, they left. My lips tingled from the lingering essence of the pressure as I felt his arms leave my body. I opened my closed eyes to see him backing slowly out of the room, jaw practically dragging on the floor underneath him until he whipped around and walked briskly out of the room.

Oh my god.

I watched his retreating figure through the partially curtained floor to ceiling windows of my room, until two new figures passed by Derek, confused looks gracing their faces. My mom and George appeared in my doorway soon after, pausing to look at me for a second. Must've looked horrible, because their eyes began to widen, mouths opening to ask questions I'm sure they wanted answers to, but I was saved (again, not exactly) by a tall Black man in his 40s wearing a white doctor's coat, side-stepping my parents into the room, a clipboard in one hand.

"Ah, good. You're up," he said, a small smile showing.

Against my will. Right then I wanted to return to my task of removing this thing that was keeping me awake and alive and full. But two months in a psych-ward would be even more hideous than the current situation.

I watched the smile fade off of his face as we connected eyes. And his eyebrows furrowed.

"You look upset," he said. Yeah, I sure as hell am upset. Who the hell do you think you are keeping me alive? You don't know what this is doing to me. "Anything I can do?" Well, for starters you could get this thing out of my arm. Then, well, I'm not sure if doctor-assisted suicide is legal in Canada or not.

I prayed that I was conveying all of this in our strange gaze, but it seemed I wasn't, as he broke our correlation to glance at my mom and George, who were currently looking back and forth from the doctor to me.

Not exactly thinking at the time, I said, "Yeah, this IV. It's very uncomfortable."

And then he sighed, as if expecting this kind of question from me, or rather, someone like me. "It always is at first. And in light of the current situation, removing it is not exactly an option," he said carefully, a doctor's demeanor returning in his voice.

"Oh," I said. I felt my sobs come rushing up to respond to this disheartening news. But I swallowed them down and muttered, "Right."

And suddenly I hated him. With a passion. I hated him so much, I wanted to take that spork and use it to gouge his ugly brown eyes slowly out of his head. The thought brought a gruesome mental image to my mind that I tried to shake.

I grudgingly leaned back into the bed with a heavy sigh, eyes staring out into space. Then I heard the doctor cough. Hem, hem. You know that cough, the one people use to break uncomfortable silences.

"The bleeding has slowed down considerably, and –"

Bleeding? What bleeding? "What?" I said, my eyes almost ejecting themselves from my head to look over at the doctor, focusing on him as if the answer to my question would mean all the difference. Which it kind of did.

He turned his attentions from my parents and onto me, fixing me with a somewhat sympathetic stare. "There was slight bleeding along the walls of your esophagus. Nothing to worry about now though, because as I said," he turned back to mom and George, "The bleeding has gone down considerably. You should be able to leave within the next 4 days."

"But," I began, turning to my mom and remembering our conversation in the car, "I thought we couldn't afford –"

"Casey, don't worry about that," she said, willing me not to continue with my question. I could tell she was embarrassed about it. About not being able to afford all of this. Which only made me hate that IV in my arm and everything else around me even more.

"Yeah Case, we'll take care of it," George said, attempting a smile that curved into more of a grimace. His voice had cracked.

And then I noticed how puffy my mom's eyes were. And it all became too much. My head began to pound. I needed to get out. And soon.

And then I remembered something. "What time is it?" I asked, looking around the white room for a clock.

"It's…" the doctor said, looking down at his watch, "9:30."

Well, I missed the beginning of Amy's party, but I'd take whatever I could get.

"Okay," I said, trying to smile, but it hurt too much.

Everyone in the room was casting glances at me, then at each other as another awkward silence ensued.

"I'm tired. I'm gonna go to sleep now," I said, hoping this would cause them to leave.

But not before my mom made her way across the room to stand at the left side of my bed. "Alright. I love you Casey," she said, her voice quivering at the word 'love'. As if asking me why I was doing this to myself. I knew the answer would only intensify the hurt in her eyes even more.

"We all love you, Case," George added, coming up behind my mom, his hands in his pockets, a worried look on his face.

I closed my eyes tightly to stop the tears. Then I realized this might be the last time I see them. "I love you too," I said, eyes still closed, now to avoid their teary gazes filled with questions I wasn't ready to answer.

Nothing else was left to be said. And I opened my eyes to see the doctor had left and George was leading my mom out. She paused a second at the doorway to look at me one more time.

"Bye Casey."