Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2278365.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Original_Work
  Additional Tags:
      Sex, HIGHLY_Suggestive_Themes, Rape_/_NonCon, Kidnapping, Extortion,
      Boredom, Life_Thoughts, Personal_Space, Confinement, Threatening,
      compassion_-_Freeform, Alternate_Universe, Fluff, smutty_fluff
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-09-09 Updated: 2014-11-04 Chapters: 11/? Words: 22147
****** D/C ******
by Crystalliced
Summary
     N/A
***** Confinement *****
Chapter Summary
     Prologue.
 
 I stare out the window, a placid expression on my face.  A simple square room
is my prison, a bed on the far side and the door directly behind me.  Being
trapped here is no fun, but I can't expect anything better.  I've been
kidnapped, after all, by some psychotic asshole who took me off the street
while I was in my home, leaving behind my family.
      So, being caged in his house and more or less left alone?  Not so
terrible, considering the other possibilities.  As far as being held hostage
goes, this isn't so bad.  No, hostage isn't the right word for me.  He wants to
keep me here, as company.  The old bastard's lonely.  I just happened to be the
easiest target.
     I've figured out a bit about my tormentor, though.  Age 52, Christian
Yamamoto.  Questionable level of sanity.  Divorced with no children.  Rich.
 Probably delusional.  Black hair, black eyes.  A bit arrogant but surprisingly
patient.
     "Brandon?  You in there?"  His annoyingly loud voice is muffled through
the door.  I ignore it, knowing it won't help, but wanting to rebel against him
in some way, even if it is pathetically childish.  "I have a present for you!"
 Oh god.  I quickly look around the room for weapons.  The window?  If I punch
it hard enough and pick up a glass sliver...
     Stop fantasizing.  I already know that I can't kill someone in cold blood,
even if that person is a kidnapping arse.  The best weapon I have right now are
my fists.
     Basically, I'm fucked.
     The door swings open and he walks in, a sickly grin on his face.  I
instinctively take a step back.  "Today, you're turning eighteen!"  The old man
says in a sing-songy voice that makes me want to punch his teeth out.  "But
alas, I forgot the birthday cake."  The asshole's lucky.  I would've sent the
place burning to the ground with the candles.  "So I bought you something else,
instead!"
       "As we both know, your eighteenth birthday is a very special one."  What
is he getting at?  "That's right, today's the day you're allowed to legally
have sex!"  I take another step back, deciding that the window plan has its
merits.  He notices.  "Don't worry, I won't be the one you have to touch."
 Wait, what?  
     He walks outside.  There's the sound of shuffling feet before his head
appears, dragging in a gagged girl about my age, ropes tying her ankles
together.  She's dressed in...what the hell?
      She looks like a slut.  Her shirt is extremely low cut and the skirt
doesn't even look three inches long.  But one look at the girl's tearstreaked
face tells me a different story.  "Where did you...?"  I ask, horror barely
concealed on my face.  He grins widely.  "Picked her off the street.  I figured
you would like her.  I think she's even a virgin."  The brunette on the ground
cries quietly into her hands.  "So, I'll be back in about three hours.  You
know the rules."  He turns around to leave.  "Enjoy!"  He shuts the door.  A
minute later, I hear the car in the garage drive off, tires screeching on the
road.
      Satisfied that he is gone, I turn to my prisoner.  She's pressing her
back against the corner of the room, staring at me while sniffling quietly.  I
stare at her critically as she cringes at my gaze.  She's pretty.  The most
intense blue eyes flicker back and forth across the room as she searches for
some sort of reprieve.  There will be none.  Short chocolate brown hair frames
her face in an interesting style, one that I've never seen before.  She's also
rather short, coming up to about my chin.  I'm only about 5'9 myself...
      I take a deep breath.  It's obvious what Christian wants me to do to her.
 The pointed talk about sex and the way she's dressed...
      I walk over to her as her eyes widen.  All I do, though, is slip a
pocketknife from my jacket and cut the bonds off of her.  I remain alert in
case she tries to escape, but she's apparently too intimidated by the knife to
make a run for it.
     "What's your name?"  I ask, keeping a blank expression on to hide my
intentions.  She takes a breath and shakily whispers, "Lindsey."  I nod in
approval.  "Alright, Lindsey.  Tell me, what do you think is about to happen to
you?"  The brunette cringes in fear but doesn't talk.  "I expect an answer."  I
say flatly.
      "You're going t-to hurt me."  Lindsey whispers back, eyes straying
between my face and the knife I still hold in one hand.  I smile slightly.  She
notices and presses herself further into the wall.  "Are you wearing underwear
under that thing?"  She looks at me, red flaring across her cheeks, before
stuttering out an affirmative.  "What about a bra?"  Finally, the reality of
her situation dawns upon her and she begins to cry again.
     Within a second, the hilt of my pocketknife presses against her throat
hard, millimeters away from cutting off her oxygen supply.  She gasps in
surprise.  "Answer the question."  I say, a deadly edge in my voice.  "Y-Yes."
 She manages to blurt out before I remove the weapon from her throat as she
falls to the ground, gasping.
      "Take off your shirt and skirt."  I say neutrally.  "Hurry up."  Tears
drip down the girl's face as she complies hesitantly, wrapping her arms around
herself and curling up into a ball.  "Please...don't..."  Lindsey whispers, and
I shake my head.  "You don't have a choice in what I do."  I snap.  A pained
look crosses the girl's face as she closes her eyes, dreading the moments to
follow.
     I've been waiting for this...
 
 
***** Lindsey's Angst *****
Chapter Summary
     Multifaceted, like a diamond, and just as cold.
     Lindsey's POV.
Something warm brushes my face.  I cringe away from it, not wanting to justify
the fact that this is real.  This...
    “Lindsey.”  The presence rubs against me again, but paying attention, I
realize that it is cloth, rather than flesh.  I open my eyes to stare at the
boy who was seconds ago ready to do unspeakable things to me but is now
offering me his jacket.  No, it’s more of a sweater...that opens in the front.
 A sweaterjacket?  
     “Put it on.”  He says, exasperated, and I don’t hesitate before pulling it
over my shoulders and zipping it to my neck, hiding my body as much as
possible.  It extends to about mid-thigh, which is far too much skin for my
liking but a good deal more than the miniskirt covered up, and I am grateful
for it, regardless.  “W-Why are you...?”   Why are you being so nice to me now?
 Why did you give me your sweaterjacket?  Why aren’t you pinning me to the wall
right now?  Why are you...?
      “I was under the impression that you didn’t want me to touch you.  Was I
incorrect in that assumption?”  I shudder and shake my head no.  “Well, then
you’re hardly able to question my motives for leaving you alone.”  Fire burns
in my soul.  “I just want to know what stops you.”  He gives me a condescending
look.  “Nothing is stopping me.  I just choose not to.”  
       “But why?”  I ask, tired of his sort-of half answers.  “Why did you
choose that option?”  He stares contemplatively at the wall opposite me.  If I
wanted I could get up and try to knock him out and escape...He’s the only one
blocking me and freedom.  But...
      “If you were in my place and I were in yours, would you have raped me?”
 He turns around wearing a thin half smile.  It’s the most emotion he’s shown
since I was forced into this awful room.  
      “Absolutely not!”  How dare he even insinuate something so horrific!
 “That’s disgusting.”  I say fiercely, hoping the words incite some sort of
reaction in him.
      “Has it occured to you that maybe I’m not some sort of disgusting
monster?  That I have a healthy respect for other people?  That I’m a normal
person trapped in hell?”  He glares at me with something like rage.  “You think
I choose to be here?  Please.  When I was taken to this cage, I was sixteen.
 It came to me as a surprise that I am now eighteen.  He never told me the time
and I never bothered to keep track of the days, because I didn’t think I’d be
here this long.  You have been in his custody for less than a day, and you
already think that you know eve-”
      “Sorry...”  I whisper.  This anger is uncharacteristic of me.  He stares
at me openly, looking confused.  “I should be thankful because you’re
protecting me and all I’m doing is making you mad.  Sorry...”  At the end of my
little speech, he winces but doesn’t reply.  It's just my emotions jumbling
from the still-recent shock of everything that's happened today.  
       “Thank you for choosing to be a good person.”  I whisper.  He vacantly
studies the wall next to me.  
       I pick at the edge of his sweaterjacket for a few seconds, searching for
something to fill the void of awkward silence.
       “Why don’t you run away?”  I finally work up the nerve to ask, glancing
at his face.  He’s actually kind of...cute.  In an odd sort of way.  Untamed
black hair, surprisingly compassionate brown eyes, brown mole on the right side
of his face.  He sighs and pulls up his left pant leg.
       “A tracker?”  I ask, and he nods.
       “This is just symbolic.  He implanted a real tracker into my chest,
along with an explosive.  In the event that I try to escape, he’ll literally
vaporize my heart.”  Unbidden, tears slide down my face again, this time out of
a mixture of pity and grief.  “That’s...”
      “Horrific?  Awful?  I know.  But the real scary thing is that I’ve gotten
used to it.  I’ve stopped trying to run.  I’ve given up, already.”  I can no
longer resist the urge to hold him and I stop trying - I step forward and take
two steps before throwing my arms around him.
     He yelps and pushes me off of him, not hard enough to scare but forceful
enough to spook.  
     "Geez, I'm sorry."  He says, as I focus intently on the floor, feeling a
twisted sort of sadness well up in me.  "It's not you, just...in all this time
the only physical human contact I've had was from him, and never so much at
once.  Just took me by surprise, that's all."  I don't give any indication of
having heard him, too mortified to meet his gaze.  
     "Fine, have it your way."  He steps towards me as I look up, shocked, and
hugs me gently, tentatively holding me.
     Of all the hugs I have ever received, this one is by far the nicest.  He
feels so startling warm...The heat trickles into my cheeks as I rest my head on
his shoulder.  "H-Hey..."  He says weakly.  “What’s your name?”  I ask.
 “I...ah...Brandon.”  He finally replies at last, looking a bit flustered.
 “Thank you, Brandon.”  We’re both hyperaware of what I’m talking about.  
      Eventually, he lets go.  There’s a certain awkward silence in the air as
he steps back from me, pink just barely visible on his cheeks, although I know
that my face is still burning hot.  Trying to think of something to say, I
finally blurt out, “What do you do?”  He glances at me.  “If you’ve been here
for so long, what do you do?”  
    “I think.”  He says plainly.
    “About what?”
   “Everything.”  
    “You can’t think about everything.  Even if you spent the rest of your life
here, you can’t possibly cover everything.  People are out there dedicating
their whole lives to knowing just one animal or one stupid strain of disease -
how can you say you think about everything?”  I retort hotly, feeling
unexpectedly argumentative.
     “That’s a given, of course.”  He smirks.  “It doesn’t stop me from
trying.”  
     “But doesn’t that get boring after a while?”  I try to imagine sitting in
this room for hundreds of hours with no one to talk to except myself.  I’d go
insane.
     “You just said that I can never know everything, right?  I don’t have the
time in my lifespan to cover every topic there is.  I’ll never run out of
things to wonder about.”  
     “Okay.  Tell me about something that you have created a conclusive answer
to.”
    “What?”  
     “I mean, like, philosophy.  Surely in the time you’ve been here you’ve
taken at least one philosophical standpoint.”  I’m genuinely curious.  How does
this man think?  
     “I can’t be definite.”
    “What?  Why not?”
    “As you learn new things, your viewpoint changes.  That’s what it’s like
for me.  I will always have to go back and revise my answer.”
    “Fine, tell me a current standpoint you have.”  He’s getting to me.  I just
want a straight answer, but he persists in taking all of these loops and
detours.
     “No one is really evil, or truly good.  A lot of people like to classify
others as light or dark, but that is false.  There is no definite end.  There
is only a gray area where people are constantly shifting.”  
     “So...”  I think about this one.  “If someone murdered your family for no
reason, then that would be okay?”
    “Irrelevant.”
    “How so?”  Oh my god just answer the freaking question!
     “Because all of my family is dead.”
     I suddenly wish he hadn’t been so blunt about it.  His voice is the worst
thing, though.  He says it without emotion, like he’s had so long to get over
it that it means nothing to him now.
      “He killed them.”  I can feel him close himself off just a bit.
 “Brandon...”  I whisper, nearly speechless.  Why has this absolutely awful man
been so terrible to him?
      “I can’t complain.  He treats me pretty well.  I mean, besides being
practically locked up in this room, but at least he doesn’t beat me or
anything.”  Brandon says tiredly.  “If I’m honest, what he intended to do to
you was far worse.”  
      “And what was that?”
     “He kidnapped you with the intention of you being my slave.”  He says
flatly.  “And by the way you were dressed I’m sure you can figure out what he
meant by that.”  I shiver suddenly, realizing just what he means and being
utterly revolted by that fact.
      “Do you...”  He leans back against the wall as I try to phrase my
question properly.  “What shade of gray are you?”  I fidget with the edge of my
sweaterjacket again, feeling oddly comforted by it.
      “Dark, dark gray.”  Brandon says at last.  “Not quite black, but close.”
 I feel a frown pass my lips.  “You can’t possibly mean that.”  
      “I’m a bad person that sometimes does good things.”  He says blankly.
 “It’s been known to happen once in a while.”  Finally snapping at his self-
deprecation, I take two steps forward and punch him in the stomach.   I don’t
hit with too much force, but I definitely make sure it hurts.
       “What the-” Brandon’s knees hit the ground, but he manages to stay
upright, “What the hell was that for?”  I don’t turn to run.  I stare at him,
blue eyes drilling into his own.
       “If you were a bad person like you claim to be, you would not be on the
floor right now.”  I state triumphantly.  “You’d be standing up to hit me
harder.”
      “And what makes you think I’m not just waiting to get my air back before
I kill you?”  He growls.  He looks satisfied when I flinch.  
       I hold out my hand to him.  He stares at it confusedly for a second
before accepting it as I pull him up.  As soon as he’s on his own two feet, I
quietly walk over to the plain bed in the corner of the room and sit on it.
 “What are you-”
      “If you’re going to hit me back, I at least want to fall unconscious on
something soft.”  I say quietly.  
       An unexpected, blinding flash of pain across my cheek.  
       I stare at him uncomprehendingly, realizing that he was the one who hit
me.  “I know you think you’ve begun to figure me out.”  Brandon says quietly.
 “You don’t know me.  Don’t be so silly as to think you do.”  I struggle
fiercely to hold the tears back as the pain makes itself known, blossoming like
a horribly beautiful flower, spreading throughout my body.  
       He walks to the other side of the room and sits down, back pressed
against the wall.  
       I cry in silence.
***** Caged *****
 
     My hardened exterior does not betray the emotional turmoil I feel.  It
just took a second.  
     It was too long.  
     I can’t believe I hit her.  
     “I’m sorry.”  I finally say, after what feels like years of awkward
silence.  She doesn’t look up from where she’s sitting.  A shock runs through
my system as I realize she’s crying.
     My eyes follow the crystalline tear as it falls from where her face is
staring at the ground to splash with an imperceptible sound on the ground.  
That was me , I think.   I did that.  I’m the reason she’s crying right now.
     Nothing I can say can lighten this situation.  Nothing I can do will fix
it.  It’s up to her to forgive me or not, and I don’t think she will.
 Seriously, what the hell was I thinking?  
     You can have as many regrets in life as you want.  But none of them will
make things right.  You can wish something to be the way you want it to be, but
without working for it, it’ll never happen.  What’s that saying?  You don’t
know what you can do until you try?  Am I supposed to try to bridge the gap
that I’ve created between us?  I was solely in the wrong here.  She didn’t mean
that punch to hurt.  She just wanted to show me that I was a good person, deep
inside.
     I laugh bitterly to myself.  Yeah.  What a great job I’ve done of that,
huh?  Unlike her, my hit was intended to cause pain.  I hit her hoping to make
her cry, to show her how pissed off I was.  People like that...they grow up to
be monsters.  The very thing I don’t want to be.  Hell, it hasn’t even been
half an hour since she was first dragged in and I’m already causing irreparable
damage to the tentative friendship that we created.
      A tear slides down my cheek.
      You destroy everything you touch.   
     I don’t even realize I’m gasping for breath until I feel her arms slide
around me, holding me tightly to her as she whispers soothingly into my ear.
 That’s when I realize that I’m having some sort of panic attack.  
     It’s also when I realize that Lindsey, kind, blindingly naïve girl that
she is, is willing to forgive me.
     “I’m so sorry, Lindsey.”  I can’t bear to look at her.  I don’t deserve
to.
     “It’s okay.”  The girl whispers to me, hugging me.  “It’s not.”  I say
plaintively, and there’s nothing more to add after that.  I can feel her damp
face against my shoulder, slowly soaking through the material.  It’s a
bittersweet feeling.  She’s crying again, but not because of the pain of my
physical hit.
      This time she’s hurting because she knows I am.
      Lindsey, just who are you?
 
      I pick up the blanket off the bed and hand it to her.  She gives me a
confused look before I mimic wrapping the cloth around myself, and she gets the
idea.  
      Now Lindsey has a makeshift robe that extends to her ankles, covering
herself up.  She gives me a grateful look (and my jacket back) and I smile back
thinly, the guilt of hitting her still fresh on my mind.  Any reservations she
had, though, are apparently removed when she decides that there’s no longer a
threat of me hitting her and she’s back to her comfortably chatty self.  
      “Seriously, don’t feel bad.  I had it coming.”  Lindsey, just drop it...I
don’t reply externally, but internally I’m bottling up my emotions again.  I
don't want her to think it's her fault.  It isn't.
      “Did it hurt?”  I ask quietly, and she nods.  “Lots.”  The brunette
replies cheerfully.  I blink.  “I kind of deserved it-”  I slap my hand to her
mouth, carefully not to hit her too hard.  Her eyes widen but she doesn’t
flinch.  “Nothing you did justified me hitting you.  Don’t talk about it like
it was right, because it wasn’t.  Don’t accept that.”  She nods and I let my
hand go.
      “But I...”  I give her a warning glare and she swallows heavily.  “Don’t
ever think you deserve to be hit.  That’s full of crap.”  I refrain from
swearing as much as I want to around her.  Something about her makes her seem
too fragile for the heavy emotion that comes with cursing.
      “I know you said that you couldn’t escape, but what about me?  He didn’t
do surgery or anything on me, I don’t think, so what does he have in terms of
security?”
     “He expects me to be screwing you into the mattress right now.”  I say
flatly.  “I think he also expects me to hold you here myself.”  She flinches at
my choice of language.
      An intriguing idea slips unbidden into my mind.  If she escapes, he’ll be
pissed at me.  Since she knows I’m trapped here, she’ll spread the word.
 Therefore, Lindsey can’t be allowed to escape.
      Would he kill her to keep the secret?
      Absolutely. Even if she gets away, he’ll hunt her down.  Then...
     “No!”  I say suddenly, startling the girl.  “You can’t escape.”  I hastily
tell her the thought that has blossomed in my mind.  She looks panicky,
rightfully so.
     “I’ll protect you.”  I say, not sure how I can.  “I won’t let him.”  I
have no leverage over Christian.  After all, his phone controls the device that
can end my life in a second.
     But I’m tired.  Of living.  Of being trapped in this terrible world.  It
would be a wonderful freedom to die and move on.  And Lindsey is offering me
the chance to sacrifice myself for a good reason.  If I can hold him off...or
kill him...
     “No.”  She stares at me.  “We’re going to get you out.”  
 
     We're still formulating a plan when we hear the sound of a car pulling in
to the driveway.  She gives me a panicked look, afraid that she'll be killed
now that he's back, but I gently pick her hand up and squeeze in what I hope is
a reassuring manner.
      "You'll be fine."  I whisper to her, as we listen to the front door
opening.  "I promise."  She nods, hugging me once before letting go of me and
sitting complacently on the bed.  With a bit of a twisted smile, I remember
what she told me.
        “If you’re going to hit me back, I at least want to fall unconscious on
something soft.”   I don't think she had anticipated me hitting her back
then...  Though the worried look on her face means she is freely entertaining
the possibility of death.  I pinch her arm.
      "You'll be fine."  We're not going to break her out just yet.  "Just sit
there and look innocent."  The girl bobs her head to show me she understands
and I smile.  
     "Brandon?  You done in there?"  The door is unlocked and pulled open.  I
stare into the eyes of my torturer.
      "Actually, sir, I want to speak to you about something privately." I say
smoothly.  I've never really been openly hostile to the man, so I can get away
with this facade of respect.  "Alright."  He points at the girl behind me.
 "Wait there."  She dutifully nods and I walk outside the room, shutting the
door after he passes through.
      "How was she?"  Christian asks.  "She doesn't look too shaken up."  I
wince, remembering the slap mark still faintly visible on her cheek.
     "I didn't take her."  His eyes widen.  "I find it much more entertaining
to control her and manipulate her.  With that in mind, I want to keep her.
 I'll share my food with her, so you don't need to pay extra or anything."
 Talking about Lindsey as a...pet...revolts me, but I know that it is the
easiest way to deflect his suspicion.  "If you could allow me to have her I
would be very grateful."  He thinks about it for a second.
     "I assume you want different clothes for her.  Since you basically don't
use your allowance, I'll let you share it with her so that you can buy her
things.  If you want to buy the girl her own food, then that can come out of
your allowance too.  If you want extra money, manual labor."  I nod.  How
ironic.  A pet taking care of a pet.  "Thank you for your kindness."  Without
further discussion, I head back into the room and he lumbers down the aisle.
     An almost friendly conversation.  If I hadn't been restraining myself from
strangling the older man, you could mistake us to be father and son.
     "Brandon?"  Lindsey says, the name tumbling out of her mouth.  I nod.
 "What did you guys talk about?"  
     "Keeping you as a pet."  She flinches, a choked sound coming out of her
mouth.  "Make no mistake, that's not how I think about you.  But it made it
easier for him to accept you, so that is how he will view you.  With that in
mind, your behavior needs to change around him."  I stare into her
infuriatingly mesmerizing blue irises and take a step closer, refusing to break
eye contact.  I'm standing over now, giving me an odd sense of power.  My face
hardens.
      "Meek, complacent, and hopelessly in love."  Lindsey blanches as I drop
to her level.  "W-What?"  She finally squeaks out.  "That's how you are
expected to behave towards me around him.  Do not fail."  
     "B-But..."
     "If I touch you, you can not flinch or protest.  If I tell you to kiss me,
you must not hesitate.  And if I put my hand out to you, you are expected to
hold it.  Understood?"  Lindsey gives me a wide-eyed look.  "If you do not play
your part convincingly, he may very well decide to kill you."  
     "Brandon..."
     "I'm serious."  She hesitates in answering.  "O-Okay..."
      I lean closer to hug her.  "Alone, though, I order you to be yourself.
 Okay?"  In response she hugs me back and I smile.  "That's my girl."
***** Realizations *****
Chapter Summary
     Tyler discovers the issue with sleeping with a pretty girl.
     Chapter Rating: M
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
    “Lindsey...”
    “Shh...”
    Our left-hand fingers are intertwined, her right hand traces nonsensical
patterns on my arm.  It feels nice. Captivating.  Lindsey apparently agrees,
her warm cheek coming to rest on my shoulder, her side pressing gently against
mine.  In any other situation, I would move or complain.  I'm not good with
this touchy-feely stuff and now I'm being completely overwhelmed.  Her scent, a
wonderful sweet smell that I can't identify, surrounds me and sends my heart
pounding.  I want to escape.  I can barely think.   But is that so important?
 Just feel.   I think to myself.  No.  I need to stop letting my emotions get
the best of me.  
      I can't stop.  I absorb the sensations Lindsey offers me, concentrating
on the warmth of her hand in mine, her hip pressed to my own, her soft fingers
lightly pressing onto my skin.
     Lindsey...what are you doing to me?  I stare dreamily outside the window,
the sunset coming through the glass to bathe the room in a soft orange glow.  I
glance at the brunette, surprised to see her staring at me.  "Lindsey?"  She
pokes my nose.  "Just relax..  I lean my head back and close my eyes, not
really thinking for once.  It's a welcome change.
 
     I wake up in the middle of the night, feeling the soft sheet covering me.
 I turn over to stare at Lindsey, who has fallen asleep against the wall, my
sweaterjacket wrapped around her body protectively.  That can't be comfortable.
 I roll off the bed and land quietly on my feet.  It is a neat trick I used to
practice out of boredom.  Eventually it became instinctual.  
     I walk over to the sleeping girl, kneel, and slide one arm under her legs
and another one behind her back, and lift her up, cradling her gently.  She
doesn't wake up.  Carefully, I move back towards the bed and place her down,
moving the pillow under her head.  
     "Thank you."  I whisper.  Maybe it's just a trick of the light but I think
I see the ends of her lips quirk up imperceptibly.  I turn away with the intent
of claiming her spot on the floor when something snags my hand.
     With a tug, Lindsey pulls me onto the bed with her.  It's not really meant
for two people, though, so our bodies are mere centimeters from touching.
 "Thank you."  Lindsey murmurs back sleepily, a smile gracing her features.
 "Go to sleep."  She closes her eyes and doesn't open them again.
     I stare at the brunette, an ache making itself known in my chest.
 Lindsey...
 
      It's the best sleep I have had in over a year.
     I am acutely aware of Lindsey's body draped over me, hugging me tightly.
 Her hair tickles my throat.  Her arms carelessly hang over my chest.   The
most annoying thing is the fact that the curve of her butt is pressed against
my groin.  I awkwardly shift away as blood flow is redirected down to my
crotch, managing to extricate myself as she rolls over, yawning as she rubs her
eyes.  "M'hi."  She mumbles under her breath, face buried in the pillow.  "Good
morning."  I reply, before dashing to the bathroom.
      I need a cold shower.
 
     "Hey, Brandon."  Lindsey glances at me as I walk past her, my destination
being the bed.  "This is wrong."  I say in response, staring down at the sheet.
 "Huh?"  I pick up the white pillows and the blanket and gently place it on the
floor, staring at the wrinkled sheet.  "This."  I say, gesturing at the mess.
 "It's covered up by the blanket..."  She tries to say.  I give her a stern
look.  "You can not justify this.  Do not bother trying."  She rolls her eyes
as I turn my attention back to the messy bedspread, pulling on a corner near
me.  "And good morning to you too."  I hear her mutter under her breath.  I
smile and keep working.
     Five minutes later and Lindsey's still watching me, though now she sports
a look that wavers between bewildered and annoyed as I work on a particularly
stubborn lump in the sheet.  "There we go!"  I finally exclaim, beaming at the
perfectly smooth linen.
      Very intentionally, she steps forward and ruffles up the corner nearest
her, kicking it for good measure.  "Ehehehe."  She giggles at her handiwork as
I silently fume for a moment before picking up one of the pillows at my feet.
 Lindsey gives me a curious look as I weigh it in my hands for a moment before
whipping it directly at her head, eliciting a shriek from the girl.  She cowers
in the corner as I march towards her with a stormy glare - both reactions fake,
as I'm not really mad and she's not really scared.  I snatch the blanket off
the bed with one pull and quickly wrap one end around her arm, tying it
tightly.  She struggles to pull it off but stops when I yank her towards me,
the other end securely in my hand.  "If you keep trying, I'll tie you to the
bedpost."  The brunette stops struggling.  "Good girl."  I say lightly, before
tying the other end of the linen around my arm.  "Now we're going to fix the
bed all over again, because someone went out of their way to mess it up.  I
step forward, my arm moving with me, and Lindsey almost loses her balance as my
strength exceeds her own.  My second step causes her to stumble but she gets
the idea and shakily follows me as I stride towards the bed.
     Ripping the blanket off the bed caused me to lose what progress I had
made, so I have to start from scratch again.  I don't intend on doing any work,
though.  "Okay, Lindsey.  Get to work."  I pat the corner and she glares at me
heatedly while pointedly tugging on her left arm, the one attached to my right.
 "I didn't mess up your bed."  I say succinctly, and she sighs in resignation
before pulling on the corner of the sheet.
     Three minutes pass and she's still at it, halfheartedly pushing at a fold
in the sheet and making no progress.  I can tell that the tied arm is
frustrating her as she continually jerks it around in hopes of slipping off the
knot to no avail.  Her incompetency bothers me.
     "Oh, give me that."  I finally burst, stepping in and yanking the corner
hard to straighten it.  She stares at me, equally awed and annoyed.   "Next
one."  This time, Lindsey matches me step for step chasing me down to the
second side.
    This one takes a bit more work, requiring all of seven pulls to straighten
it, though it slightly wrinkles the previous corner.  I walk back to it and pat
the linen, flattening it.  We make our way to the third side, where I move
around the edges for a solid fifteen seconds before noticing how uneven the
sides of the sheet are.
     "Press this."  I point at the area and she holds it down while I pull the
corner hard, fixing both the sides and corner.  "Last one."
    Fixing every single wrinkle takes me about three minutes, and I often mess
up a previously straightened part.  I almost forget that Lindsey is tied to me
as I move back and forth.  She's gotten so adept at following me that she is
practically invisible.  "Thank you for your help."  I say with a bit of a
smirk, and the brunette frowns.  "I didn't actually do anything.  You just
dragged me around.  I-"  The girl freezes as I tenderly brush a lock of her
hair out of her eyes.  "I-I-I..."
    "Shhh..."  I say, a blush blossoming on the brunette's cheeks.  My fingers
find the spot on her face where I hit her yesterday.  "Does it still hurt?"  I
ask contritely, gently probing the skin.  "It's fine now."
     "I'm still sorry."  I mean it.  Her skin is still bruised, a purplish
splotch where my hand connected with her face.  "Don't be."  I cup her cheek,
marveling at the way it heats up under my caress.  Lindsey's lips part ever so
slightly.
      I want to kiss her.
      The revelation is startling.  But even more so:
      She wants me to kiss her.
      A million reasons why I shouldn't flow through my mind.  Has she ever
been kissed?  I do not deserve to be her first!  We haven't even known each
other for a day.  But the desire to...It would be so easy, to lean forward just
an inch, to pull her just a little bit closer, to capture my lips with her own.
 I'm getting soft.  I recall the fury I felt as I hit Lindsey and bring it back
to life in my mind, restraining it and focusing it onto a goal.  It is a trick
I have used to calm down and it works.  This time, anyways.
     I ignore the look of disappointment she gives me as I drop my hand and
step back, muttering an apology under my breath before walking away.  A thought
chills me to the bone.
      ...How many more times can I be put in that situation before I lose
control?
 
     "You can cook?"  Lindsey asks me skeptically, watching me snag a pan from
a cabinet in the kitchen.  She's reclaimed my "sweaterjacket", as she calls it,
burrowing deeply into it with a satisfied smile."
     "Of course I can.  But just for that, I'm going to burn your eggs."  I
say, affronted.  She shrugs and goes back to snuggling in my clothing in moody
silence.  I shake my head and go back to searching for the bacon that I
absolutely know is hidden somewhere in the pantry...
     “...This smells like you.”  And then there’s Lindsey.  I turn to give her
a look somehow balancing indifference and shock at the same time.  “What?”  
     “It smells like you.”  She buries her face into the sleeve of my
sweaterjacket and I roll my eyes.  But now I'm actually curious.  "What does
that entail?"  She takes a deep breath.  "There's no way to explain it.  It
just does."
     "Is that a good or a bad thing?"  Lindsey gives me an unreadable look.
 "Definitely good."  She says, clutching the sweaterjacket around her body
tightly again.  I don't really know how to take that, so I just shake my head
and go back to hunting for the bacon.
     When I duck down to see if there are potatoes, I notice her presence.
 "Lindsey, why are you standing behind me?"  I don't bother looking backwards,
stretching my arm to grab the potato bag in the back of the cabinet when
suddenly I feel her face next to my arm.  "Are you seriously-"
     "I like your smell."  She states matter-of-factly, and I'm sorely tempted
to use my newly earned sack of potatoes to knock her unconscious when she walks
back to the dining table and cuddles with my sweaterjacket again.  "But your
clothes are less likely to get mad at me and are better conversationalists.
 Isn't that right?"  She waves one of her sleeves around.  "You're weird."  I
finally say, exasperated.  
     "And they're more polite-"
     "And can't cook your breakfast."  Lindsey huffs and sits down, muttering
things under her breath that are probably not very nice.  She stops when I pull
out a kitchen knife that is nearly the size of her head, if not bigger.  A
cutting board is slid onto the table and I quickly decapitate the bacon
package.  "What was that?"  I ask.  "I couldn't quite hear you."
     She glares and I laugh.
 
     "This is...actually kind of okay."  Lindsey admits, effectively turning
her fork into a shovel.  I laugh, knowing full well that a half-compliment from
her is really the highest praise anyone could possibly hope to achieve.  “Why
thank you.  You’re looking half-okay too.”  
     Woah.   Woah.   Since when have I been flirty?   Because that was
definitely a...
     “Thanks, I think.”  She tosses back at me, flicking a piece of bacon at my
head.  I catch it out of the air and pop it into my mouth.  “Hehe, thanks.”  I
say, leaning back in my chair.  I didn’t bother cooking anything for myself,
but it would’ve been awkward if I had let her eat alone, so I decided to sit
down next to her.  
     I need to save money if I want to buy her clothes, and the less food I
buy, the better.  I know she really wants something to cover her thighs, as she
is continuously tugging down the bottom of the sweaterjacket.  Of course, all
that movement constantly draws my attention to her legs.
     “You know, if you keep pulling on that you’re going to ruin it.”  Lindsey
looks up as her hand draws closer to the hem of the cloth.  “It’s my decency
for your clothing.  I pick the former.”  I roll my eyes as she totally
disregards me and continues dragging it down.  “That’s my favorite
sweaterjacket.”  She glances at me.  “It’s your only sweaterjacket.”
     “How do you know that?”  I ask, a bit irritated.  “I went through your
stuff while you were in the bathroom.”  I half-expected it, but still...the
nerve!  “I wanted to ask you if I could borrow your jeans, because they’re
actually pretty feminine.”
     “Jeans are asexual.”  I say flatly.  
      “Not like someone I know.”  She says teasingly.
       If I had made the mistake of eating at that moment in time, I would’ve
choked to death.  I...
       “It’s not a big deal.”  She says, shrugging.  “It’s been a year or
longer since you’ve even seen a girl.  If I hadn’t felt you against me in the
morning I would have wondered if you were gay.”  
       I KNEW I should have stabbed her with the knife.  A Lindsey omelette?
 My lips quirk up into a smile at the thought.  My smile must intimidate her
somewhat because she stares at me with widened eyes.  “That isn’t an invitation
to get any stupid ideas.”  She says flatly, giving me a look that suggests that
she’ll dive for the knife if I move even a millimeter closer.  
       Suddenly all the puzzle pieces click into place.
       “Christian wants me to get you pregnant.”
Chapter End Notes
     Tyler, Lindsey, Christian - Crystalliced
***** Quirks *****
Chapter Notes
     Rating bumped to Explicit.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
  “Christian wants me to get you pregnant.”
    “It makes perfect sense.  He kidnapped me because he couldn’t have kids,
had no one to talk to, and was lonely.  That doesn’t justify it, but it’s his
excuse.  I should have figured that eventually I would bore him, particularly
as I refuse to talk to him, but I guess he got too attached to kill me, so he
brought you in instead.  The reason you were dressed the way you were is
because he wanted me to have sex with you - and he didn’t give us contraception
so you would get pregnant.”
    “That’s messed up.”  I whisper.  “We’re a science experiment.  You’re
telling me that he’s observing how we react to each other...”
    “I don’t know if he has cameras and microphones, but we should assume that
there are, at least outside the bedroom.”  
    “...I just want to go home...”  I feel myself shiver, tears beginning to
form as the reality of the situation dawns on me.  Brandon gets out of his seat
to hug me gently.  “I know, Lindsey, I know.”  He brushes hair out of my face,
his fingers lingering on me just a second too long.  
    Brandon, who am I to you?  I want to be your friend, I really do.
 But...you’re getting to me.  I don’t even think you even know you’re doing it.
 You...  You’re not as, um, beautiful, as the other guys I know, you’re not the
nicest, you’re not the smartest...
     But you’re you, and I’m somehow falling for you.  I don’t understand the
feelings I have for you.  All I know is it started when you gave me my decency
back.  You’re weird, to say the least.  I’ve never met anyone as obsessed as
you are when it comes to fixing beds.  You are actually an amazing cook,
although I’ll never tell you that.  You hit me back then, but that was before
we knew each other, and anyways, I started it.  Since then you’ve been so
comforting and nice to me, politeness that I don’t deserve and shouldn’t have
gotten...but yet you give it to me.
     But it’s more than that, isn’t it?  You haven’t just been kind, you’ve
been friendly.  Because of you, I’ve almost could enjoy being here.  It’s been
almost a day, but you’ve made it feel like a few short hours.  Of course,
there’s a few times where you are just incredibly annoying, like when you tied
me to your arm - the nerve!  But I even managed to find that fun, somehow.
 Just being around you makes me happy, and these hours of my life have been,
unexpectedly, amazing, to say the least.  It’s hard to forget the conditions
I’m in - hell, you even pointed out the fact that I was supposed to carry your
child - but, you know what?  Right now, if I had to trust someone to go through
those steps with me, it’d be you!  Of course, right now, I’m a long way from
letting you even touch me - but, I’ve grown to really like you, and somehow
even began trusting you.  Are you just setting me up?  Or...are you being truly
genuine?  
     I’m inclined to believe the latter.  There have been a lot of times when
you could’ve taken advantage of me, and there would have been absolutely
nothing I could do about it - you proved you were a lot stronger than me this
morning, and our discussion yesterday showed me that you were a lot smarter.
 But...you haven’t.  You’ve gone out of your way to be kind to me, and that’s
something I really do appreciate.  Just now, you cooked me breakfast.  You
didn’t need to do that, and I would be willing to bet that you shouldn’t have -
but you did anyways.  And then...
    In the bedroom, after you fixed the bed - what was that?  You looked like
you were going to kiss me, and in the heat of the moment, I wouldn't have
minded at all!  I...Sometimes it's hard to remember that we've only just met
because I feel as though you already know who I am!  And I have learned a lot
about you, too, even if you don't want to talk.
    You're unexpectedly kind.  You're very caring, and put others before
yourself.  It was freezing cold when you passed off your sweaterjacket to me -
what kind of heart do you have to offer me that in this weather?  You're smart
and thoughtful - you must be, if you've spent so much time alone with no
company.  I remember the weird discussion we had after you gave me your
sweaterjacket - you were hostile and cold then, but likely because I kept
pushing the line.  But after your breakdown, for lack of a better word,
you...You changed.  Is it because you decided you could trust me?  Or some
other reason?
    You’re so fun to tease, too - your mortified face when I teased you just
now was absolutely adorable.  To be honest, I’m not too sure what I thought of
it myself - absolute embarrassment for me at first when I realized just what
was pressing against me but then an odd sort of...happiness?  I don't know.  It
thrills me to think that I might be the one eliciting that reaction from you.
 Am I attractive to you?  I don't mean to tease you, but sometimes, I just
can't help it.  You have the strangest quirks, and you're just...
   Do you like me?  As a friend?  More?  When you broke out of that cold,
indifferent facade...I really loved that.  Because it doesn't suit you.  You're
a warm person, even if you don't believe it.  Even if you want to be that dark
person.  I know that this is the real you.  The heat prickling along my cheeks
attests to that.  I want to be here for you, to help you be this amazing person
you hid from me at the start.  If I was the reason for your transformation,
then I want to stay by you always.
    "Are you okay?  You look a bit warm."  Brandon places a hand on my
forehead, which of course serves to make me blush more.  "I-I'm fine!"  I say,
swatting his hand away before bopping him on the head lightly.  “Keep your
hands to yourself."
     "You're one to talk!  He sputters indignantly, which just makes me laugh.
 "What was I supposed to do?  Let you cry all by yourself?  Tha-"
    "Right there!"  I say.  He gives me a confused look.  "That's the person
you should be, not the dark person you were when I met you."  He frowns at
that.  "That's the real me, not this butterfly-ish happy person-"
    I punch him in the stomach, just like I did yesterday, and he drops to the
ground.  Instead of helping him up, though, I go down on my knees and look him
in the eyes.  
    "Brandon.  You're actually a really good person, even if you don't believe
it yourself.  Hit me again, for all I care - but I won't cry this time.
 Because being around you gives me the strength I need."
    "You're an idiot."  He finally says, glaring up at me.
    "I know!"  I say cheerfully.
    "Dork."
    "Rude."
    "If you do that again I'll hang you from the ceiling."  
    "Meanie."  In response, Brandon rolls his eyes.  "You ARE a dork.  And I
love it."  He reaches up and pats my head affectionately as I alternate between
annoyance and embarrassment.  "H-Hey, you-"
    “Hm?”  
    “...jerk.”  Is all I can come up with.  He smiles a bit and takes his hand
off my head.  “You know, I could actually grow to like you a little.”  I poke
him in his side.  “I already know you like me lots.”  He raises an eyebrow.
 “This morning.”
   “That never happened.”  Aw, he’s flustered again!  How cute!  
   “Yes it did~”
   “Are you going to bring that up every ten seconds?”  He sounds exasperated.
 Pushing him a little too hard, I think.
    "It was cute, though!"  Okay, maybe a little more.  He takes my last piece
of bacon.  "Hey!"  That's when I notice something.  "Aren't you going to eat?"
     "Um, I already ate."  I frown.  "No you didn't.  Why didn't you make
something for yourself?  Did I take all the food?"
    "You only ate two eggs, you know."
    "Irrelevant."  I say, mimicking him from yesterday.  "I'm just not hungry."
 He says, shrugging.  Then his stomach growls.
     "Brandon-"
     "Let it go."
     "...Okay..."  My mind is spinning with the repercussions.  He's hungry,
yet he didn't make food for himself.  Why?  What's he hiding from me?  
     I get up and walk over to the kitchen, searching through the pantry.
 Bacon.  Eggs.  Potatoes.  A bag of chips.  Bottled water, juice, random
leftovers, spaghetti, milk, cereal, fruit, and many other various ingredients.
 We'd have to do a shopping run in a week if he had bothered to actually eat.
 But we're not low on food by any means.  I can feel his bemused stare on me as
I turn around.  
    The temptation to barrage him with questions makes me antsy, but I know
that I've been really annoying today and I don't ask him, choosing instead to
move towards the window, staring outside at the cars and tree that line the
road.
    It's so easy to forget that I've been kidnapped sometimes.  Brandon just
makes things so much easier.  But...I...When I think about all the things that
have happened, and the things that could possibly happen...It scares me.  My
first kiss...my virginity...all things that I've stubbornly protected, holding
onto them for so long, refusing to give them away.  But both were almost stolen
from me yesterday.  It would've been quick.  An hour, maybe.  I've tried so
hard to guard them but in the end, it wouldn't have mattered.  Being so
helpless...it's terrifying!  I hate it.  This confinement is suffocating.
    "What stops us?"  I turn around to face the black-haired boy.
    "What?"
    "What stops me from breaking this window and escaping right now?"
    "You're not going to try, are you?"
    "Just answer the question!"
    Brandon sighs.  "There's about five guard dogs outside and I'd be willing
to bet that they've all memorized your scent.  Go outside and they'll take your
foot off and drag you back."  I shudder.  "There's also this."  He pulls up his
jeans leg to show me the thin black tracker around his ankle.  "An electric
fence out there communicates with this and electrocutes me accordingly.  You
don't have it, but it wouldn't let me out."
    "Have you tried to resist it?"
    "Sure.  Once."
    "What happened?"
    "I dragged myself about two feet before my heart stopped.  It was a suicide
attempt as much as it was an escape attempt."  He spits the last part out.
    Brandon...You...
    "The worst defense is him.  He looks old, right?"  I nod, but it's a
rhetorical question.  "He's fast as a snake and strong as an elephant.  Ex-
Army, and owns a personal silenced handgun.  I've tried three times to kill
him, and all failed."  I gasp.  Kill...?  "The first time was when I
underestimated him just like you did.  I tried to beat him in hand-to-hand
combat.  Then I tried to stab him in the back three weeks later.  Then I tried
to decapitate him in his sleep.  All three attempts, he knocked me out within
ten seconds.  He's also impossibly strategic.  It's like playing a game of
chess where he's won before your first move.  The final time he knocked me out,
I was unconscious for three days.  Don't bother trying.  It's not possible.  As
far as being kidnapped goes, I've heard about a lot worse.  This isn't so bad."
    "You don't need to tell me he's tough.  I know that from experience."
    "Do tell."
    "While he was kidnapping me, I managed to punch him in the face."
 Brandon's eyes widen.  "He laughed, then slammed my head into the wall."  The
boy across from me winces.  "Does it still hurt?"  I shake my head.  "Just a
slight headache.  I guess I must have been out for a while, because I woke up
in the house, and my whole body was stiff."
    “What happened?  How did he take you?”  
    “Well...”  
 
    “Hey, Lindsey, wait up!”  A red-haired girl with wide blue eyes runs up to
me, out of breath.  “Um, huh?  What’s up, Anna?”  
    “The others are going to the coffee store, you wanna come?  I mean, Nick’s
going to be there...”  The girl swoons as I laugh softly.  That boy’s going to
be a model one day, and all the girls know it.  That’s pretty much why I avoid
him - I hate the stupid happy smile I find myself wearing around him - and
against all odds, I think he likes me too.  The casual hands around my
shoulders makes me think that he is flirting with me.  But my heart knows
better, even if my body doesn't.  I don't like his arrogance and the fact that
he thinks that he is entitled to anything he wants.
    "No, I'll pass.  I have some homework I need to do."  I lie with a twang of
guilt in my heart.  I don't want to have to lie to my best friend, but Nick is
someone I want to avoid.  I really do.
    "Hmph.  Prude."  As usual, Anna knows exactly what I am thinking.  "I don't
want to have a relationship with anyone right now."
     "There's always friends wit-"
     "NO!"  I shriek.  The redhead sighs.  "You're turning down the hottest
thing to hit California.  I wish I had your body."  I shudder.  "Don't even
think about it."
     She glances back towards the coffee shop.  "I'm gonna hurry up and tell
the other girls that he went home sick so I can have him all to myself."  A
smirk adorns her lips.  "Ciao!"
     "Yup, see you."  Anna turns around and runs off towards the nearest group
of girls as I sigh bemusedly.  I don't want attention because of my body - why
else would I have added four inches of length to my school skirts?  Hell, I
don't even wear makeup!  Most of the girls hate me, and a lot of the guys like
me - damnit, I don't want people staring at me everywhere I go!  Why can't
people be more considerate?!  That's why I'm walking home instead of going to
the coffee shop.  I just want to be alone, to drown in my music and play the
piano.  I want people to like me for who I am, not what I look like!  I run
home, it's less than half a mile away and pretty isolated.  It won't take me
even five minutes to get there.
    I bump into someone as I step into my home street, stifling a scream when I
recognize the person.
    "Nick?  W-What are you doing here?  I thought you were at-"  I stop in my
tracks as he puts a finger to my lips.  "I invited you personally, so why are
you walking home?"  I can keep control.  I won't be played with by this boy.
 His countenance is friendly but I know a snake hides behind it.
    "I know.  Anna told me."  He raises an eyebrow.  "I declined it."  
    "I figured you would.  That's the kind of person you are.  You don't like
the attention from others?"
    "No."
    "Neither do I."  I give him an incredulous look.  "I'd rather keep their
attention and be the popular guy then the one left alone forever."
 That's...plausible, I guess.  I smile politely.
    "It was nice talking to you, but I have some hom-"
     "I actually came out here to see if you would be willing to watch a movie
with me.  Just the two of us."  My eyes widen.  "It would be really fun.  My
treat."  He gives me a teasing smile.
     "A-As generous as that is, I really do need to do m-"
      "Alright, fine, have it your way."  In an instant, the facade is gone and
he pins me to the wall forcefully, the impact taking my breath away.  "Scream
and I'll slit your throat."  He whispers into my ear, before grabbing my wrists
with one of his hands and pinning my arms uncomfortably out me.  I try to knee
him in the crotch but he anticipates it and punches my stomach hard with his
free hand, expelling the air from my lungs again.  His leg slides between mine
and effectively immobilizes me as one of his hands find the hem of my skirt and
pulls it up.
    Would he really kill me if I screamed for help?  Why isn't anyone coming to
my rescue?!  My eyes quickly dart around, but the streets and sidewalks are
empty, except for one older-looking man that sports sunglasses and headphones
across the street.  I'll go for it.
    "He-"  Nick headbutts me forcefully, slamming my head painfully into the
wall and stunning me.  I can feel something wet on the back of my head as my
vision is blotted out by dark spots.  "Shut the fuck up, bitch!"  He seethes,
as the hand up my skirt squeezes my thigh.  "I'll fucking kill you if I have
to!"  His fingers scrape the top of my panties as he laughs darkly.   "Look at
you, already wet."  A tear slides down my face as I look away in embarrassment,
hot shame coursing through my veins.  "You pretend to be the prude bitch that
wants to 'save it for marriage', but look at you now!"  He grinds his hand
against my clothed womanhood and I stifle a gasp.  "You're just another whore!"
 His mouth sucks at my exposed neck.
    "Stop!"  I whisper, as Nick pulls his hand out of my skirt and forces me to
turn my head to him.  "I'm going to show you a proper kiss, and you're going to
like it, too!  Then I'll lead you to my car and we'll head to my house and I'll
show you how to have a really good time."  I shudder violently and squirm,
stopping when I realize that it is accomplishing nothing.  "Kiss me, Lindsey."
 That evil smirk is on his face.
    I headbutt him hard, feeling a twisted pleasure inside of me as I hear his
nose shatter.  I manage to shove him off me hard, darting away.  Did I do it?
    He grabs my arm and yanks, slamming me against the wall, hard.  For the
second time my vision goes white as I collapse to the ground in pain, but he’s
not done there.  He kicks me in the ribs again and I almost black out as the
agony tends to engulf me.  But...I can’t.  I have to fight.  I have to-
     My knee is blocked by his hand, my fist by his arm.  Suddenly a cold metal
presses against my neck.
     “Don’t move.”  Nick says, and my eyes widen as I realize that the thing is
a gun.  “I’ll shoot you if you even blink.”  
     “You stupid bitch!”  He says, seething, “How dare you have the fucking
audacity to touch me, you-”  I twist away from him and kick him in the arm
hard.  He clips me in the temple with a wild swing of his gun and I fall to my
knees, my hand flying to my forehead and coming away bloody.   He points the
gun at me and I close my eyes.
     A gunshot.
    
    Thump thump.  Thump thump.  Thump thump.  Thump thump.
    I’m alive.  
    I open my eyes to see the old man calmly put a pistol back into his
waistband.  It’s the man from across the street!  I look down to see Nick
collapsed face-first on the ground, crimson spreading out from his head.  The
man holds a hand out to me as bile rises in my throat.
    Should I be revolted that this same hand held the gun that murdered someone
in front of me, or thankful that he saved my life?  I don’t want to
look...rude, at the very least, so I accept it and let him pull me up, standing
on shaky legs that feel ready to fold under me at any second.  
     “I’m sorry.  I know that it makes you uncomfortable that I had to kill
him, but it was the only way to reach you in time.”  He gives me a thin smile.
 “Christian.”
    “Thank you, sir.”  I say shakily, and his grin turns sadistic.  "You'll
wish you were dead when I finish-"  I punch him in the face, already realizing
the situation I've gotten myself into.  I put a lot of spring into that one -
it should blind him, so if I sprint away-
    He laughs, a chilling sound that makes my blood run cold, then moves
forward at an insane pace and slams my head into the wall.
    Everything goes black.
 
    "That's the last thing I remember."  I say, bringing my storytelling to an
end.
    "You're very lucky that Nick was there."  I blink.  Of all the things that
Brandon could have said, that was not one of them.  "Wha-"
     "If he hadn't delayed you, you would have made it home.  Had that
happened, he would have killed your whole family and burnt your house to the
ground.  Just like me."  I shiver.  He's right.  In comparison...I got off
lightly.  He's also right when he says that, considering the fact that we've
both been kidnapped, our treatment is...excellent.  Food, water, nearly
unrestricted movement...it isn't so terrible.  That doesn't stop me from
wishing I was home, safe, and unscathed, but it does make me appreciate my
circumstances a lot more.
    "Did Christian..."  He swallows, "Did he touch you, too?"  I shudder at the
thought of his murderous hands on me.  "No, he didn't.  He watched me put on
the..."  I don't think clothes is a proper word for the tiny little scraps of
cloth I was provided with.  He nods.  "He didn't once touch me, though."  
     "Good."  Brandon says, standing up to pick up the fork and plate I left
behind and taking it to the sink, flipping on the faucet.  
    "Um, Brandon, I got it."  I say hastily, running over to him as he picks up
a sponge.  "No, it's fine."  He says, as I try to steal the sponge out of his
hand.  "Give it!"
    "No!"
    "It's my dishes!"
    "Yeah?  It's my sponge!"
    "I can wash my own dishes!"
    "Too bad!  I'm doing them!"
     That.  I find myself with a smile on my face as he holds the sponge out of
my reach.  We were just talking about death and scary things, and look at us!
 We're fighting over who gets to wash dishes.  
    He scrapes the sponge over my nose, leaving suds behind.  "Hey!  Jerk!"
    "You're trying to steal my sponge!"
    "Yes!  Give it!"
    He rubs soap on my hair.  "There!"
    "Stop it, you jerk!"
    "It's my sponge!"
    I splash water in his face and laugh as it goes into his mouth.
    “Lindsey!”  I snatch the sponge away from him and the plate he’s holding.
 “Mine!”  I hold it protectively against my chest before realize I’m just
getting soap all over his sweaterjacket.  He pokes me in the side, which causes
me to burst into hysterical giggles.  I’m ticklish there, and he exploits that
fact, taking both objects back.  I childishly pout as he cleans off the plate
and puts it away, the fork following moments after.
    “...Cheater.”  
    “Ehehehe.”
    “Hey, Brandon?”  He looks at me.  “Yeah?”  
    “Thank you.”
    Do you know how much you’ve done for me?  Are you able to properly
appreciate how much you’ve made my life better?  Do you even know?
    It started yesterday, when you protected the thing most valuable to me - my
freedom.  Sex, to me, is a freedom.  It should be something that YOU choose to
give away, and never something taken from you.  I would rather die holding on
to that choice than to live losing it.  And, Brandon...maybe you didn’t realize
what your simple act meant to me...but it matters, so very much.  I can’t even
begin to thank you for that.  Maybe...Maybe one day, I would
consider...allowing you...
     “Thinking about something?”  His voice cuts through my thoughts.  I stare
at him.  “Um, yeah.”  Because I don’t put emphasis on personal appearance, I
haven’t really been able to see Brandon past his black eyes and hair, but,
now...
      “What about?”  He’s actually kind of cute.  “You.”  I answer honestly,
enjoying the way he blushes just a little.  “Um, good things?”
     “I was thinking about how dorky you were, actually.”
     “Says you!”
     “What have I done to give you that impression?”
     “Let’s see...You spent a good five minutes today sulking in a corner while
sniffing my clothes, you randomly search through my stuff, you tried to steal
my sponge, you’re under the insane delusion that you deserve to be hit, you cry
when I do for absolutely no reason, you’ve been constantly hitting on me-”
    “I have not!”
    “-messed up my bed for no reason, punch me with no provocation...oh, and
you use the word ‘meanie’.”  I frown.  “That doesn’t mean I-”
    “You.  Are.  A.  Dork.”  Brandon punctuates each word with a poke to my
forehead.  “That’s good.”  He says, smiling.  “It’s you, and I like you.”  His
words sink in as I flush, warmth spreading through my body.  “Don’t take that
the wrong way.”  He warns me, as I nod meekly.
    Brandon, do you...
    Do you like me too?
 
Chapter End Notes
     I own the characters.
***** Secret Sister *****
     “Brandon, you there?”  Oh god, it's Christian.  Lindsey and I freeze from
our spots on the bed.  "Yeah."  I finally say as the brunette quickly gets up,
brushing a hand against my arm before retreating to the corner of the room.
    "Come out here, please."  I glance at Lindsey who smiles bravely for my
sake.  I'm not sure what he wants, so it's better to leave her out of this.
 Unnecessarily involving her could turn out to be dangerous to her.  I won’t
bring her into this.  So I walk out alone, and shut the door behind me.
     "What is it?"  I ask mildly.  "Something wrong?"  
     "I know that you've figured out my true intentions for the girl.  You were
also correct - indeed, I have microphones and cameras in the house, though I do
not have the latter in your bedroom.  I figured that you would want the privacy
and that when the time came, both of you would appreciate it."  I nod.  It's
uncharacteristic of him to give away that information - is he lying to lower my
guard?  I'll check the room later.
    "You'll need to start...preparing the girl."  He says, surprisingly
delicate.  My heart drops to my stomach.  "You don't mean-"
    "Yes, you need her to be comfortable with the idea of sex.  With you.  As
she's a virgin, and I understand that you have a healthy respect for her
feelings, I will allot you time to get her used to it.  If you don't meet the
deadline, I will have to find another girl, and I know you don't want that."
 We both know that in finding another girl, he'll kill Lindsey, first.
    "How long?"  I ask hoarsely.  "Three weeks."
    "That's not possibl-"
    "Three weeks and she had better not be a virgin, lest I decide to replace
her."
    "O-Okay."
    "And, one last thing.  If she tries to escape, you, not her, will be
punished.  Keep that in mind."
    "Okay."
    “That will be all.  If you want to buy her gifts...or anything else you
need to help her, it’ll come out of your allowance.  Manual labor is always an
option, or you could just ra-”
    “Absolutely not.”  
    He snorts.  “Just get it done.  That’s all.  You know how to contact me.”
 He turns around without further conversation and leaves.  I’m tempted to shove
him down the stairs, but I’m perfectly aware that it won’t work.  He’s just too
strong.  
    “What did he want to talk to you about?”  Lindsey asks when I walk back in.
 My mood darkens.
    “He...”  I clench my fists.  
     Do I really want to tell her now?  I should.  She’ll have more time to be
accustomed to the idea, and it’s already too late to pretend like nothing is
wrong...But...this will ruin our tentative friendship.  This is absolutely the
last thing I want to do to her.  It’s just...This isn’t fair!  Lindsey, this is
the worst thing I could do to you.  This is basically rape.  I...
     “What’s the matter?”  
     “He wants me...to...”
     “Lindsey, I have to impregnate you.”  
 
    “...No.”  The brunette whispers, shaking her head violently.  “You can’t
be...no!”
    “Three weeks.  He said three weeks.”  She looks revolted at the thought.
 “Brandon, you won’t really...”
    “I’m sorry, Lindsey.”
    “Just kill me now, then.”  My eyes widen.  “Lindsey-”
    “FUCK NO!”  I flinch.  “JUST FUCKING KILL ME NOW!”  Tears spring up in her
eyes as she fiercely wipes them away.  
    Instead of replying, I turn away, hiding my own weakness.  Lindsey...I...
    “Help me kill myself.”  She finally says quietly.  I flinch again.
    “I’ll follow you.”  It’s her turn to recoil.  “You can’t, Brandon, you have
your whole-”
    “Life ahead of me?”  I say sarcastically.  “Whole lot of fucking good that
does me.  I don’t have a family.  I’ve pretty much lost my chance to graduate
high school, let alone find a career.  I don’t have ANYTHING left!  I’ve been
stuck here for over a year, Lindsey - I should be dead, but I’m not!  I don’t
want to be here JUST as much as you want to escape, but it’s not fucking
happening!  You’re the only person besides Christian I’ve seen in over a year,
and you already want to kill yourself!  What the fuck?!  WHAT THE FUCK?!”  I
punch the wall, sending cracks in the plaster.  “I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE
EITHER!  I-”
    “Stop!”  She says quietly, tears freely running down her cheeks.
 “Please...”  I stare, stunned, as she slowly collapses to the ground, the most
awful sound coming from between her hands as she begins to sob into her palms.
 
     Morena.  That’s who...
 
    “Hey, Brandon!”  My little sister, just thirteen but already mature enough
to know that I’m deep in thought, hops up to me.  I smile back at her.  “Heya,
Morena.”  She’s such a little cutie, light brown eyes with matching hair tied
in long ponytails and the most adorable face.  I can’t help but feel an urge to
protect her, but most of the time, it’s not needed.  She’s devastatingly smart
and mature both, but nevertheless overwhelmingly kind and positive.  
    “You look sad.  What’s up?”  So perceptive, too.  I can tell that she’ll
grow up to be an absolutely wonderful person, if she continues to grow at the
rate she does.  Intelligent, pretty, and compassionate.  In other words,
basically everything I’m not.
   Despite that, jealousy isn’t an emotion I feel against her.  She’s so
welcoming, it’s almost impossible to hate her.  Sometimes I watch her walk up
to some random stranger on the street just to wish them a good morning.  
    “Ah, nothing really.”  She gives me a stern look.  “I can always tell when
you’re down.  What is it?  You know you can trust me!”  I can, and I do.  I’ve
already told her things that would make my parents blanch, but Morena is just
on another level.  
    “Heh, can’t get anything past you, can I?”  She shakes her head.  “Well, I
just wish I was a little more like you.”  Her eyes widen comically.  “You’re
really the best person I know.  So smart and caring.  Mature, respectful-”
    “Oh, no.  Haha.  The best person you know-”  she pokes my chest, “is you.
 You underestimate yourself."  
   "But I-"
   "The reason I try so hard in school is because of you.  You're my
inspiration, Brandon.  I want to be like you because you care about others,
even if you pretend not to.  Like when you helped the neighbor with her
groceries yesterday, or when you realized the tourist was lost and showed him
the right way."
    "But that's jus-"
    "Community service, I know.  But there aren't many people at all who go out
of their way to not only be nice to people, but to look for people who might
need assistance.  You're like a 24/7 lifeguard.  Very few others could say the
same.  So I want to be like you, to care so much about others just like that."
 I step forward to hug the brunette gently.  "Thanks.  That really means a
lot."  The girl just makes a content noise and wraps her arms around me
happily.
   The doorbell rings.  Morena hops up to answer it but stops when she sees our
mom go for the door.  "Hey, wanna go play your racing video game now?"  I've
already mastered it, being a natural at any game I choose, but I let the
younger girl win most of the time anyways.  It's fun for both of us, when I
bother to play, that is.
    "Yes!"  She says cheerfully, running off towards her room.  "I'll beat you
this time!"  She says, and I smirk knowingly.  We're both smart enough to know
that I control the flow of the game.
    I chase after her as she laughs, and for a moment, we're just living in the
moment.
    I'm just about to tackle her when my mother screams.  Just for a second,
then the sound abruptly chokes off.  Morena and I stare at each other with wide
eyes.  "Hide in here."  I whisper.
    "No, I want to go with you!"
    "Please, Morena."  She must hear the desperation in my voice, because she
nods and scurries deeper into the room.
    Outside, I can hear the sound of breaking glass.  Heart pounding, I tiptoe
down the hallway into the kitchen to watch my dad be shot right through the
head.  I stumble back in fear as the gunman, a tall man with jet black hair,
kicks the body aside and meets my eyes. He raises the gun and fires.
   If I hadn't been already moving, I'd be dead.  The plaster behind me
shatters as I dart back into the corridor, realizing too late that I'm trapped.
 I run down to the end of the hallway and duck as a bullet explodes next to my
head.  He appears at the other side, gun pointed at my head.
   It's too late.  I can only hope that Morena has found a good hiding spot and
has the intuition to stay.  I shut my eyes:
   "No!"  A girl's voice screams, and Morena darts out of the doorway next to
me as the mysterious gunman fires.
    Warmth against my face.
    Morena...?
    The brunette collapse to the ground, giving me just enough time to catch
her before her head slams against the floor.  I notice but do not comprehend
the small bloodstain staining her shirt, nor do I pay attention to the liquid
trickling out of her mouth.  "Morena!"  This must be a dream.  No, no,
no...I...
     "Brandon."  The brunette opens her eyes to gasp quietly.  I stare at her
as she struggles to speak.  "I'm adopted."  
    "W-What?"
    "When you...were three."  A fresh stream of blood slides down her chin.
 "I'm...telling you this, because...I..."  
    "Please be my first kiss."
 
***** Repose *****
 
    He can't be serious.  This is worse than any punishment that could've been
thought out.  Labor, no food, physical torture - fine!  If I could choose that
over this hell, I'd take it in a second!  But this...  Anything but this...
    Through my tears, I watch Brandon crumple onto the ground, startling me out
of my thoughts.  
    No!  It's his fault this is happening!  Don't help him!
    That's irrational!  He couldn't have known-
    Why else would you be here for, you idiot?  He even told you before what
Christian's objectives were!  This shouldn't even be a surprise!
    I don't want to...
    He told you he would get you out!
    He was just trying to comfort me!  We both know we’re stuck here!
    I'm scared...
    He could have convinced him to find a different girl!  It didn't have to be
me!
    Would you have rather died?  Christian wouldn't have let you go back home!
 He would have killed you!
    Yes!  I want to die!  I'd rather die than live in this hell people call-
     SHUT UP!  ALL OF YOU SHUT UP!
    The voices go silent.  I force my weak, vulnerable self to retreat.  I can
cry later.  Later...
    "Brandon, are you okay?"  He doesn't respond.  "Hey..."  I walk over to him
and shake his arm gently, then roughly.  Absolutely nothing.
    "This isn't funny, Brandon."  I put two fingers next to his neck and am
relieved when I find a pulse.  "Brandon, get up..."  I put a hand over his
mouth and feel his warm breath against my palm.  "What's wrong?"  All I know is
that he's alive.  "Are you...sleeping?  Just really tired?"  Yeah, that must be
it.  He's fine, of course he is.  Overreaction much?
     "I'm sorry for disturbing you."  I say, "I'll bring you onto the bed,
though.  That will be better for your back."  I pick him up, staggering a bit
at his unexpected weight, before taking him down to his bed.  Sheesh...I'm
actually kind of tired, too.  I glance at my normal spot on the floor before
looking back at the boy unconscious on the mattress.  
    I do need to get comfortable with him eventually, don’t I?  And it’s not
like us sleeping together is anything new...
    Am I...really getting comfortable with the idea...?  I can’t be, can I?  
    I’m resigned to it.  That’s it.  There’s just nothing left for me, now.  I
can’t get out, and neither can he.  Dying...dying will not help anything.  It’s
just going to hurt him.  Maybe one day...we’ll be set free.  I can hold on to
that hope, can’t I?  Eventually Christian will get old and Brandon will be able
to knock him out and set us free...
    So that’s it.  I’ve just given up struggling.  There’s no point in
resisting.  It will just wind up hurting me in the long run.  It has to happen
eventually, I guess...I don’t want it, but if there’s nothing I can do about
it, I’d rather it be Brandon than...someone like Christian or Nick.  I can
trust him to take care of me and to respect my feelings, at least.  
    “Okay.”  I whisper to myself.  “Okay.”  I walk over to the bed, gently take
off Brandon’s sweaterjacket, and lie down on it, rolling over so that I’m
touching him.  Goosebumps erupt on my shoulders and arms.  
     "He’s warm."  I think to myself, closing my eyes.  Comforting, even if
he’s totally asleep.  How weird is that?  That I feel protected in his most
vulnerable state?
    I won’t kill myself, not because I want to live, because I want him to
live.  He told me that he’d follow me into death if I took that step...I don’t
want that.  He deserves to escape, to live, and to be happy.  You need to live,
Brandon.  Because I...  
   I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
 
  “Ugh...”  I open my eyes, shielding them from the bright sunlight that shines
through the open window.  “Good morning.”  I groan, quickly rolling off the bed
into a standing position.  It’s morning...?  I actually slept through the whole
day and night of yesterday?  Or is it sunset?  I walk over to the shutters and
glance outside.  Huh.  It’s the late afternoon, although I don’t know what day
it is.  
   Brandon’s still sleeping.  I leave him to it, staring thoughtfully at the
sun steadily dipping into the horizon.
   Yesterday, assuming I slept through a whole day, night, and now, another
day, yesterday I was so against even the thought of being touched by Brandon.
 But today...
   I don’t look forward to it, not at all.  Even if it’s someone I trust,
still...I’m really just not ready for it.  I’m not even eighteen!  But I know
that Brandon’ll respect my feelings.  He’ll listen to me.  Even if I would
rather not go through this...process...I know that he’ll do his best to make it
as comfortable as possible for me.  It could be so much worse.  So...I can be
happy.  
   After all, why should I need to protect something if I can give it who will
treat it with just as much respect as I will?  
   Someone knocks at the door, three steady and firm taps.  It must be
Christian.  I glance at the sleeping Brandon as I slip my sweaterjacket back
on.
   Should I open the door without him awake?  It might be bad...  No, there’s
no choice.  He’ll force it open if he has to.  I gently twist the doorknob to
face my...no, our tormentor.  
   “He's still sleeping?"  Christian asks quietly, and I nod.  “Have we been
sleeping for a whole day?”  He nods.  “About 30 hours.”  I wince.  No wonder my
whole body is so sore...  “Oh, okay.  Did you come here just to check on us, or
is there something else?”  I’m poised for action, ready to dart away if he
makes even the slightest movement towards me.  “There’s something else, yes.”  
   “Lindsey.”  I bristle at the casual use of my name.  “I just want to let you
know that he’s treating you much more kindly than he should be.”  I stare
openly at him.  “Technically, the relationship between you two should be master
and servant.  However-”  He cuts me off as I make to protest, “-due to his
kindness, he has decided to allow you freedoms you have not even begun to
deserve.”  He’s right.
   “Do not forget, however, that I expect you to register positive for a
pregnancy test soon.  This is something that I will not let up on.  He has
three weeks to make his first attempt.  As I am aware that it does not always
take, I will not be terribly harsh on the final deadline, but I have warned him
that you can not remain as pure as you wish.”  Trembles run throughout my body.
 How has Brandon lived under this man’s control for so long?
   “Being the stupidly benevolent idiot that he is, he wishes to make this
process as slow and gradual for you as much as he possibly can, but, knowing
him-”  How dare you presume to know Brandon.  How dare you!  “-he will be too
afraid to request this of you, so I will ask on his behalf.”  His cold blue
eyes meet my own.  “If there are mechanical methods that you would prefer to
use to prepare yourself, you need to let him know.”
   “...What?”
   “Sexual toys.”  I blanch.  “What...?”
   “I’ve been informed that it supposedly helps you get used to the sensation
of having something inside of you for the first time.  If you want something
like that, you need to inform him.”  I bury my face into my hands.  Ugh...
   I realize he’s waiting for my reply.  “O-Okay...”  
   Christian nods at the boy sleeping on the bed, and for the first time I
recognize an emotion that doesn’t seem fitting on his face:  Pride.  “Take care
of the kid.  He values you as more than just a body, and you’d do well to
realize that.  I listened to you yelling at him, and he doesn’t deserve that,
after the sacrifices he’s been going through to protect you.”  
    Sacrifices?  Brandon...Just what have I been missing?  What have you been
doing?  I think back to the time he skipped breakfast.  I wanted to pressure
him on that, but he told me to drop it, so I did.  What else haven’t I seen?  
    “If he doesn’t wake up in a few hours, let me know.  You can contact me by
pressing the green button on his ankle collar.  You know where that is?”  
    “Yes, sir.”
    “There’s a sandwich in the fridge downstairs for you, and a few water
bottles.  I trust you’re not stupid enough to try to escape, but if you are-”
 He laughs darkly.  “I will not punish you directly.  Instead, I’ll take it out
on him.”  I gasp.  “Do you understand?”  I force myself to nod mutely.
 “That’ll be all for now.”  He turns to leave, but hesitates.
    “When he wakes up, tell him I have a letter addressed to him.  It’s written
by Morena.”  He walks out the door, leaving me with a plethora of questions and
no answers.
    “...Morena?”  I whisper to myself, feeling a sharp pain of agony in my
chest.  
    ...Is he keeping in touch with another girl?
 
    It’s another hour before Brandon wakes up, scaring the hell out of me as I
stare out the window, creeping up behind me with silent footfalls.
    "Hi there."  He murmurs into my ear as I yelp and jump away.  "H-Hey!"  I
protest, but I relax quickly as he holds me in a familiar, comforting embrace.
     "I'm sorry about yesterday."  I whisper.  He deserves an apology, at the
very least.  I have to constantly remind myself of how much I really owe him.
    "No...I told you I would protect you..."  He says, his grip loosening
slightly.  I turn around to face him.  "Don't say that.  None of this was your
fault."  
    "And..."  I stare into his eyes, which I now realize are brown, not black.
  "If I'm going to do this, I'm happy that it is with you."
    "...Me too."  I want to kiss him, and I know he knows that I want to kiss
him, because he draws away ever so slightly.  “Not now.”  
    “Why?”  
    “I need to brush my teeth.”  He says, smirking slightly.  His fingers brush
the pinkened skin of my cheeks before he darts away.  
     I guess that things are back to normal.
 
    “Oh...crap...”  Brandon breathes out, staring at the bed.  I shake my head.
     "It's just a few-"
     "Shhhh."  I resist the urge to sigh as he gently runs his hands over the
bedsheet, and, more importantly, the numerous ridges in the fabric that no
amount of prodding will get out.  Lying on them for over a day will do that to
it.  
     “Well, shit.”  He whispers, and I flinch at the language.  “Sorry.”  
     “What’s so important about it anyways?  Surely it’s not that big of a
deal?”  Brandon gives me a look that suggests I’m prodding into unexplored
territory.  
     “...It is.”  He finally says, and I’m stunned to see him wipe his face
angrily as if he’s trying to hide his tears.
     “Why?”
     “Because...”  He collapses onto the bed, closing his eyes in what I
finally realize to be grief.  “My mom.”
     “I hated doing chores, and my mom would always get on me for it.  The day
she died, we had an argument over how messy my room was.  A few minutes
later...”
      There’s nothing I can possibly say to ease the angst he’s feeling.  I
didn’t know...I didn’t know it meant so much to him, this simple ritual.  What
must he have felt when I had messed up the bed all the way back then?  God, I’m
an idiot!
     “I’m sorry.”  It’s the first thing I can think of.  
     “Yeah, well, things happen.”  He tries to sound nonchalant but I can hear
the pain in his voice.  “So I just do this.  Simple.  An obligation.  Anything,
really.  It’s fine now.”  
     And I thought that my life was bad!  But I still have a family!  All of
his was murdered right in front of him!  I’ve been here for barely two days!
 He’s been here for over a year!  There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that I
am suffering that he hasn’t had worse of...
     Wait, that’s not true.
     ...Could it be?
     “Brandon, are you a virgin?”  His eyes fly open to catch my gaze.  “What
makes you say that?”  He asks quietly.  All the confirmation I need.
     “All this time, I've only been thinking about my loss.  But...am I taking
your innocence, too?"
     "I'm hardly innocent."  He says sharply, and I jab him in the ribs.
 "Answer the question!"
     "..."
     Oh god, I really am.  
     "I'm-"
     "If you tell me that you're sorry that you're going to be my first I'm
going to hang you from the ceiling!"  He's not really mad, just annoyed.  
     "But-"
     "I can't imagine letting anyone else see that part of me, Lindsey.  It's
just you."
      Two long days, the last of which both of us slept through.  But we
already know each other.  Can already read each other.
    ...But have we also fallen in love with each other?
    "...Okay."  I finally whisper.  "Okay."  
    He touches my arm, staring at me the whole time, as I forget how to
breathe.  With a simple tug, he pulls me onto the bed next to him, and rolls
over, straddling my waist.
    "Brandon?"  I say meekly.  In response he presses a finger to my lips.  His
hand continues trailing up my arm, past my shoulder, to lie just below my
throat.  By now I'm sure that my cheeks are a bright red.
    "W-What are you-"
    His hand finds the zipper of his sweaterjacket and tugs down slowly,
parting the cloth to-
    "Wait!  I'm not...I-I'm not..."  He doesn't stop, pushing the fabric off of
my shoulders to reveal my flimsy bra.  "B-Brandon-"  
     His hand cups my chest gently, and I gasp as a white film of terror
overwhelms my mind.  "Stop!"
    In an instant, he takes his hand off me, and I snap back to my senses.
 He's staring at me with something like pity, carefully holding his hands to
his sides.
     "Three weeks."  He whispers.  I stare at him, dazed.  "Twenty one days to
make you comfortable with my touch, and I absolutely revolt you."  He turns
away and walks out of the room as a cold shock sinks over me.
    I know what he was trying to do, and I thought I was ready.  But I didn't
expect him to go so far!  
    Was that...a test?
    Brandon, you're so confusing...!  And I thought I could read you.  But
you're still a mystery, aren't you?
    I thoughtfully touch the spots he did, feeling the blaze of heat flare up
where his fingers traced lines.  
    ...I like it.
***** Reminiscing *****
  My body finds its way downstairs to the kitchen, where I lean back and slide
down a wall.
   Oh, Lindsey.
   I'm so sorry.  I didn't know.
   Oh, that's just an excuse.  Of course I knew!  We haven't even been together
for two days, and I expected her to be that comfortable around me!
    Stupid, stupid.  I've been too open recently.  I need to stop this.
   But I crave her attention.  It's been too long since I've talked, really
talked.  And I miss it, the comfortable atmosphere of friendship.  I'm happy
you're here with me now, though I wish it wasn't under these circumstances.  If
we had the opportunity to meet again, in the real world...would we have gotten
along?  Had we not been forced together, would this relationship exist?
     What relationship?  Lindsey doesn't really like me.  It's her body, and
her hormones that are attracted to me, not her mind and soul.  But its her
personality, her internal beauty that I'm attracted to, not her exterior
appearance, even if Lindsey is absolutely gorgeous.
    I can't close the floodgate of emotion that the brunette has broken open,
and I'd be ridiculous to try.  Because bottling up my feelings only leads to
disaster.  I flex my fingers, remembering the time I slapped the poor girl.
 She didn't deserve that at all.
    But she's forgiven me, hasn't she?  The moment that she realized that I was
in more pain than she was...
    I should've been the one comforting her, but I found myself reassured by
her, instead.  And when we talked and when things stopped, when conversations
or actions should've resulted in awkward silences, she grabbed my hand and
dragged me to a new topic.  When she decided that I was insistent on the fact
that she didn't deserve to be hit, she began talking about the subject of
escape.  That's her gift, isn't it?  To navigate through discussions with ease,
to lure others into seemingly pointless chats.  I remember how we talked about
goodness and evil.  What a random thing to bring up at the time!  Did she
intuitvely know how reflective I was?
    No, wait.  I brought that up, but she sparked the debate by asking what I
spent my time doing.  She was bored!  In such a dangerous situation!  The
nerve!
    But that's who she is.  A frolicky, vivacious girl.  She would not last
five minutes without something to do, so unlike me.
    ...At least, so unlike the person I used to be.  I've changed.  I've
stopped cursing so much.  My thoughts have been so much cleaner.  Why?  Is this
Lindsey's doing?
    "I don't know."
    The first step is admitting that I don't have the faintest clue of what is
happening.  This new person is the one Lindsey's come to know.
    I like the new person I am, too.
    "Hey."  A familiar figure, swathed in a bedsheet, walks over to my wall,
claiming the spot besides me.  I muster a weak smile.  "Hi, Lindsey."  
    The brunette joins me on the floor.  "Sorry about before."  She whispers,
and I smack her on the arm.  "I told you to stop being so apologetic for things
that aren't even your fault."
    "I just...wasn't ready."  Her head leans against my arm as she sighs.  "I
know.  And it was unfair to push you so far when you weren't at all prepared
for it.  I figured the shock of the situation would help, but I guess not."
    She looks up at me, eyelashes fluttering in the low light.  "I can handle
it now.  I just needed time to come to terms with what's happening."  I nod,
then freeze up.
    "What do you mean you can handle-"  Lindsey quickly pushes herself up and
moves in front of me.  "I mean I'm ready to try that again, Brandon."  She
kicks my legs open and drops into the newly created space, resting her back
against my chest.
    "Lin-"  She drops the bedsheet from her body, where it pools around her
legs.  Her hand finds her neck, where she hastily yanks the zipper of her
sweaterjacket down.  In another moment, it's been tossed off of her to land in
a heap on the floor.
    "Do something...!"  Startled into action, I finally start moving at her
request and drag a palm up her torso.  The angle is awkward and only serves to
push her closer into me.
     Her head turns away to bounce into my shoulder, cheeks flaming as my hand
finds her chest again, cupping her gently.  I can feel the heat of her skin as
her blush intensifies.
    "Nn..."  
    "What's it feel like?"  I ask, out of curiosity.
    "It's n-nice."  Lindsey stammers, as I brush her with a finger.  I’m
guessing the cloth covering her is blocking most of the tactile sensations.
    I want to be able to see her, and more specifically her reactions, but this
awkward angle prevents me from being able to see more than the gentle curve of
her breast.  Damn.
    ...Perv.
    “Down.”  The girl in my lap whispers, and I hesitate before obeying her, my
hand skittering along the hem of her panties.  Wow, I'm just...incredibly
nervous about this.  It's so weird that she's taking control, but I have to let
her decide the pace if I want her to be comfortable with this.
   "You have soft skin."  I mutter awkwardly, and she turns her head up to give
me a mortified look.  "T-Thanks?"  
   Lindsey squeaks and arches her back when my finger dips under the cloth to
brush against her virginity.  "W-Wait."  She gasps, and I immediately retract
my hand.  "N-Not yet."  
     Hot.  That's the impression I got from that ghost of a touch.  "Okay."  I
whisper.  The brunette slowly slips out of my grasp, turning to face me.  "It's
your turn."  Lindsey says.  I can't read the look on her face.  
    "What?"
    "To let me touch you."  Excitement...?
    "No, I don't need to-"  Lindsey leans forward unexpectedly and pushes
against my crotch with her palm, causing me to jerk away from her.  "You're
just as inexperienced as I am."  I flinch.
    I'm definitely not.
    "By the way, who's Morena?"  Lindsey asks, idly running her hand up and
down along my arm.  I wince at the name.
    Raw scars.  The pain is still definitely there.  Is my
situation...punishment?  For what I've done?  Perhaps.
     "Who told you that name?"
     "Christian mentioned it in passing.  Said that she wrote you a letter,
which, by the way, I have."  She reaches into the pocket of my sweaterjacket
and pulls out a plain white envelope, sealed with a gold star.  I relax
slightly at the sight of it.  She hasn't read it.
     "It's mine."
     "Is it a love letter?"  Lindsey asks, holding the envelope next to her
face.  "It certainly smells like one."  My back stiffens as the extremely
familiar scent wafts over to me.
     I've religiously avoided strawberries ever since her death, but I've never
forgotten...The sweet red berry...
     Her perfume was strawberry scented.  I remember now.  
     "Lindsey, give it to me."
     "Answer the question~"  Lindsey neatly darts out of the way as I lunge at
her.  "Lindsey!"
     "Yes or no?"  I try to tackle her but she leaps away in time.  Son of a-
     "...Please."  My voice cracks and Lindsey freezes, finally realizing that
something is off.  Without further protest, she drops the letter into my hand
then sits on the floor, worriedly staring at me.
    "Thank you."  I whisper.  The brunette nods.
    “...Morena’s my little sister.”
 
     “What’s wrong, Morena?”  The girl whips her head towards me as she drops
the pen.  “Nothing, why do you ask?”
     “You’re not as exuberant as usual.”  She’s sitting down on the bed while
idly playing with her hair.  So unusual.  Most of the time, she’s up and
moving.  She doesn’t do sports, and never will, but she’s definitely active and
fit.  Thinking quietly, like how I do, isn’t her forte.
    “I wanted to try it.  Just sitting down and letting the voice of the world
flow into my mind.”  I affectionately ruffle her hair as she shrieks in
laughter and shoves me away from her.  “Stop it!”  The brunette cries out
hysterically, doing her best to fix the errant bangs that I’ve created.
   “Hehe, sorry.”  In response, she punches me in the arm.
    I sit down next to her.  “So, what were you thinking about?”
   “...Just life, pretty much.”  I can’t help but notice that she skirts around
the question somewhat.
   “What about it?”  
   “...Love.”  
    “What about it?”  
    “Why does it exist?  Why does it have to appear as an emotion, as a social
status, even as a need, sometimes?  As something to fill the supposed hole in
your heart?  Why does it exist?  Is it just an excuse to have sex?”
    “And what have you concluded?”  Anyone else would’ve asked her why she was
thinking of such things, but by now I know Morena and have already realized
that she’s much more smarter and mature than she appears.
    “Nothing, yet.”  The girl rests her head on my shoulder.  “I’m not sure if
that means I’m not as smart as you, or if it means that the topic’s too big for
me.”  
    I laugh lightheartedly.  “Morena, all modesty aside, you and I both know
that you’re much smarter than me.”  It’s true.  Four years younger than me and
I’m the one asking her for homework help, not the other way around.  
    “That’s not really-”
    “Don’t underestimate yourself.”
    “I could say the same for you.”  Morena says huffily.  
    “I’m not underestimating myself.  I know exactly how capable I am.”
    “No, you don’t.”  She’s never this argumentative.  
    “Brandon, you haven’t figured it out, have you?”  She continues.
    “Love?  Nope.  Not a clue.”  I don’t get it, and I don’t think I ever
will.”
    “No.  Not that.  You.”
    “I haven’t...figured out myself?”  
    “You haven’t figured out how amazing you are.”   
    “...”
    “You really are.  But you keep convincing yourself you’re not.”
    "...Morena."
    "Brandon, you deserve better than you have."
    “H-Huh?”
    “You're always trying to solve the world alone.  It's hard work, isn't it?"
 The girl looks up at me.  "Take a break sometimes.  Let me help."    
    "W-What are you trying to say...?"
    "I'll show you."
    "Morena-"
 
     When I look up again, Lindsey's gone.  
 
***** Love *****
  "Morena's my little sister."
     Stupid.  So stupid.  
     I can tell that he's off in his own world again.  Probably thinking about
his little sister.
     His little sister...
     "Because all my family is dead."
     "He killed them."
     That's not a love letter.  That's a death message.
     Did you know, Morena?  Did you know that you were going to die?  Is that
why you wrote that?
     I quietly stand up and walk away.  
 
     Is this a closet?  I don’t know.  Small dark room.  Why am I even here?  I
just wanted to be alone.
     No.
     I WANT to be with Brandon.  But...
     It’s like every time I open my mouth around him I say something I
shouldn’t.  It’s not entirely my fault, I know.  I can’t be expected to read
his mind and know his secret past.  But...
     If I just keep hurting him then why am I even around him?
     I’m sorry.  But for now, at least, I’m going to let you be.  I don’t want
to...
     I don’t want to keep hurting you, because you don’t deserve that.  I...
     “You are a dork.  That’s good.  It’s you, and I like you.”
     Do you feel the same way I do?  The little butterflies in my stomach when
you touch me, or say my name...do you feel that?  I...
     What is love?
     Love...
     That short conversation before our peace was destroyed comes back to
mind...
 
     “Brandon?”  We’re staring at the sunset together, expecting Christian to
come in and ruin our tranquility.  
    Of course, that means we make ourselves as comfortable as possible.
 Brandon doesn’t mind when I rest my head down on his shoulder  Instead, he
wraps an arm around me and hugs me tight to him.  
    “Hm?”  
    “Um...”  What does he think?  He’s smart.  And I know he won’t hesitate to
tell me what he thinks, but is this...a question I should be asking him?  It’s
so...awkward...
    “What do you think about love?”
    “Romantic love?”  
    “Um, yeah.”
    “Hm...”  I stare at him curiously.
    “Why does it exist?  Why does it have to appear as an emotion, as a social
status, even as a need, sometimes?  As something to fill the supposed hole in
your heart?  Why does it exist?  Is it just an excuse to have sex?  I don’t
know, yet.  I’m still looking for the answer.  I think when I figure that
out...that’s when I’ll be able to properly appreciate it.  Right now, I’m not
sure.  I don’t know what I think about it yet.  I ask myself that question once
in a while, but nothing is ever conclusive.  But...if you want me to define
love...”
     “I think that love is learning to accept another person’s faults and
finding a way to work with them.  That’s all forms of love, whether it be
parental, sibling, or romantic love.  Accepting that they’re not perfect, but
liking them anyways.”  
     “What about romantic love?  How would you try to define it?”
     “Romantic love?  That’s simple.  It’s learning to accept another person’s
faults and loving them not only for the good inside them, but for their bad.
 To accept and embrace the things that make them who they are.”  
     “So...could you romantically love more than two people at once?”  
     “Absolutely.”
     “But doesn’t that end up hurting someone?  Or everyone?”  
     “Of course.”
     “But then...how is that love, if you’re just hurting someone in the end?”
     “Love has many facets.  You might be hurting them now, but chances are
they’ll find their true happiness in another person.  Then you’ve helped them
when it matters.”  Brandon squeezes me lightly.
     “But...”
     “Love is also when you care so deeply for another person that you’d rather
be hurt instead of them.  That you’d rather hold the pain of lying to the one
you love then revealing to them that you’re just not into them anymore.”
     “So you can love different people in different ways, then?”
     “Absolutely.”
     “But can you love the same person in different ways?”  He stops to think
about this.
     “I think, that under all its different forms, love bonds under a single
definition.  I’m not sure what it is, though.”  
     “You kind of make it sound like love is a god.”  He regards me with a
questioning look.  “It rules us all, doesn’t it?”
     “I guess.”
     “Love is the weirdest thing, isn’t it?  Sometimes people do the strangest
things for it.”  I think about Nick.  Was that love?  In a twisted, disgusting
way?  
      “What is lust, then?”  He glances at me.  “I’d say love for the body.
 It’s shallow.”  
      “So is sex shallow?”  
      “Depends on the reasons.”
     “What reasons are those?”
     “If you want to fu-”  I pinch him.  “-have sex with someone just for their
body, that’s just disgusting, especially if you want to take them by force.”  I
shudder.  “But if you want to have sex because it’s a natural progression from
true romantic love...”
     “Then it’s absolutely beautiful.”  He finishes, and I smile dreamily as I
fantasize about falling in love one day...with the perfect-
    “What?”
   “Huh?”
   “You were staring at me.”  I blush as I realize how close our faces are.
 “Um, sorry.”  
   “It’s fine.  May I?”  He picks up a lock of my hair as I nod.  A funny
feeling rushes through my gut as I realize that I’m letting him touch me.  
    Then why don’t I mind...at all?  His hand gently runs through my hair as
butterflies form in my stomach.  I...
   Am I...really...?
   “Brandon?”
   “Yeah?”
   “I just wanted to tell you...I-”
    “Brandon, you there?”  Christian interrupts our peace and the moment is
ruined forever.
 
    Do you love me?
    ...Do I love you?
    I don’t understand, Brandon.  What is love?  
   No, that’s not right.  What is the love that I feel for you?  It’s
undeniable that some sort of bond has formed between us.  It’d be impossible
not to notice the drastic change in our relationship in the short time we’ve
been here.  But...is it the love of friendship or the want of something
more...?  I don’t know yet, and I’m dying to find out.
    But yet...I’m still hurting you.  And...
    “You might be hurting them now, but chances are they’ll find their true
happiness in another person.  Then you’ve helped them when it matters.”  
     Will I help you if I leave you alone?  To let you find the person that you
will find, eventually?  
     I just want you to be happy.  I want you to escape and to find your love.
 I want you to live.  You never deserved to be put here.  You never asked to be
here.  So why were you forced here?  Why was life so cruel to you?
     “Lindsey?”  I can hear his voice down the hallway.  I want to call out to
him.   Brandon...
     If I just keep hurting him then why am I even around him?
    Will I help you if I leave you alone?  
    “...Lindsey?”  There’s an uncertain pause as he says my name.  I just curl
deeper into my corner of the closet I’ve taken refuge in.  His footsteps pass
by the entrance, then stop.  
    “I know you’re in here.”  How!?  What gave it away!?
    “Do you want to be alone for now?”  Yes.  No.  I don’t know.  Silence is my
guardian.
    “Okay.  See you soon.”  He walks off.
    I don’t like the silence.  I’ve never been a fan of the dark.  Yet both are
what surround me, right now.  I’m fighting for my solitude, and now I have it.
 So...what do I do with it?  I hate it.  It tears at my soul.  Why did I fight
for this?
    I’m hungry.  Now that I think of it, I haven’t actually eaten in days.  How
do you not notice something like that?  Well, I did sleep through most of it,
but still...
    Brandon would make me food, but I’m not talking to him right now.  I can’t.
 I can’t look at the pain on his face, pain that I cause him.  That’s too much
for me, and for him.  I don’t want to be hurting him.  I don’t want to hurt him
ever again.
   You never did eat with me, did you?  If I’m hungry now...what must it be
like for you?  Have you even noticed it?  When was the last time you’ve eaten?
 Are you hurting yourself?
   Why?  For what reason?  What do you gain from not eating?  Christian said
that you were sacrificing for me.  What is it that stops you from eating?  Are
you low on food?  No, I looked through the pantry myself.  We’re not going to
starve, though a trip to the store is in order.  Why haven’t you been eating?  
     What else are you sacrificing for me?  
     Stop hurting yourself for me.  I don’t deserve that kindness from you.
 Please...
     “Love is also when you care so deeply for another person that you’d rather
be hurt instead of them.”
     I love you.  
    “Romantic love?  That’s simple.  It’s learning to accept another person’s
faults and loving them not only for the good inside them, but for their bad.
 To accept and embrace the things that make them who they are.”  
    I’m not ready to think about this yet.  Is it because I’m scared of what I
will find?  I can no longer deny that I’m attracted to you.  But how deep does
this feeling run?  How much...?
    Just how much do I love you, Brandon?  How much would I sacrifice for you?
 How far would I go for you?  I don’t know, yet.
    ...Do you love me?
    Should I accept it, if it’s there?
     Am I...worthy?  Of being with someone like you?  You’re so ridiculously
generous and self-sacrificial, the traits I try so hard to exude.  I’m not good
at it...yet.  But I want to be.  To have gone through all you have and to still
be such an amazing, kind person...How can I possibly match that?  How do I be
as good as that?  
    Teach me.
    “Lindsey.”  Oh, Brandon.  What do I...
    “I’m coming in.”  I lunge forward and push the lock button on the doorknob
down just as it rattles.
    “...Unlock the door, Lindsey.”  I don’t.
    “Ugh.”  I hear a key pushed into the door and then light’s invading my
sanctuary.  
    “Sorry.”  Brandon hangs by the doorway, holding onto a wrapped package.  “I
just wanted to bring you this.”  He gives me the object he’s holding.
    “You haven’t eaten in a while, so I just wanted to make sure you got food.
 So, um, yeah.  I’m going now.”   He turns around to leave as I realize blankly
that I’m holding a sandwich.
     “...Make sure you eat, too, please.  Thank you.”  The words find their way
out of my mouth.  
     “Huh?  Oh, yeah.  Okay.”  He leaves, closing the door shut behind him.  
     It’s a long time before I can tear my eyes away from the place I last saw
him.
     ...I couldn’t help but notice the melancholy in his eyes as he turned
away.
***** Intensity *****
Chapter Notes
     This chapter earns its E rating, and will dive into
     some...uncomfortable subjects. Make sure you're ready.
  I don’t know what compelled me to make the sandwich.  One second I was
standing in front of the kitchen, and in the next I had a bread, ham, and
cheese stack in front of me.  It was weird.  I wonder if it’s the hunger
finally getting to me?  
     I should eat.  I really should.  That little blackout a day or two ago
hinted at the damage I was causing , but I had managed to convince myself that
the issue was simply emotional stress.  
     The imbalance in my system caused by four days without food...I think it’s
going to get to me soon, but for now I can ignore it.  The gnawing ache in my
stomach hurts, but it’s not the worst thing I’ve felt...
     Watching your sister die in your arms...
     There aren’t many things that top that.
     “Please be my first kiss.”  
     "W-What are you trying to say...?"
     "I'll show you."
     "Morena-"
     Her memories hurt.  The legacy she’s left behind...  
 
     “Hey, Brandon!”  Morena runs up to me as I get ready for school.
     “Huh?  Oh, hi.”
     “Look what I found yesterday!”  She holds up a small, brilliantly blue
crystal that shines even in the darkness of our shared room.  It’s not much
bigger than a pencil eraser and is shaped like a small cube with a sharp edge.
      “Oh, wow.  What is that?”
      “I searched it up, and it’s supposed to be a sapphire.”  She stares at it
in the palm of her hand.
      “How did you find it?”
      “It was just on the ground, by the playground.”
      “...You found a precious gem just lying in the dirt at school.”  
      “I guess, yeah.”
      “Do you think it’s real?”
      “Let’s find out.”  Morena drops it on the ground and picks up the
aluminum baseball bat she uses for training.  “W-Wait-”  
      She swings down.
      “W-Why would you-?”
     “Oh, it’s real all right.”  She picks it up where it lies, completely
unscathed.  “It was a good test.  A sapphire’s the third hardest mineral.  If
it had shattered then it wouldn’t have mattered, because it would have been
fake.”  
     “...Wow.”  I’m not even surprised that she would take the time to look
something like that up.  
    “Here.”  She stands up and walks to me, pressing the gemstone into my hand.
 “I want you to have it.”
    “Huh?  What?  Why?”  
    “To remind you of yourself.  And to teach you a lesson.  Look.”  She flips
the lightswitch on and bathes the room in white.  “There’s a small flaw in the
sapphire.”   Sure enough, there’s a tiny crack in the surface, probably where
she hit it, too.  “Even the toughest facade, when hit with a hard enough force,
will break.”
    “So that indifferent part of you?  Show it who’s boss.”
 
    I pick up the mineral and stare at the small crack.  
    Perhaps it’s possible to break free after all.
    “I went through your stuff while you were in the bathroom.”  
    Did Lindsey see this, I wonder?  What did she think about it?  Did she know
what it was?  
    "Lindsey, what are you doing to me?"  I whisper to myself.  
    The sandwich.  Why did I give it to her?   Why didn't I eat it?
    I just need to know.
    "Brandon."  Lindsey walks into our bedroom, unwrapped package in hand.
 "I'm not eating this without you."  
      "What?"
      "You heard me."  She puts a large napkin on the bed.  "Eat with me."
      "Lindsey, you're being ridiculous."
      "You going for days without anything for my sake is what's ridiculous."
 She's shaking.  "Stop.  Stop sacrificing your health for me!"
     "How did you-"
     "Did you really think I wouldn't notice your continued refusal to eat?
 Why?  What is it that stops you?  It's me, isn't it?  It's not Christian
forcing you, isn't it?  What am I doing?  Tell me and I'll stop!"
     "It's nothing big, I promise."
     "Tell me!"
     "Not right now, please."  Thoughts of Morena still buzz around in my head
but I silence them.  Morena is the past.  Lindsey is now.
     "Will you forget me so soon, love?"
      "I'm sorry for prying."  Lindsey whispers.  She turns to leave as I lunge
at her.
      "W-Wha-"
      "No.  Wait.  I'll eat with you."  I say, meeting her eyes.  "And then..."
      "Then, I owe you an explanation."  
 
      "I'm sorry for wasting your time, Brandon."  We're both sitting on the
bed, stuffing ourselves on ham and cheese sandwiches.
      "You're the only thing here that isn't a waste of my time."  Lindsey
looks at me through her eyelashes.  "Um...I don't know how to take that."
       "You're here now.  I keep living in my past."
       "Your parents?"  She asks haltingly, and I shake my head.  "No, not
them.  We were never close.  It's..."
     "Morena?"  I wince.  "Yeah, her.  I was close with her."  My little
sister.  And...
     "How close?"  I give her a long, calculating look.  
      "The answer depends on how much I can trust you."
      "That's something I can't answer, only affect.  You're the only one who
can answer that."  She whispers, and I give her a small smile.  "You're
learning, Lindsey."
     "We were very close.  Some..."  I stare into her sapphire eyes. They look
like that gemstone.  
     "Some would call us sinners."
 
     "Y-You...You don't mean-"
     "You know what I'm talking about, don't you?  We were lovers."  I close my
eyes and lean back.  Let's see just how far that compassion of yours goes,
Lindsey.  Will you-
     -be able to look at me now?  Now that you know my darkest secret?  With
those words, I have just shown you my heart.  Now...what will you do?
    "Brandon...that's terrible."  I flinch.  "It's terrible that you have to
live with that!  That the one you loved...was killed."  
     "...You're not disgusted?"
     "Why would I be?"  She pats my hand.  "Because I...do you even realize
what I'm talking about?"
     "Of course I do!  I'm not as innocent as you think I am!"  She says
heatedly.
     "Have you ever masturbated?"  I shoot at her.
      "Wha-"  A blush blossoms onto her cheeks.
      "Exactly."
      "Once."  She whispers, mortified.  "Just once.  I haven't...tried again,
but I have."
      "Huh."  I certainly hadn't expected her to answer, and I definitely
didn't expect her to say yes.  The thought of the girl across me...doing
that...
     "Anyways, yes.  I know what you're talking about, but let me ask you this,
anyways.  I asked you before, but your answer may change."
    "Are you a virgin, Brandon?"
    "Yes."  I say quietly.  She nods.  "Did you kiss Morena?"  
    "Yes."
    "A lot?"
    "Yes."
    “How, um...far, did you guys go?”  I smile slightly.  “Out of curiousity,
why do you want to know these things?”
    “I...I don’t know...”
    “I went down on her.  That’s the farthest we ever went.”  The girl blushes
again.  “O-Oh...”  An awkward silence.  I can’t help but notice her squeezing
her thighs together.  “Lindsey...are you-”
    “...Yes.”  She whispers, then:  “I’m sorry about Morena.”  I nod.   “It’s
fine...I’m getting over her death.  I won’t forget her, but I’ll do my best to
stop living in the past.”  
    “That’s...good.”  She murmurs.  
    “It’s a start.”  I whisper, leaning back against the wall.  
    “...Brandon?”  Lindsey asks, after a few minutes of silence.  I’ve noticed
her growing increasingly uncomfortable over the last few moments, fidgeting
with her sweaterjacket.
   “What’s up?”  
   “...Can you...Can you do me a favor, please?”  She moves closer to me,
sitting in front of me in a kneeling position.  
   “Um, okay.  What is it?”  
   “Y-You know what I’m talking about.”  She murmurs, red blossoming over her
cheeks.
   “I...don’t?”  And I really don't know what she's trying to say, which is why
her next words surprise me so much.
   “I...Brandon, you’ve experienced intimacy, haven’t you...So...”  She stares
at the ground.
   “Please teach me.”  Lindsey whispers, as I stare dumbstruck at her.  
 
    “Lindsey...”
    “Please, Brandon.”  I...Oh, Lindsey.  
    “O-Okay.  Um...”  It's been a while since I've been with a girl.
    “What do you want me to do?”  The brunette pales.  “I...I don’t know,
just...anything.  Something!”
    “Do you want me to kiss you?”  She shakes her head.  “I’m...not ready for
that yet.  Something about it is just...sacred, y’know?”  I nod.  “Okay.  What
do you...limitations.  How far do you want me to go?”  
    “Not sex.  Not yet.  Just...I don’t know, Brandon!  I don’t know what there
is to pick...”  
    Listing it would be too embarrassing, even for me.  Instead I just wrap my
hands around her legs and pull her to me, so that she’s situated on my lap.  
    “B-Brandon!”  I gently push her head aside so that I can suck on her neck.
 “Ahaha...T-That feels-”  My teeth scrape across her jugular.  “A-Ah!”  When I
pull back, there’s a beautiful hickey in the junction between her throat and
shoulder.  “Mine.”  I whisper, a little possessively, and she reddens further.
    “I-I...um...”  I brush her hair out of her face.  “Do you want me to keep
going?”  
    “...Please.” is all she says, shuddering as my hand slides down her body to
brush past her clothed crotch.  I drag the zipper of her sweaterjacket down and
push it off of her, sliding a bra strap down in the same movement.
     “W-Wait!”  I’m delighted to see that the blush of her cheeks extends to
her upper chest.  “Don’t take that off...not yet.  Not yet.”  
     “Okay.”
     “B-But...It doesn’t mean you can’t touch.  I-If you want...”  The girl
falls forward to bury her head into my shoulder as my palm finds her breast.
 “Nnn...”  
     “Y-You can...go u-under if yo-Ah!”  My hand invades her bra to touch her,
really touch her, for the first time.  
     “You really are sensitive.”  I whisper to the quivering girl as I brush
her areola.  “It’s n-not something I can help...!”  I couldn’t properly admire
the heat and feel of her skin with the cloth in the way, but now...
      “You’re so soft.”  I murmur, cupping her breast again as she arches her
back.  “So warm.”  
      “So alive.”
      “M-more...”  
      “Are you sure?”
      “Yes...”  I nod and push her off of me.  
      “W-What are you-”  A single shove spreads her face-up on the bed, and I
kneel between her legs, leaning down.
      “Hu-oh god!”  My tongue darts out to stab at her clothed womanhood,
tasting.  Sweet.  “You’re soaking wet, you know.”  ...t mind.  This heady
smell...the taste...There's no word for it, no way to explain it...but it's so
good...
      “S-Sorry...”  I’m tempted to break the “clothes on” rule just so I can
continue going down on her...Especially if she keeps tilting her head down to
give me that innocently blushing and dazed look...
      “Are you sure you’re ready, Lindsey?”
      “Y-Yes...”  
      "Alright."  My fingers slide under her panties to brush her dripping
slit.  She claps her hands to her mouth.
     "What's wrong?"  I ask quietly.  "D-Don't stop..."  The brunette whispers.
 I use my thumb to gently rub where I know her clit is and she jerksaway from
my touch, stifling a moan with her hands.
       "Lindsey."  I say, somewhat amused, "If you keep moving we're never
going to finish."  She sits up and moves so that her back is to the wall.  "S-
Sorry...It's just, so unfamiliar..."  I nod sympathetically.  "If you want me
to-"
      "No, keep going, please."  Her hands fist the bedsheets.  "I'm
just...nervous."  I scoot over to her and gently caress her arm.  “We can stop,
if you want.  Really.”
      “D-Do you want to touch me?”
      “...Yes.”  I admit.  
      “Then...why don’t you?”  
      “I don’t want you to feel forced into this.  I mean, well...you do have
to do this, but we have a little under three weeks.  This is a really big step.
 If you want to go slower, we can...The idea is to make you as comfortable as
you can be with the idea, but you don’t need to rush it.”  
      “B-But...
      “Lindsey, there’s still time.  We can wait.  It doesn’t all have to be
done in one day.”  
      “I...okay.  Okay.”  I smile sadly and hug her gently.   “I’m sorry you
have to go through this.  I really am."  
      "Don't blame yourself, please."  The girl hugs me back, "It's not your
fault.  You can't fix the past, only change the future.  So..."  She isn't just
talking about us, now.  "Look ahead, Brandon.  Live in the present."
      "I'll try." The present, huh?  
      "I really like you."  I whisper, and she pulls back to look at me.
      "I really like you, too."
 
***** Windup *****
 
     “Brandon?”  I whisper, spinning in a circle as I look for my friend.  He’s
not here.  A sinking feeling claws at my heart as I glance around.  I’m in some
sort of forest clearing, that’s all I know.  But whenever I try to focus on a
detail, say, the color of the sky, it blurs out and I have to look away, afraid
that I’m losing my sight.  It’s nighttime, and it’s very, very cold.  And
there’s a lake, the only object in the world with any clarity.
     ...I can’t see the bottom of it.  It must be deep, then, at least, I
shouldn’t be able to stand up in it.  Despite my instincts telling me to run, I
move closer to the water.  After all, what’s the harm in-
     Something pushes me, and I fall face-first into the water.  It’s
frigid...it must be under zero here!  And, worse - it's pulling me in, sucking
me under...it can't have been more than ten seconds and already I can't see the
surface!  What...what is happening!?  I desperately kick up...to no effect.  I
can already feel my ears popping...I can't breathe!  I can't think!
      The panic...I'm already out of oxygen.  I can't...
      "I got you!"  A man's voice yells, and in the next second, I'm forcefully
pulled out of the water into the arms of my savior, gasping for air.  "T-Thank
y-you!"  I stutter, my teeth chattering as the freezing embrace of the night
surrounds me.  The man notices, and in the next second a warm, comforting sheet
envelops me.  A blanket?  I shut my eyes to revel in the heat it provides, just
for a moment.
     When I open my eyes, the man is gone.
 
     Just a dream.  I think, slowly opening my eyes as they grow accustomed to
the light streaming in through the window.  Behind me, I can hear Brandon’s
quiet breathing.  Brandon.
     Last night’s memories rush back into my head, instantly spreading heat
across my body.  That's right.  I let him touch me.  No...I asked him to touch
me...
      But...it's okay.  I didn't mind.
      I liked it.  I asked him to keep going.  I should've been the one telling
him to stop, but he's the one who convinced me to take things slower...why?
 Why did he stop?  Am I not good enough?  What is it?  What gave him the
restraint to take his hand off me while touching...there?  
     Should I...ask?
     Something big has changed in our relationship.
     That's right.  Last night...
 
     "I'm tired, Lindsey.  Let's...go to sleep?"
     "Didn't we both just sleep for over a day?  How are you tired?"
      "You're not?  I thought of all the people, you'd be the most..."  His
fingers brush my hair as my cheeks pinken, remembering where his hand had been
just a few minutes ago.  He had gone to the bathroom to wash the evidence of
our time together away, leaving me frustrated.  A pang of want echoes through
my core.
      I'm still wet, and he must know that.  I can feel the warmth in my veins,
the sensation of his hands still resonating throughout my body.  I didn’t want
to stop...but he was right.  I’m not ready for that...yet.  
     But that doesn’t mean I can’t ache for it.
     “I'm, ah...no, I'm still fine."  I smile at the black-haired boy across
from me.  "Gonna use the bathroom, sec."  He gives me a curious look as I stand
up and run to the bathroom, grabbing his sweaterjacket along the way.  I lock
the door behind me.  
      Now I can...
 
      He didn't catch me, but...he knows.  
 
      "Are you okay, Lindsey?  You look a bit red."  I shake my head furiously,
wishing that he wouldn't question me so soon after I left the bathroom.  Right
after...
      "I-I'm okay!  Really!"  He shakes his head.  "Come here."  I hesitate
before walking to him.  A breeze tickles at the still-sensitive spot between my
legs.
      I abandoned my underwear in the bathroom.  It's too soaked to wear and
didn't cover much of anything, anyways.  I want to run to the sheet and wrap
myself in it, but Brandon's still sitting on it.
     "Give me your hand."  I show him my left hand.  "Lindsey."  He gives me a
knowing look, one that makes me feel like he's probing right at my core.  "Your
other hand."  
    "W-Why?"
    "Just do it."  Nervously, I place my hand in his and he brings it up to his
face, taking a deep breath.
      "I like your smell."  He says, smirking.
      "W-What?"
      "I like your smell."  That's when it dawns on me.
      "You should consider scented soap, though you'll probably need to scrub
really well, because you have a very distinct and heady smell.  I'm not sure
how to describe it, but it's definitely you."
      "Y-You...!"
      "Also, if you're just going to do that, you should feel free to ask me
for help."  He gives me a small smile.  "Good night."  
       "......."
       "Oh, don't be stubborn.  Come over here.”
       "W-Why?"  He sighs deeply.  "Were you planning on sleeping on the floor
again?"  He pats the sheet next to him.  "Up you go."  
       "O-Oh."  I say, flushing.  I walk over to him, then climb in, mindful of
the fact that only the sweaterjacket protects my body.  I'm careful to climb in
while being certain that the hem is not riding up my legs.
       "Good night."  I mumble, pressing my face into the pillow, acutely aware
of the fact that only a mere inch separates us and trying to hide the growing
blush on my face as his hand pats my head.
      "Good night, Lindsey."  He whispers, then he turns over to give me the
space I both want and hate.
 
     "Ohayoo."  I hear Brandon whisper, as he curls his body away from me.  It
doesn't take a genius to guess why.
      "I didn't know you spoke Japanese."  I turn towards him, a small smile
creeping on my face as I watch him further entangle himself with the sheet.
     "A bit of an overstatement.  I only know a few words, and I barely
remember what they mean."
     "What else can you do?"  I muse out loud, and he rolls his eyes.  "I'm not
a circus animal, silly girl."
     "So you're the clown, then?"  I say, grinning, and he bats at my face
lightly.  "Hey, it's gone."  He murmurs, tracing my cheek lightly.  "What is?"
      "Your bruise from...um, wow.  When was it?"
      "Wednesday, I think.  It's been five days since then, so it's Sunday
now."  My eyes grow misty as I remember the family I've left behind.  No...now
is not the time to cry.  Brandon doesn't even have a family, anymore...I don't
deserve to feel sad, not around him.
      "Don't do that."  He cups my cheek and forces me to look directly at him.
 "You don't need to hide your emotions around me, Lindsey.  Not anymore."  I
remember his late-night confession to me.
      "We were lovers."  I guess that should revolt me.  I mean, doing things
like that with your younger sister...?  That's so...wrong.
      But, it depends, doesn't it?  Who initiated it?  Why?  What kind of
person was she like?  Morena, huh?  Did you make Brandon happy?  Did you help
turn him into the person he is today, the selfless, empathetic person he is?
 If you did...if you made him happier, then I can not possibly judge you.
      I snap back to the present when he hugs me tightly.  "I'm kind of happy
you're here.  I mean, I'd rather you not be, but I can't imagine anyone else.
 So, um, thank you."
       "It's not so bad here.  Thanks to you, anyways.  I mean, I don't want to
be here, but it could be so much worse...and it isn't.  So I'm grateful for
that.  Thank you."  I pat his hand and he musters a tired smile.  
      I want to tell him that everything is okay, that he doesn't know what
he's done for me, that his smile means the world to me.  But I don't know how
to put it into words, so I say nothing.
      ...And it's okay.
 
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