The next day was hellish. I took Demon on his walk late in the afternoon when I knew people would be in school. The last thing I needed was some accidental run in with a classmate, especially when I looked like hell. I hadn't showered in a couple of days now, and I was starting to feel it. My hair was slicking to my forehead, greasy clumps of it forming close to my scalp. Dark bags were beginning to appear under my eyes from my few hours of sleep, and of course I had a slight hangover from the night before, exasperated by my poor eating habits. But I didn't care, waking up this morning without the warming glow of obliviousness alcohol had granted me the night before brought back all my problems tenfold. My head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, hindering my thought process, and I found myself in a frustrating fuzzy bubble, the same memories running over and over again in my head.

Deborah's snarky voice going over the intercom kept repeating itself on a loop. I gritted my teeth, remembering how cold and un-Deborah she had sounded. The worst part was that that voice fit her better than the bubbly, girly-girl voice she used around me. I snorted, angry with myself for never seeing that side of her sooner. Angry that it took irritating, nosy Lynn to finally see it. I sighed, thinking of Lynn. I liked her well enough, although her habit of injecting herself into my personal life really got on my nerves. I liked my solitude, and I liked my privacy. That was part of the reason Lysander and I got along so well; are brains were wired the same way.

I shifted Demon's leash to my left hand, freeing my right so I could dig around in my pocket for my cigarettes. I opened the pack, and saw that I only had a couple left. I cursed under my breath, stashing it back into my pocket for later. I'd need to stretch these out.

Being legally independent had its charms. I liked not having to ask for permission to do anything, or worry about parents looking over my shoulder for every choice I made. Being independent and underage however…I'd be eighteen in a couple of months, but until then, I still relied on my contacts. I had a couple of people I could call to pick up the stuff I needed ID for. Tommy, he was my go to for cigarettes and the occasional bag of weed. But he was away visiting family, and wouldn't be back until later tomorrow. I'd send him a text today anyway, hopefully he could drop a couple of packs off on his way through. Hell, maybe I'd even ask him to roll me a couple of joints while he was at it.

Demon and I were rounding the corner to my house, when I noticed a flashy car idling outside my driveway. I paused, irritated by whoever was inside. I didn't like people snooping around where they weren't wanted, and this invasion of privacy, however small it might be in retrospect, was ticking me off. There were plenty of other places to park or pull over on my street, why did it have to be my house? I froze mid-step when the passenger door opened, and recognized the occupant with sinking realization.

It was Deborah. She was holding onto a cardboard tray where two paper cups sat, and I could see the steam rising from them. The delicious smell of coffee drifted towards me, and my mouth watered. She knew my vices well.

"Oh, Kitten! There you are!" Her heels were clacking towards me, and they snapped me out of my surprised stupor.

"Don't call me that," I ground out, heading turning towards my front door. I could still hear her clacking up behind me, and I found I was really getting irritated at the sound.

"Wait! I wanted to talk to you," her usually girly voice, her masked voice I thought, was calling after me, undeterred by my angry response. I had a hand on the door knob when she finally caught up to me, a hand grabbing my forearm firmly.

I swung around, acidic bile rising in my throat at her touch. My insides were swimming with rage, and guilt. I found that I still had feelings for her in that touch, as despised as they were. And I hated myself for ever feeling anything for her.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" I yelled, and Demon growled menacingly at my side. Deborah looked shocked for a moment, her eyes widening at my outburst. I hope I scared her, maybe she'd forget about whatever stupid thing she wanted to talk to me about, pack up in her shiny fucking car, and get out of my life. For good.

But her surprise vanished from her face in seconds, her cool, seductive mask up in its place. She smiled at me, fake red lips peeling back over her too-white teeth. How did I ever not see it before? Wordlessly, she handed one of the cups over to me. "A peace offering," she said sweetly, her own cup in hand. I glowered at her, but took a sip from the cup she had given me anyway. It tasted far too good, and I found myself chugging back several large swallows, the roof of my mouth burning pleasantly, before I lowered it again. She smiled, leaning against the railing of my porch, taking a small sip from her own coffee before continuing

"I wanted to talk to you about something…personal. Is it alright if I come in?" She batted her black lined eyes at me, something I once would have found alluring. Now it just made me sick to my stomach.

I sighed heavily through my nose, trying hard to quell the shaking rage building within me. The last thing I needed was an assault charge on my record. Lord knows this girl would have any judge wrapped around her little finger. I took a few more swallows from my cup, enjoying the warmth as it settled in my stomach. But she was watching me, a coy smile playing on her lips.

"What do you want?" I snapped, glaring at her. She puckered her lips, tilting her head to the side in playful but obviously calculated pose.

"I'm only going to be in town for a few more days," she said, coating her words with sugar. I shuddered, already getting the idea of where this conversation was headed. "I'd hate to leave you on such a sour note. I was hoping maybe we could…have some fun before we parted ways."

I felt sick to my stomach. She wanted sex?! I barked out a laugh, but the sound came out harsh and edgy. I turned back to my door, digging the key out of my pocket to unlock it.

"No. Fucking. Way." I said, swinging my door open, escape opening up before me. But she followed me in anyway, her cheap perfume swirling up my nose. I found it repulsive, and I gagged slightly at its cloying smell. I backed away, trying to put some distance between myself and her.

"Oh, really? It's too bad you feel that way…" she was walking past me, invading my refuge, her hips swinging in an exaggerated way that I once found appealing. I hated myself for ever falling for this act. She paused, looking back over her shoulder at me, seduction written on every feature. "I got them pierced, you know."

I froze. Damn her.

In our brief but passionate relationship, she and I had explored our sexuality freely. I knew all her little kinks, how she liked to be bound up or shoved against a wall. How she liked being dominated, restrained, taken roughly. I of course had always been more than willing to indulge her, being a natural dominating partner myself. But she knew about my kinks, too. She knew my thing for body piercing, specifically nipples. And now here she was, taunting me with one of my biggest turn ons. And I hated myself more, because she was starting to weaken my defenses. I was actually starting to consider taking her up on her offer. I was pathetic.

She took my silence as a victory on her part, because she brushed past me, a hand grazing my shoulder, to shut my open door. I heard the lock click, and I felt my pulse quicken.

"Before we begin," she said, her hands going to the zipper of her tight corset styled top. Its sound was amplified in my quiet house, and I was beginning to feel heat coiling in my gut. Not a good sign."I want to lay some rules down. This isn't about anything but sex, understand? I don't want to have a conversation about feelings or where this leaves us afterwards, alright?" She was topless now, a small strapless bra revealing her ample cleavage, but hiding her enough to draw me in further. I could make out tiny indents where her nipples would be, and I swallowed thickly, trying to imagine what was hidden there. She actually got them pierced.

I could feel myself getting hard now, almost against my will. My mind was racing, trying to figure out how I had let myself get into this situation. More importantly, why I still wasn't leaving it, why I was still letting her stay in my house. But my body was reacting to her, and it was taking over control of my thinking process. My mouth was dry as she started peeling away her tight, faux leather pants, a racy red thong inching itself into my vision. She sauntered to my couch, straddling the armrest with her long, too-thin legs. Then she moved her arms behind her back, her elbows bowing out like clumsy wings as she began unhooking her bra. I was speechless, only able to watch as that small piece of fabric was also pulled away. And then I saw them. A pair of barbell piercings greeted me, and I knew at that point that escape was no longer possible. She had me. I pushed my self-loathing aside though, stepping closer to her, my desire now in complete control over my body. She smiled at me, a wicked edge to it now that she knew she had won.

"That's right, Kitten. Come here." She held her arms up to me, and I found myself within them, felt her hands snaking into my greasy hair as I bent towards her breasts. She sighed when my tongue crept out to feel the cool metal, but inside I was crying out. I was messed up. Something was desperately wrong with me.

As her hands moved down my shoulders and made their way to my straining fly, I thought of Lysander, and felt guilty. I'm sorry. But I was too far gone now. I felt disgusted with myself as I heard the condom wrapper opening, felt her uncaring hands roll it down my incomprehensively hard erection. When she angled her hips and I started to slide up into her, I felt completely detached from my body, like I was watching these two bodies moving together. I felt sick to my stomach the entire time.