A/N: Please do not expect an update more than once a week. Unlike when I first started writing, I can not access a computer more than once a week due to my house burning down. Tuesdays are the only day's I am able to use a computer, so I will try my hardest to give you an update every Tuesday. Reviews give me inspiration for further chapters, so please pile them up! Warning this is VERY explicit in my opinion. If you do not have something nice to say in your review, do not flame. You may post it if you are at least polite. Thank you very much.

It had been an abnormally long day. Marshall was no where to be seen, though a call from him earlier this morning placed him at his house apparently sick. Here I was thinking he didn't get sick. Because the bastard decided to take a sick day on a day when a mountain load of paperwork came in, I had been stuck inside working on the said paperwork all day, my only amusement being the occasional wandering spitball that always somehow landed on Eleanor's chest. However, the bigger puzzle was that she didn't notice until Stan pointed them out to her, with a stern look in my direction. I, however, have no clue where they came from. I had been busy signing paperwork with my pen with a spitball straw attached. No clue whatsoever.

My first stop after leaving the office was my place. I needed my overnight bag so I would be able to take care of Marshall. It was the thing we did. I'd take care of him, he would take care of me. I would never tell anyone, but the main reason I didn't mind taking care of him was because, after all, I needed to be positive he wouldn't leave me, even though I know damn well he won't back out on a promise.

I pulled up to his house. It was actually quite nice in a neighborhood like this. The majority of the homes were the same old boring trailers, but Marshall's was so different. First off, his house wasn't a trailer. It was a small home and to the normal passerby, his yard was littered with a bunch of crap. I believed it was a bunch of crap but I also believed that it was uniquely designed by said man. He always changed something everyday, just like the damn Simpsons as they change at least one thing in the theme song each episode. When we lived back in New Jersey, it was Brandi's and my favorite pastime guessing what was changed.

I skillfully weaved through the crap, easily noticing the spear lying next to a haystack that hadn't been there the day before. Upon reaching the door, I knocked and let myself in. He had been distant for the past few days and him now being sick would explain that. I grew confused though when I didn't see him on the couch. He must be pretty sick or getting something to eat. I set my stuff down next to the couch and made my way to the kitchen. I popped my head in, but he wasn't there.

"Marshall?" I called out. His car was definitely outside, so he was here, but where?

His head popped out from the bedroom door, "Hello, Mary."

"So what's ailing you today, Mister?" I joked as I walked down the hallway towards him. I stopped suddenly when I got within a yard from him. There was a fire in his eyes, more specifically, two separate fires burning together. A deadly combination I have never seen before. Anger and lust. It shocked me visibly, mentally, and emotionally. What the fuck was going on?

"Marshall?" I asked cautiously.

He shivered and moved closer to me. I backed up, only to hit the wall. Something was up, and I'm not just talking about what was in his pants. I'm talking something is wrong. Definitely wrong.

Before I could react, my wrists were pinned under his, his body grating against me. He shifted my wrists so they were over my head and he could hold them in one hand. He used his now free hand to take a hold of my hair. I couldn't move. I was completely trapped. Oh god, what the hell was he doing?

"Marshall, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. My voice sounded so weak and pitiful.

His mouth came slowly towards my ear, kissing the spot just before it before whispering softly, "Showing you just what you do to me on a daily, hourly, minutely, and secondly basis."

His lips crushed mine, making it impossible to speak, not that I could anyway. This was the guy I had only just begun to realize I loved. This was not the way I would have thought he would have expressed it. This was wrong! Something is wrong with him to be acting this way. I struggled against him to the best of my ability, but it only angered him.

"No, no Mary," Marshall sneered. "You've pushed me for too long. This is my turn."

Oh shit. This was turning worse. His hand that had been in my hair fell down to my shirt, which had unfortunately been a button up shirt. He swiftly, skillfully undid the buttons with his one hand and proceeded in unhooking my bra in the same manner. I shivered in fear. This was damn near that same fucking night in that hellhole of a basement, and now I'm living a new nightmare. A nightmare in which Marshall has turned into that fucking raping monster.

His hands groped my breasts, twisting, squeezing, never stopping, despite my protests. God he was never stopping.

The tears. God, the tears were falling down my face so hard. Where was the Marshall that would comfort me? Where was the Marshall that would tell me it was okay and that he would never leave? His hand went back into my hair, presumably to stop me from headbutting him while he did something else. I closed my eyes as his head lowered to suck one of the breasts. I hissed in pain as he bit down particularly hard. His hand squeezed my hair more roughly, silently telling me to be quiet.

I wanted to wake up. This had to be a horrific nightmare. Tell me I'm sleeping, that I'm dreaming. Please, please, please.

I was so far into the back of my mind trying to forget this was happening, that I didn't realize that I was on Marshall's bed. My hands were still tied, but this time with zip ties. My shirt and bra were completely off now, and his hands were pulling my pants and panties down, as the button and the zipper were already dealt with. I watched in horror when they finally gave way to his tugging and enabled him access to what had been hidden to him. I tried to hide from him, but he was quick, as he grasped both of my legs and forced them open. His pants were already gone. He forced himself into me, and I screamed in agony as the flesh barely allowed him through. After that first plunge, he was slow for a minute. My scream quickly turned into whimpers. My eyes closed again. My own best friend, my only best friend, was raping me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

He began to thrust harder and harder, his breathing matching heavily.

"Mare," his voice growled his pet name for me. "Open your eyes. I want you to say my name."

I opened them and screamed as one of his hands twisted my nipple.

"Say my name" he growled again as another but softer twist threatened another hard one.

I swallowed and whispered softly, "Marshall."

"I can't hear you." He twisted.

"Marshall!" I screamed again in agony. I wanted this to stop. I needed this to stop.

Apparently, him hearing me say his name spurred him on, thrusting him harder and harder inside of me. It wouldn't be much longer, I told myself. This would finally be over soon. He gasped as he finally came, landing heavily on me as the last thrusts ended.

"I fucking love you Mary Shannon. I hope you know that."

I couldn't stop the tears that followed.

A/N: I promise there is an explanation for this, and will come soon. Next update comes next tuesday!