Summary: She's living in a world of sex, drugs, depression, self harm, and more just trying to get by. There's only one person who can save her from this life...and from herself. Can he? Loe.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

I'm standing alone tonight on the corner of creepiness and nowhere. If it weren't for the pretty orange and brown leaves on the trees rustling I wouldn't have noticed it was chilly outside; I'm numb to all feeling. I sigh. I don't know how long I've been standing here, but it feels like forever.

I take a drag of my cigarette and flick the glowing embers to the concrete beneath my feet. I really do smoke too much; my mouth is an ashtray, a cancer trip waiting to happen. It makes me wonder if someone was to kiss me, deep and passionate not sloppy and rough like he always does, would they catch the awful sickness. No, that can't happen…can it?

My thoughts are interrupted by the screeching of tires hitting cement. A red, beautiful mustang pulled up next to me. The driver's tinted window rolled down slowly. Ugh. I really do hate seeing him.

"My, my, my…someone's looking very hot tonight," he says. I watch his eyes roam my body. I know what he's thinking. He disgusts me.

"Hello to you too Blake," I mutter as I walk to the passengers side of his car and get in. As soon as I shut the car door, I'm drowned in his sickeningly sweet scent and the lights instantly burn my eyes for I had been standing out in the dark for at least an hour and a half. I get a better look at him though. His brown, messy hair; his bright blue eyes; he's wearing a black sleeveless shirt that's way too tight on his muscles to stand, and red basketball shorts. I shiver. How could someone so disgusting be so gorgeous?

He must have noticed my unwanted twitch and my staring because he had a grin; THE grin. Any part of me that was turned on was now turned off. My stomach lurched. "Ready," he asks me in an almost whisper. I silently nod. What else could I say?

We drove off into the night. I would've liked nothing more than for it to remain silent, but nothing with Blake Goodman can ever be quiet, and I mean nothing. Gag. He is the first to speak. "Are you ready for tonight's activities? I think you'll really like them." I know he has his world famous smile plastered on his face, the smile 99.9 of girls would die for, and I'm not even looking at him.

"Mhm," is my only answer, I don't move my lips or anything. He senses my attitude towards him.

"Someone's snippy, what's your beef?" He asks me. He's such the gentleman, hah. I roll my eyes in the darkness. "Nothing." We both know that's a lie, I think he somehow knows it better than I do, and that scares me. He removes one hand from the steering wheel and places the other on my thigh, high up on my thigh. I try my hardest not to shudder, and I fail miserably. As much as I despise the man sitting next to me, his touch drives me wild. And he knows it. I can basically feel his smile widen.

The rest of the car ride went the same; pointless small talk while he gently ran his fingers up and down my leg. I can't say it enough; I hate what he can do to me. We finally reached our destination, a small motel in the outskirts of Malibu somewhere, room 23. Much to my demise, my nose wrinkled in disappointment; hadn't he hinted something would be different tonight? Looked like the same old-same old to me…

He unlocked the door to the cheap motel room and held the door open for me, so I entered and he followed right behind me. He threw a black bag he'd been carrying down onto the small table in the corner as I lit a cigarette.

"Smoking's bad for you Truscott," he said, flashing his perfect teeth. I glared at him, "Hypocrite." He laughed his perfect laugh. I tried my best to ignore how perfect he was, and blew a perfect smoke ring, hah, that made me smile.

"What?" he asked me, noticing my grin. I shrugged, "nothing." He frowned and said, "Why aren't you talkative tonight babe?" I hate when he calls me babe, like I mean something to him. I shrugged again, and took another drag of my cig.

He pulled it out of my mouth and placed a kiss on my lips. "Well, whatever it is, I'm sure I can fix it." Try make it worse, maybe he could fix it for a half hour at most, but as soon as we step out of this crappy motel room my life will be worse; even more worse than it already is, and it happens every time.

I put the stick back into my mouth and plop myself down on the single bed, waiting. I hate to admit it, but as soon as he kissed me, something snapped. I'm sitting here on the bed, almost unable to control how bad I want him to touch me all over, but the cigarette's helping with that. He knows; he can sense my lust for him. He loves it.

I absentmindedly open my legs a little, and my short little skirt can no longer cover what's behind it. I'm not wearing any kind of underwear-his personal request. I watch his eyes travel down to the opening between my legs and he smirks. I take a particularly long drag of my cigarette this time; it's getting even harder to control it.

He turns his back to me and starts pulling off his tight, sleeveless shirt; making every muscle he has in his upper body flex as he does so. I bite my lip, and I know the cigarette won't do any good anymore. He turns to me, revealing his perfectly toned abs which my skin would be touching so soon. He smiles at my gaze, and takes one small step towards me. Teasing me is one of his favorite things to do.

"Your turn," he whispers to me, barely audible. Any scream of protest inside me was ignored by the terribly powerful lust I have for this boy, so I obey him; like a dog obeys his master. I'm so damn pathetic.

I grab the ashtray on the nightstand and quickly put my cigarette out. Then I stood up and pulled off my extremely low cut top I was wearing and threw it. I don't know where it went, but I don't care right now. I hungrily watch his eyes once again scan my shirtless body. "Take off your bra sweetie," he demands. I love hearing the lust in his voice; it makes me feel a whole 2 better knowing I can do to him what he can do to me. But I don't kill him inside, like he does to me…

That doesn't matter either right now, it will later but not now. I quickly pull the straps of my bra down and unhook it. I'm standing before him now, my top half completely naked, and my bottom half barely protected by the lonely, skimpy skirt. He wants it off, and I know its next, but I want him to work for it.

He read my mind or something because he says, "Want me to go next?" God, I hate how he can do that. I swallow and nod, mentally trying to prepare myself for the next part of him; failed. I watch him as he ever-so-slowly pulls down his red basketball shorts, leaving him completely naked when they finally were on the floor. I'm about to lose every single ounce of control in my body.

Somehow he ends up right in front of me, I don't know how or when it happened, but all I know is that he's there, and I wouldn't have it any other way. He locks his thumbs underneath the hem of my skirt and slowly pulls it down. The skin-on-skin contact we have right now, no matter how little it is, makes me violently shiver, which makes his perfect smile appear again. Fuck.

He stops tugging down my skirt when there's only a little more way to go before I'm totally exposed. "Do you want me Lilly?" he whispers, his tone is calm. I almost scream. "That's a fucking dumb question," I manage to breathe out, although it was very difficult. I felt his hands leave the surface of my body completely, which caused my eyes to snap open. "You could say it nicely Lillian," he whispered to me with a smile. Fucking asshole. "Y-yes, I want you, badly," I answered, it sounded more like begging though. I mentally kicked myself as I heard the words leave my mouth as if programmed to respond to him like that, I am so pathetic.

"That's all you had to say," he said and I felt his hands return to me, leaving a burning trail everywhere they touched. He stopped again, but kept his hands on me. "Still cutting your wrists?" he asks me. I thought I heard concern line his voice, but realized it was just my inability to concentrate. "Obviously," I spat out, I did not want to talk about this especially with him, especially right now. I felt him trace the scars and scabs with his fingertips. "Do I still do this to you?" I scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself, it's not all you." He leans down and kisses the wounds on my arms, not another word was said about it, and his hands returned to my waist.

Not long after, I was completely naked with him and he was on top of me, and he had his way with me. I hate enjoying every second of our "activities".

XxXx

I'm sitting on the bed with my bra and my skirt on, another cigarette lit and stuck in between my lips. My hairs a total mess and I'm looking around the room trying to find where my shirt ended up. He's putting his shorts back on and finishing packing all his things back into the black bag. He's keeping his shirt off, but it doesn't matter to me anymore because I'm back to hating his guts again. He comes up to me and hands me my shirt. I nod a thank you to him and pull it over my head. "Ready to go?" he asks as he slings the bag over his shirtless shoulder. I respond by getting up and following him out the door.

He shuts it behind him, and as soon as I can smell the fresh air, my body goes numb again and I'm hit with a wave of depression. I told you, as soon as I step out of the motel I feel like nothing again. Drags of my cigarette will have to hold me over, until I can reach my savior. I'm beginning to count down the minutes until I get home. We walk silently to the car and he held my door open for me before getting in himself. Silence ends as soon as the engine starts however.

Another pointless car ride back home, well to the street corner I've become so familiar with. It's only 20 minutes away from my house and he figures if I can walk to it I can walk home from it, regardless if its- I glance at the red numbers on his dashboard- 1:30 in the morning.

We pull up to the deserted corner and I let myself out, but not before I get it. He leans over, places a small kiss on my cheek, "350 tonight Truscott." I take the money and slam the door behind me, walking away. I don't look back, half because I can't stand to look at that man, half because I have tears streaming down my cheeks. I hear him drive away.

I hate Blake Goodman. I hate having to walk home. I hate being numb. I hate sobbing my insides out. But most of all, I hate living in this situation.

You can find out what's going on in Lilly's life and more about everything that just happened if you review like good little readers! (: