Let's see what happens next! Thank you for reviewing, berkbar740, Ali6132 and queenoftrouble (2).

My second month in juvie passed in much the same way as the first, except for one thing. As I grew tolerant of the beatings, Mal began to decrease the times he'd do that. But there was a trade-off. That first week, when he made me sit on his lap while he kissed me was the tip of the iceberg. Before he decreased the beatings, he spent other days letting his lips and/or tongue explore every inch of my face, ears and neck. He especially liked my earlobes, positively sucking on them, sometimes biting.

I didn't want to like any of it. Sometimes, I truly did hate it. The first time he tried to French kiss me by licking my lips while he kissed me, trying to poke his tongue between them, I instinctively pulled away.

I couldn't do that again, because he whispered to me "Fighting back again, doll face? Don't forget that you're just my plaything. I want to play with you, and if you don't comply, I'll stop playing nice."

So when Mal tried to French kiss me again, I let him. And again, that first time at least, I hated it.

But what worried me was that I didn't always hate it. Some of the things that Mal did made me feel really good, and although he did have a tendency to be unecessarily forceful, I found I didn't mind.

After the second week of the month, Mal only hurt me once, and unlike the last few times, when he'd made me stand there in my bra and panties and let him attack everything else, he only wanted me to take my top off.

Then, the next day, he pushed me onto the floor on my back, and whispered "T-shirt off. Now." I took it off, and Mal straddled me, sitting on my upper legs and admiring my bruised stomach.

"You have no idea how much I want to do that to you again." Mal whispered. "I want to torture you so much. I want you to beg me to stop." He paused. "But there's so many other things I want to do more."

He leant his upper body down, almost lying on top of me. His weight pressed down on my bruises, and I let out a squeal of pain.

"Still a little bit sensitive, huh?" Mal whispered, now positioned so it was directly into my ear. "That's good. Accept the sensations...I want to know what you feel."

He ran his hands down my sides, and I shivered involuntarily. I wasn't sure if I liked it or not. But it didn't matter – it made me feel excited and tingly.

That month changed everything for me. I even felt different – like I wasn't just one of the crowd any more. I felt special, half in a good way, half in the worst way. Like I was what the internet called "cursed with awesome". Mal had picked me out, out of all the people in juvie. He'd chosen to test me, and liked what he saw. And as a result, he tortured me physically for weeks, telling me it was to make the pain feel good, and it worked.

In the middle of the month, I stubbed my toe when Scarlett had accidentally left one of her many books on the floor of the cell and I tripped, yet I felt nothing but a surge of energy. It was literally a struggle not to pick at my toe when it scabbed over. I kept telling myself how sick and disturbing it was to want to be hurt, but the sensation didn't become any less pleasurable. Near the end of the month, Mal did one of the regular beatings, promising it would be the last time, and I had to hold back from asking him to continue when he was done.

The other change was that the beatings were replaced with makeout sessions. Mal made it clear that it was a replacement, because he'd tell me that the only reason he did it more was because there were things he wanted to do to me that didn't involve physical pain. He never went too far – ie: I'd never taken off more than my T-shirt, although that didn't stop him touching me over the clothes. He did hurt me at times, but not intentionally – he would just be too forceful, and, at times, I scared myself by half-enjoying it. Often, he'd tell me in detail how much he wanted to cause me pain, but he would add every time that what he was doing was more fun.

I didn't need to be told that it was meant to be a secret. However, I knew that like most of the things Mal did, these secrets were too dangerous to be kept. A few times, Duncan let me tell him how scared I was, although he was pretty clear that things weren't going to get any better for me. But after I mentioned the words "make-out" and "kiss", he wouldn't let me get any further.

"That's way too weird for me to listen to, sister. You're on your own for that, as far as I'm concerned."

I wasn't offended. I counted Duncan as a friend, but he was still a guy, and no guy wanted to hear that kind of thing from a girl's perspective. Besides that, there was nothing he was going to do about it. If it had been someone else, I would've done the smart thing and just stayed out of Mal's way, too.

Scarlett, on the other hand, actually wanted to hear what I had to say. She was still doing that psychological study thing and was, in my opinion, unnaturally obsessed.

I did hear the different voice from Mal, again, but only once. He'd been pinning me to the ground, having made me close my eyes and whispering to me to tell him whenever I felt a sensation from his touches. It was at the end of the third week of the month and he'd just started pressing and rubbing below my waist, and as much as I hated to admit it, it felt really good.

Suddenly, I felt him stop, and stand up, and I heard him gasp. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Are you all right?"

"What have I done?" I heard that different voice whisper. I opened my eyes, and stood up, seeing Mal's hair had gone back up, and I could see both of his eyes, devoid of their shadows. The boy faced me, and he spoke again in that voice. "Bailey, keep away from Ma..I mean, stay away from me. I'm dangerous!"

I rolled my eyes. "I know that much." But then I looked at him again. I paused. "You're not Mal all the time, are you?"

"I'm not Mal right now." the boy said. "I'm..." but he didn't finish. The dark shadows faded in, and the lock of hair fell over one eye. Mal was back.

"Stupid...ruining my..." I didn't hear everything he said, but those were some of the words he muttered. He looked back at me. "Back on the ground, doll face. I wasn't finished with you."

"Will you at least tell me what was going on there?" I ventured. "Who was I speaking to just then?"

"I don't have to answer your questions!" snapped Mal, sounding more irritated than I'd ever heard him before. Usually, even when he was annoyed with me, he kept a neutral tone as he delivered a threat. "You heard me. Now, I've never broken your face because I like it pretty, while the rest of you looks prettier when it's covered in my marks. But you know the rules – you obey me without question. If you hesitate again, I will not hesitate when I break your cheekbone. Or how about I make it so you'll need to have your cast back on?" The cast for my wrist had been taken off, but my wrist had only just stopped becoming stiff.

I went back to the position I was in before. "Don't do it, please." I pleaded.

"Relax, doll face, I'm letting you off this time." Mal said. "Just make sure that I don't need to follow through on that, all right?"

But, as my third month in juvie approached, I couldn't help wondering what was going on. What was Mal's secret?
We all know, but she doesn't. What do you think will happen next?