Strange Attractors

by NotAContrivance

And, so, like always, Derek took what he wanted by force.

14. Decay

Well, several things. First of all, sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up. Secondly, you obviously get to find out who Edwin slept with in this chapter. Third, I still am not fully satisfied with this chapter, but whatever. The one after this is also a little awkward for me at points, but I otherwise like it, especially content-wise and stuff like that. You get introduced to some other figures in Lizzie and Edwin's world, and you also learn a bit more about Lizzie, which is cool. And we're getting ever closer to the Christmas chapters (by my calculations three chapters away), which kind of set everything into motion. And that's cool because there's lots of family drama and interesting dynamics, and then you get to find out a bit more about the whole Derek/Casey business. Also, I apologize in advance for the science-y bit at the end because it is dreadfully confused, and you have no idea how hard it is to look up that stuff. Oy.

Oh, and to answer turtledove's question, since I technically am not allowed to answer anonymous reviews... Lizzie is not at all subtle. If she knew she was in love with Edwin, she'd pursue him with a lot more vigor, I assure you, and not just when she's out of her mind and has plausible deniability. You and Edwin would both know. ;) And, at this point, our girl isn't in love with Poor Ed, although he's happy to hear it, trust me! ;) And who's to say she will or won't be later? As for Derek and Casey, well, who says you'll ever find out exactly what happened with them? ;)

Finally, as per usual, I do not own any of the characters depicted therein. I only own their characterizations, 'cause almost all of my characters were at least mentioned on the show.

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Decay: 1. The process through which organic materials decompose. 2. The process in which large and instable nuclei deteriorate into smaller atoms by emitting neutrons and/or radiation. 3. The quantum phenomenon in which certain elementary particles transform into other particles. 4. To lose a stored charge, magnetic flux, or current.

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I awoke with a splitting headache and bits of light streaming in my eyes. I groaned weakly and tried to turn my head when all of a sudden I realized that my entire body felt heavy and sore. My body wanted to sleep, but I was terribly uncomfortable, and I was forced to open my eyes, in too much pain to return to slumber. My brain was still in a fog, and I strained to remember how I'd gotten here. One look was sufficient enough for me to realize that the room I was currently sleeping in, a bedroom from the looks of it, wasn't my bedroom or even a room in my house. My mind struggled to recapture the night before; at first, it felt like trying to grab air, to touch wisps that fell through my fingers.

I'd slept in some odd position, half-twisted in the sheets, kind of on my side. And it had been a rough night; that goes without saying. My muscles sure felt it, as if I'd overextended or strained them. Then, when I blinked and attempted to sit up a little, it occurred to me that I was completely naked under the thin sheets of this stranger's bed. I greeted this disturbing realization with a reaction equivalent to a mild stroke, thrashing suddenly, trying to vault out of the bed and almost falling. Obviously, since I don't normally sleep naked, even when I'm black-out drunk, I connected the dots to infer that I did get laid last night. I was relieved, and I felt guilty for it because I didn't know who I'd been with the previous night. From what I remembered of the evening and the snatches of thought processes that came to me, it could've been anyone... and well, just the mere thought was enough to cause me a high level of alarm. This is not the normal teenage male's reaction to sex; I realize, but when have I ever been normal?

When I remember last night, most of what I remember involves Lizzie: that stunt she pulled on the porch, worrying about her and Derek, wrestling in cake with her, being completely furious at her, so it's understandable that I'd be worried come morning. I slowly tried to turn over in the bed, which was painful and uncomfortable to say the least. Something had latched on to my other arm, making it impossible for me to extricate myself from the situation swiftly, not that any of me was able to move much faster than a sloth at that moment. When I was finally able to turn my head, popping something as I did it, I almost ran into someone's head. A head covered in messy blonde hair. I determined quickly that my bedmate was a girl because the sheets had shifted enough to reveal a fairly feminine physique and skin too soft and hairless to belong to a guy (and, really, I would've had to be on the verge of alcohol poisoning to go to bed naked with a dude!).

So a girl, then, but not Lizzie (or Sylvia), which in and of itself was a weight off my chest. The right thing to do, I knew, would be to stay until she woke up or else wake her up and then leave. Something about the girl was terribly familiar, and I had this awful feeling that I knew her somehow. Something in me was telling me to get up and get out and get back home. Still vacillating, I decided nothing and attempted to jerk my arm away from her. Unfortunately, when I tried to gently pull my arm away from her, she snuggled further into it, closer to me. Her head tilted towards me, and I caught my first glimpse at her face.

"Sonovabitch," I cursed not-quite-silently or in my head, and the sound was enough to wake her up. Tanya freaking Slutskaya. It came to me in flash after horrifying flash, bits and pieces of the night before. In graphic detail, gritty and unpleasant and fragmented. Each and every sliver of memory shamed me more. I was violently nauseous and thoroughly disgusted with the both of us, but mostly myself. It got to the point where I would've gnawed my arm off like a coyote to get away from her. The way I'm talking about it makes it sound like we did freakish, ungodly, disgusting things, but we didn't really even do anything kinky. The sex with Tanya, that was the freakish, ungodly, despicable thing.

Tanya, seeing the look on my face, frowned and blinked up at me sleepily. She moved closer to me, putting her hand on my shoulder and sliding it around to my back casually, more comfortable with touching me than I would have wished. "Mornin', Ed," she muttered a second before she leaned forward and pressed her lips against mine before I could stop her. I didn't respond. It was surprisingly soft and, well, decent, for Tanya. It could've possibly even been pleasant if I had any feelings for her other than disgust, dislike, and pity. Then her other hand snaked across my stomach and down, brushing over my thigh before grabbing me hard, and pulling a little. I groaned a little bit in pain but also because my traitorous body was perversely turned on by this, and Tanya took the opportunity to kiss me hard, tongue in my furry mouth. "One more for the road?" she asked hopefully, seductively, leaning in for another kiss.

Ordinarily this offer might be a bit more tempting, but I felt dirty all over and wanted her to get off of me. I reached down and pried her hand away from my genitals and then pushed her away. "Look, Tanya, I can't do this..." I told her honestly, looking her square in the eye. Tanya pouted, and I hastened to get out of bed but wound up tangled in the sheets and ended up falling out of the bed. And landing on my ass and clothes, very much naked. Tanya giggled at me and stared, and I think I was about as red as the whole planet of Mars at that point.

I stumbled to my feet, trying to pretend like I wasn't even half as embarrassed or ashamed as I was. It didn't work. Tanya was the only one who was actually enjoying this situation. I fumbled around with the clothes below me, trying to tug them on. "You don't have to get up so fast, you know. You can stay," Tanya said, beckoning to me. I shook my head no hard, and Tanya frowned, not comprehending. There's an odd simplicity about her. Tanya moved to sit up, wrapping an arm around her waist. A sensual figure she may be, lean and naked and pretty in an icy, pale sort of way, but she's not my type. "I had a great time last night, didn't you?" she continued, tilting her head back and staring at me with this look that I assume was meant to be alluring but instead gave me a headache.

Since I was torn between looking at Tanya and getting dressed, I wasn't dressing myself very well, and I was feeling more uncomfortable by the moment with her eyes on me like that. I tried in vain to think of something to say to discourage her, but I knew whatever I was going to say wouldn't be succinct enough or right enough for her to understand. "Tanya, you don't need to say anything. Please don't say anything," I instructed her, careful to keep all of the emotion out of my voice. A hint of pleading crept into my tone nonetheless as I struggled with pulling my stiff jeans up and over my legs.

Tanya nodded, and I thought that maybe we'd come to an agreement. "Of course." I was wrong. While I was attempting to zip up my jeans, I didn't see Tanya crawling across the bed. "You're right. Why waste time talking? There are so many better things we could be doing," she murmured huskily. I didn't realize what she was doing until she grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me to her, kissing me messily. I pushed her weakly, leaving my pants stranded halfway down my legs. When that wasn't enough to separate us, I turned my head away from her and shoved her harder than I meant to, sending her backwards, further onto the bed.

I had to make myself very clear this time, and I'd taken it for granted that she'd understood what I'd meant. I took several large steps away from the bed and finished pulling up and zipping my pants. After that, I felt a whole lot more secure dealing with her, coming from a place of less vulnerability. "Tanya, that's not what I meant at all. I'm really not interested in having sex with you. I need to get home," I replied tersely, eyes on the floor, hunting around for my shirt. I glanced up briefly and was greeted by the sight of a very much still naked Tanya, and, frankly, that was just a little too much Tanya for me. "For the love of God, Tanya, cover up." Didn't she have any shame?

Truthfully, I didn't really want to even look at Tanya because I remembered every time I did, so I tried to avoid it. Didn't she get the message by my urgency to dress, my continual habit of pushing her away, my strong desire to leave? I think she was pouting or something, but like I said, I didn't particularly care as long as she left me alone. "You're the only guy I've ever met to turn down sex," she remarked in a voice that was at the same time dismissive and disapproving. I shrugged, hardly paying attention to her. With all the experience I've had lately, resisting someone like Tanya is as easy as basic algebra. I've had practice with higher branches and harder forms of mathematics, so the creature comfort of someone such as Tanya is hardly tempting by comparison.

Predictably, she got frustrated that I wasn't paying attention to her. And, yes, I realize I'm acting like a total ass here, but I was hungover, still kind of pissed from the night before, and I didn't feel even remotely good. I was trying to be perfectly calm and emotionally neutral so that, among other things, she wouldn't attack me. To me, being completely unemotional seemed a logical response. If someone is ignoring you or not reacting when you bother them, you learn to stop because there's no gratification in it. Unfortunately for me, however, Tanya cannot be conditioned like one of Pavlov's dogs.

Tanya stalked over to me, grabbing my arm hard and turning me to face her abruptly. She'd surprisingly listened to me and wrapped a sheet around herself, much to my relief. But just as that had sunken in, she started talking, erasing the little progress we'd made. "Look at me, damn it!" she shouted, grabbing my face with her hand, forcing me to look at her. I didn't like what I saw; she was disheveled, emotional, and still that girl from last night. "Look, Venturi, you know I'm not much for talking, and I don't like this any more than you do, but we need to talk about it! You don't get to get away with giving me the best night of my life and pretending like nothing happened. We had sex!" Tanya snapped brusquely, adjusting the sheet around her body.

I think I winced at that, her boldly admitting what had happened; it still mortified me to think of it. Graphic, disturbing flashes burned behind my eyelids every time I blinked. Her eyes bore into mine like acid or drills, unsettling me, making me further uncomfortable. She was giving me that look that said she knew exactly what I looked like naked and just... everything... and I remembered why I didn't do this very much. You don't always want a person you slept with to have that kind of knowledge of you. It's great and all in the moment, but then it's just awkward whenever you see them in the hallway because you start thinking about it.

Foolishly, I decided to be honest with her. Even more idiotically, I forgot who I was talking to and went with my sensitive instincts for talking to girls. You can't really talk to Tanya like she's a girl because she'll get the wrong idea. She's tough and even more of a tomboy than Lizzie, and she's definitely more aggressive than your average girl. One cannot afford to use subtlety with someone such as her. I knew this, and yet I let my conscience trick me. "Don't say that. Don't say it was the best night of your life, Tanya, because that's just not true, and you deserve better," I told her insistently because it was true. She didn't deserve a drunken mistake like last night to be the best night of her life, and I was so drunk I don't see how it could've been very good at all.

Pure and simple, I drank to cripple my central nervous system, so fine motor skills and impulse control were probably pretty much shot. Obviously my frontal lobe was completely incapacitated since I would've never made a decision that stupid sober. Tanya snorted loudly but looked at me as if I was some kind of precious treasure, as if it were adorable that I'd said that. "Better? I don't see how it could get much better. You kept me up all night... Five times is pretty damn good, trust me. Any more and I think I'd die," Tanya retorted, sounding very much satisfied. On the one hand, it gratified my ego to hear my sexual prowess was up to par, especially from someone like Tanya, but she was probably remembering it as better than it really was.

A few awkward moments flashed in my mind's eye, and I had to swallow down the bile. Maybe Tanya had even dreamed up a version straight out of a porno that was much better than what had actually occurred. She was probably just saying that to butter me up because the odds of a feat like that actually happening, much less with a girl who personally repulsed me, were slim to none. From what I could remember, I had a very different, less pleasant memory of the night, although, really, if you think about it, sleeping with Tanya was probably the most satisfying thing that happened to me all that night. Tanya doesn't play games, after all, and she's no tease. What you see is what you get with her.

"Honestly, Tanya, I don't remember a lot of what happened last night. I was drunk out of my mind, and I'm sorry," I told her much more frankly. I didn't want to look at her as I said it, but her fingers were still resting on my chin and jawline, so I couldn't really look away. She didn't look down, but something flinty flashed in her eyes. I realized then that Tanya had blue eyes, like Lizzie, only hers were a different color, somehow brighter, more blue. I'd never looked before to notice this, and maybe, in a lot of ways, I'd never realized just how alike she and Lizzie really were.

To me, they've always been polar opposites. Lizzie has brown hair; Tanya has blonde. Lizzie's warm where Tanya's cold. Lizzie's friendly and popular where Tanya's isolated and combative. And I suppose that my bias against her, being forever on Lizzie's side, and this grudge I've had for years and years have stopped me from realizing their similarities. They're both athletic, tough, competitive, ridiculously beautiful in their own way, more aggressive than your typical girl, and attracted to me. They both prefer to wear loose clothes, both still maintain the vestiges of tomboyishness. They're built the same: lean, muscular, skinny, slightly above average height. They both have a kind of deceptive fragility about them, even though I know that both of them could kick my ass any day of the week. And they both have blue eyes.

And that's when it got even harder to be mean to Tanya because I knew I'd hate it if someone treated Lizzie like this. Suddenly, whenever I looked at Tanya, I saw Lizzie. Those damn eyes got to me, so I looked away, finally. Tanya was silent for a moment, and I wanted to say something more, but what could I possibly say? She seemed to have regained herself somewhat because when she spoke, she sounded self-assured as usual. "Just because you were drunk doesn't mean that you didn't know what you're doing. Come on, Edwin... I know you. You don't have sex with just anyone," Tanya pointed out stubbornly, tossing her hair. She spoke with a defiant intimacy that made me cringe and recoil.

I shook my head curtly. "Tanya, I was wasted. I was so drunk that I would've had sex with any girl who offered. It had been a long time, and I was horny. That's all it was, and it is what it is. I'm sorry about that, and I'm sorry I got your hopes up," I told her rather bluntly, needing desperately to end this conversation. It was shameful that I even had to have this conversation because I'm not one of those guys. I shrugged my stiff shirt on and attempted to start buttoning it, but Tanya stood up and put her hands on my shoulders. I instinctively wanted to take one big step backwards.

She purposefully leaned in and looked me dead in the eyes, though I felt more than a little uncomfortable with the situation. Her hands played with my lapels. What she said next was obviously very difficult for her to say, but she didn't make it seem that way. Tanya's not much of a feelings person; she's more the type to give orders and just expect you to follow them. I don't know why she expected that might work on me since none of her tactics ever had, but I had sex with her last night, and I don't think either of us ever thought that was going to happen either... "Edwin, it meant something to me... and I know it meant something to you too. This, it's obviously been building up a while, so why keep fighting it?" Her voice was almost imploring.

There was a pang in my chest, hollow and tinny, when she said it meant something to her. Because she was all wrong about me; it didn't mean a thing to me, as I'd asserted earlier. She didn't seem to understand what I was saying at all, and it annoyed me because Tanya isn't stupid. She's just terribly pigheaded and refuses to see logic when it's right in front of her in black and white, but I guess Lizzie's like that too. I shook my head slowly, hoping she'd get the point better that way. I put my hands on her shoulders hesitantly and pushed her away lightly because I couldn't really think as clearly as I needed to with her looming there in my vision. "Tanya," I said slowly, taking care to enunciate to make my case even clearer, "I don't feel the same way you do, okay? I don't want the same things you do... It can't be anything. I'm sorry for what happened last night because it wasn't right, and it wasn't fair to you. I'm sorry for using you, Tanya, because as much as I hate to admit it and like to think I'm a better man than that, that's what I did."

I said the words with the utmost care I could, sympathetically and trying to comfort her in some small way. I didn't take my hands off her shoulders, but maybe I should have. Maybe that misled her or confused her more, but if it did, it was unintentional. Tanya sighed, looking rather frustrated, and she knocked my hands off of her shoulders irritably. "Why not, Edwin? You're obviously attracted to me, or you wouldn't have slept with me. We have chemistry. You're the only guy at school who doesn't completely bore me," she pressed, giving me an expectant look. What she meant, though, was that I was the only guy in school who'd ever rejected her, and she only fixates on me because I'm unattainable, not at all interested, and her rival's brother. I wasn't particularly flattered by the sentiment.

An almost tortured look passed over her face. She seemed uncomfortable, almost unsure, and I glanced down and saw her wringing her hands. "And I actually like you, you know?" she asked rhetorically in an kind of strangled voice. I saw immediately that it was true, and it made me feel all the more guilty. Tanya's beautiful and everything, but I feel for her what I feel for a pane of stained glass. It's pretty to look at, fragile, and colorful but completely transparent, one-dimensional, and cool to the touch. Perhaps I should have feelings for a girl like Tanya, and maybe I would if I were a normal guy, but I want something with a little more depth. And I couldn't really feel bad about that because it wasn't my fault. She's just not my type.

My lack of a reaction may have set her off a little more. She flung her hands in the air, gesturing angrily as her voice rose. Although her voice grew louder, she shrewdly used logic to make her argument, a value she knows I appreciate. Still, it wasn't enough for me. "You're not gay, and you're not a priest, so what's the problem here? I could be the girl for you, but you completely refuse to see it!" she shouted passionately, pointing and coming uncomfortably close to me, almost throwing herself in my face. For a moment, I contemplated whether she might be right, but I dismissed the idle thought without saying a word.

My silence and utter absence of any sort of reaction, not even my usual technique of denial, unnerved her. It was almost as if she fed off of my veneer of apathy and overcompensated for it by reacting more emotionally. She pushed herself against me in a mixture of wantonness and desperation. "Why won't you be with me? Why can't you be with me? What's stopping you from giving it a try?" she demanded, fisting my shirt in her hands. Her eyes were wide and an unearthly blue. I was momentarily surprised at the overwhelming femininity she displayed at that moment: the softness of her skin, the feel of her, the light, sweet scent of her, the girlish raspiness of her voice, the hurt in her eyes.

Since not reacting at all had only intensified her reaction, I attempted to be even more direct. "I don't have feelings for you, Tanya. I'm sorry," I told her shortly. It was the nicest way I could put it, and I hoped she'd understand what I meant because I didn't want to have to really hurt her. I'd never thought her feelings for me were this strong, this insistent. I'd always thought she viewed me as a kind of trophy she could hold above Lizzie's head.

She shook her head, giving me a dirty look. "I need a reason, Edwin, and that one sucks," she proclaimed in her typical blunt fashion. She drew back from me a little and took her hands off my shirt, purposefully smoothing over the creases she'd just made. She looked down and collected herself a little before regarding me coolly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Just because you don't have feelings for me now doesn't mean you can never have feelings for me. So unless you give me a legitimate reason why you don't want me, I'm not going to let you get away," Tanya pointed out stubbornly. Her fingers tapped her arm impatiently as she waited for an answer.

I bit the inside of my cheek; Tanya had me there. Honestly, I didn't know what to say. I just knew that all of Tanya's various superficial charms would never be enough for me. I could never have real romantic feelings for Tanya, and even though it was still logically and technically a possibility, it was as good as impossible to me. Telling her anything other than the truth to save her feelings would only mislead her and cause the both of us undue frustration. I sighed heavily and tried to regain some of my dignity by successfully buttoning my shirt all the way up to the top. It was filler until I could think of something to say. "Look, Tanya... I just know, okay? I'm never going to feel that way about you. You're not my type," I told her perhaps too inconsiderately.

Tanya scoffed. "How do you know if you won't even give me a chance, Venturi?" she snapped bitterly. There was a nastiness to her features, a thinly-veiled rage threatening to bubble up to the surface. She paused a minute, a brief, terse minute, and when she did speak, practically spat her next words at me, "And what is your type, Edwin? Brunettes?" She gave me an expectant, irritated look. Her voice was tinged with obvious jealousy, but I didn't really pause to consider why, and I should have. Her remark had taken me by surprise because I was foolish enough to think she'd gotten it.

After all, brunettes are my type. I looked at her and said plainly, "Yes." Then I went back to searching for my socks and shoes. It was silly of me to think that would make her stop. Tanya followed me around the room, needling me with a commentary I didn't need. She said some things I don't remember, probably more of the same. It didn't matter to me because I wasn't listening, but then she pulled out the trump card.

"You know, Edwin," she said over my shoulder, "despite what everyone thinks of me and what everyone says about me behind my back, I'm not a whore." People, mainly rejected suitors and jealous girls she'd probably said nasty things to (only Tanya, unlike her persecutors, actually said these things to their faces. She usually said things that everyone else knew and that were generally true but that no one else had the guts to say), like to call her a slut. No one really questioned it, despite a lack of real evidence, because Tanya does have boyfriends from time to time and tends to be overly physically demonstrative. Plus there's the fact that Tanya is generally a prickly, blunt, rather unpleasant sort of person and accordingly doesn't have many people to stick with her and debunk the rumors.

Admittedly, I tended to agree with these people because Tanya had always thrown herself at me. I had no reason to think otherwise. The fact that I'd just had a drunken one-night stand with her didn't exactly repudiate the stereotype. I turned to look at Tanya, having found one of my shoes. "Last night... it was... You were my first, okay?" she admitted finally, almost shouting. That made me drop my shoe and stop dead in my tracks, slackjawed by her revelation. At first, I couldn't believe it, and, really, I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to be the kind of guy who did that, who took something like that from her. Ever since I lost my virginity at that stupid party to that girl I don't even remember, I made a vow to never do that to someone because it wasn't fair or ethical to either of us. As much as a lot of guys don't want to admit it, losing your virginity does mean something, and not just that you're horny or biologically capable of and ready for procreation. Anyone who says it doesn't is lying.

And, to quote Britney Spears, "Oops! I did it again." I felt instantly horrible, perhaps even worse than I'd been feeling lately for my lewd and lascivious thoughts of Lizzie. That was a private thing, my personal cross to bear, not something that actually hurt anyone or anything other than my sanity. This was something else entirely, a lower plane of existence, something that challenged my idea of myself. I was dirt; I was scum; I was a bottom-feeder. I was deeply and terribly ashamed with myself. I was flooded with guilt, shame, and pity for her, and I had a sudden, desperate need to make it right in whatever way I could. As much as Tanya stood there like a woman made of stone, a cool Grecian goddess to be worshipped, I knew it meant more than she'd said.

"God, Tanya, I'm so sorry," I said, genuinely meaning it, reaching out for her, hesitantly putting my hand on her shoulder. I barely trusted myself to do that, and I didn't even feel like I could look myself in a mirror at that point. Tanya just blinked at me, too confused to formulate a response. From what I remembered (barely and not entirely cohesively) of the night before, it hadn't been at all like a girl's first time should be. We'd barely made it to the bedroom and only made it as far as the floor; we'd ripped each others' clothes off in a hurry. I remembered the desperation, the hot, demanding lust, the fierce, overwhelming desire pumping in my veins, the anger pulsing in me.

I hadn't been even remotely considerate. Foreplay had been ignored completely. It hadn't really been romantic at all; we'd kissed intermittently, but that was it. It had been awkward and uncomfortable, and our bodies weren't really in-sync at all. There was no rhythm. The first time had been over in less than ten minutes total, and there'd been little time for either of us to recover before I was at it again. I hadn't been gentle, but she hadn't been either. It horrified me to think of it at all, to try and piece together memories with this wretched knowledge hanging over me.

"You didn't deserve that for a first time. You deserved better than some drunken, bumbling idiot who couldn't even remember and didn't know what he was doing. You deserved to be with someone who cares about you, Tanya," I told her determinedly, rubbing her shoulder unintentionally. I forced myself to look her in the eyes. She deserved someone who wasn't ashamed to be with her, someone who wasn't ambivalent like me. I cleared my throat, wondering what I could possibly say because I didn't think anything would be good enough. "And I didn't act... like a good person should've. I took advantage of you; I led you on, and I used you. And I took something away from you that you can never get back, and Tanya, I'm so sorry for that. I wish there was something I could do to fix what I did to you..." I admitted, even though it was hard.

Better to get all of my sins, all of my crimes out in the open. Telling her that didn't make me feel any less wretched because there was so much else I wasn't telling her, and what I held back was even worse. I might've been on the verge of tears then because I really did feel for Tanya, and I felt low, lower than the Dead Sea and just as dead. I wouldn't have wanted a guy like me near either of my sisters. Tanya blinked at me yet again in disbelief. "Are you crying?" I shook my head no and frantically, even more shamefully, tried to regain my composure.

Tanya huffed, almost grimacing like she was uncomfortable with my display of emotion, and hesitantly patted me on the shoulder. "Look, Ed, I get that you were sloshed and horny. And I'm not complaining, okay? 'Cause I was pretty damn sober, and you wouldn't have had sex with me otherwise. Trust me, I knew what I was doing. If anything, I took advantage of you because you weren't in any position to make a decision," Tanya said matter-of-factly. I blinked in confusion; suddenly all of her sharp edges had come out again. For a moment, I hoped that maybe she was repulsed by my display of emotion.

I barely had time to think about any of that, let alone reconcile my very mixed feelings, because Tanya kept talking. She brushed my earnest concerns off like water. "I'm not some delicate little flower, okay, Venturi? I don't need soft music, mood lighting, and candles. And I had a good time, so forget that crap about you not knowing what you were doing. I don't regret it, and I'd do it over again the same way. Because it was you, and that was what mattered," Tanya informed me brusquely, defiantly. Her voice softened a bit with that last sentence, but there was a steely, determined resolve beneath her words. I had trouble believing that anyone could be so hard, but maybe I was wrong about Tanya.

Still, I felt like I had to apologize because, to me, it had been a more or less meaningless sexual encounter. What I remembered was furious and frenetic and hot but not in a good way. It was gritty and real and mindless and sticky. I had flashes of pounding into her without ceasing, harder and harder still, of touching her in places that shamed me, with no regard for her feelings or her reaction, even. I didn't remember how she felt because she was just a place-holder for someone else. I had been totally focused on my own pleasure, on getting out everything I needed to expel, purging all the feelings and tension that had built up inside of me for so long. Her cries I remembered, and it pained my ears to think about them because it sounded more like she was in pain than enjoying herself.

I remembered crashing into things, backs pressed against walls and doors, stumbling into furniture, knocking things over, her on me, bending her over backwards, me on her, her on me, completely out of my control. I'd been in the throes of something beyond me, even beyond me and Tanya. It wasn't sex or sleeping together or making love or any nice euphemism for the act of intercourse; it was screwing; it was rutting; it was brutal, hard, raw, primal, and animalistic. It had been rough and kind of... painful, and our bodies bent in ways I didn't think they could.

Looking at her, really looking at her, I saw for the first time that she had faint hand-shaped bruises on her wrists, her shoulders, the curve of her spine, vicious hickeys on her neck, and, I remembered, finger-shaped bruises on her hips. She bore these marks with pride and grace, but I was even more disgusted with myself. It sickened me to look at them, to see physical, visual proof of what I'd done to her. "I'm sorry I hurt you." I didn't leave out the if because obviously I had, probably in more ways than one.

Tanya, cool as ever, just shrugged it off. "It's okay," she told me honestly. Actually, she allowed herself a rare, self-satisfied smirk, like she was pleased with herself. "I'm a hockey player, Ed. You think I can't take a little pain? You think I don't like it rough?" she quipped with a bit of a chuckle. The statement mildly alarmed me, and I went over to the mirror in the room. Unbelievably, the bruises on my neck and shoulders (fortunately my shirt hid or diminished most of them, especially when I popped my color) looked even worse, like bite marks, almost infected, and they stung when I looked at them. I felt angry scratches ripple on my back. It was no wonder I'd felt like I'd been run-over by a truck. "I like it when a guy can hold his own, and it's not like I didn't leave my mark on you, Venturi. Besides, pain and pleasure go hand in hand, and last night was the best night of my life. I'm grateful I had the chance to enjoy it," Tanya elaborated, a decidedly wicked look flickering in her eyes.

I blinked at her. She sure wasn't talking like a virgin; she was speaking like a dominatrix! "Who are you, the Marquis de Sade?" I asked incredulously. Tanya just blinked at me, confused, for a moment, before ignoring my statement and coming towards me.

"So," she said, reaching for me, "where's my reason, Ed? Give me one good reason why you don't want to have sex with me, and "I'm not in the mood" isn't an answer because I know better." Tanya stared me down for a tense, long moment, waiting before pouncing like a panther. She smirked a little. "Let me guess... you don't have one, do you?" She practically radiated glee and had an air of proclaimed victory already.

There was only one way I could get out of this, and I knew what I had to say. But I didn't want to say it one bit because it was a lie (well, not just because it was a lie but because it was something I was uncomfortable with). I didn't want to admit to something, much less something shameful, when it wasn't true. It was the best reason there was, though, the most believable, as much as I hated to acknowledge it. Even if I said it, there was still no guarantee that she'd leave me alone and let me go. And, worse still, at that point, I didn't have any other viable options. She'd backed me into a corner, and this was the only way out. "Because, Tanya," I blurted anxiously, "I'm in love with Lizzie!"

She gaped at me for a solid minute, and had I been viewing myself at that particular moment, I would've been gaping too. I watched her uncertainly, afraid of her reaction. It was, after all, the ultimate affront: choosing my stepsister and her chief rival over her, and that had to hurt. It didn't come out as dramatically as you'd think, and I wasn't really sure I was all that convincing at first, actually. But as the shock wore off, and she was able to close her mouth, it settled into her, kind of. She believed it readily, which was apparent by the crushed yet furious look on her face. I waited with bated breath for her to say something. When she finally did, it just about knocked me off my feet. "I knew it!" she exclaimed with an air of vindication, like she'd always known. She wasn't really surprised at all, I realized; she'd been surprised that I'd told her, that I'd admitted it.

I swallowed uncomfortably, waiting for her to say something. Tanya didn't; she was obviously waiting for me to elaborate. Finally, when she saw I wasn't going to say anything, Tanya snapped, "Are you mute or something? That's all I get? No other explanation? You can't even string a sentence together after telling me the awful truth?" Her voice was quick and irritated. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't just make up some lie of a backstory for feelings I didn't have. And why did she care anyway? Why did she want more of a reaction? She didn't really want or need to know the nonexistent details.

I sighed, bending down and putting my shoes on. "What do you want from me, Tanya? My... feelings for Lizzie are absolutely none of your business. It's not exactly something I like to publicize, so I'm not just gonna stand here with you and share all the juicy details," I retorted defensively. This time it actually did sound convincing. I was weary, sick and tired of going around in circles with her. My headache just kept getting worse, and I was still there when all I wanted to do was go home, shower, sleep, and forget that this awful day had ever actually happened.

It was the first time I'd been needlessly mean to Tanya, but she'd really gotten on my nerves this time, and everyone knows Lizzie's a sore subject with me. Tanya placed her hands on her hips, glowering at me. She was suddenly very imposing, a fierce figure. "Well, considering you just told me you're in love with my nemesis, and I haven't kicked your ass... I think that makes it my business, Venturi. So why don't you tell me what makes Lizzie so special? Why her and not me?" Tanya persisted with a threatening tone in her voice. I knew the performance she expected me to put on, and I knew I'd nail it.

"Lizzie gets me, okay? She knows me. She's my best friend in the whole world, my family, my partner-in-crime... my everything... and the only person who's always stood by me. She's there for me, and I'm there for her. And, yeah, she's a lot more than that... she's beautiful and sexy and strong and caring and intelligent, and probably the most amazing person I've ever met. I respect and admire her a lot, and I'm grateful for all she's done for me. I couldn't imagine my life without her," I elucidated fiercely. I spat each word as if it were a bullet, but it was really meant with the deepest conviction. The truly sad thing was that I wasn't really lying at all; the only think I didn't necessarily think was true was that "my everything" part because it was cliché... and she means the world to me, but she's not my life.

Tanya winced almost as if stricken (only she wasn't enjoying it near as much). While she did look visibly upset, she maintained control over her emotions. "Jeez, don't try to spare my feelings, Ed," she grunted sarcastically. Just that small bit of information had been too much for her. A moment later, however, a little grin crossed her lips. "Pity she's a tease, though," she interjected with a faux innocent look on her features. She placed her hand then on my forearm, deliberately, and started rubbing my arm and giving me a decidedly suggestive look. "She'll never leave you satisfied," Tanya murmured tantalizingly, leaning forward.

Perhaps I'd never given Tanya quite enough credit and had always brushed her off as crazy, but she was certainly a surprise with these complete one-hundred-and-eighty degree revolutions. One moment she was downtrodden, the next desperate, another still hard and emotionless, the one after that seductive. She's a thoroughly perplexing female; that's for sure. She's hard as diamonds and wicked in a way, masochistic even, despite her fragile appearance. She's the meanest player in the league, but there's a shrewd mind underneath that antisocial personality, an eye for nuance. Either way, she was certainly correct about Lizzie and my relationship with her, but I'd already accepted it, so it didn't matter to me.

I shrugged, leaning in a bit further, and said, coolly, because I was pretty pissed at her taking that potshot at Lizzie, "Well, we can't all be like you, Slutskaya." Tanya looked a little uncomfortable, but she didn't back away. She continued to gaze back into my eyes defiantly, like some kind of feral animal. "Besides, why do you think I had sex with you, Tanya? I only slept with you because I was so mad at Lizzie for ignoring me all night that I couldn't see straight!" I barked. Tanya shrank back a little, looking genuinely wounded by that, and I guess she was right to be wounded because that was, more or less, the truth.

She wasn't a caged animal, though, Tanya. "You think I don't know that? That I haven't always known you've been in love with Lizzie? Why else do you think I hate her?! I'm jealous of Lizzie because she has everything and doesn't know what to do with it! Everybody likes her, and people are instantly afraid of me. She's a faster skater than me, and coach likes her better, even though I'm the technically better skater and captain, and I can do a triple lutz and a triple axle and all kinds of good moves... and she has you wrapped around her little finger. Lizzie's like the young American girl who gets the gold medal while I'm stuck with silver or bronze," Tanya shouted, furious, practically shaking with rage. She radiated jealousy.

What does figure skating have to do with any of this? I blinked dully, but I understood Tanya better than she knew. It was how I'd always felt towards Derek; everything just fell in his lap while I had to work for everything I got. Everyone seemed to like him better; Derek's effortlessly popular, immediately liked. He always says the right thing, even when it isn't, and he can get any girl he wants. He's charismatic and good-looking, and he gets away with absolutely everything. It was like I'd told Lizzie at the party; if anything, I was jealous of Derek for his innate ability to always get what I wanted. Derek's achievements were held up as an example whereas all the things I'd done, things I was better at than Derek, even, were marginalized, ignored, and forgotten. I might not get the skating reference, but I got the resentment, all right. "I know what you mean," I mumbled, but Tanya probably didn't hear it.

A cold hate burned in Tanya's eyes. It was the look that she gave potential targets on the ice, the look she gave before hip-checking innocent wingers into the boards, tackling someone in her way, swiftly punching you in the face when the referee's back was turned, the look she gave before sticking her foot out to trip you, flipping you over with her skate, and thrusting her hockey stick just above your jugular. The blue flames burned for Lizzie, not me. "I see the way she flits around from guy to guy, Edwin. She's got a short attention span, and she doesn't appreciate you like she should. I mean, it's pretty damn obvious you'd do anything for her, but what do you really get out of your friendship? She uses you, maybe not even deliberately, but she does, and you know I'm right. She doesn't deserve you," Tanya said in a caustic voice that was almost pitying.

I was silent for a long moment. As much as Tanya was wrong about Lizzie (I couldn't help but think that Michelle had also brought up the duration of her relationships, a factor which I still consider mostly irrelevant), she had said a lot of things that had been on my mind lately. My friendship with Lizzie is of incalculable value to me, but it's hard for me to understand why, especially lately. Also, as much as I hated to admit it, I did feel like Lizzie used me. I was distracted when I replied to Tanya and blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "Trust me, Tanya, I don't deserve Lizzie."

Tanya blinked at me incredulously. "You're freaking kidding me, right?" she exclaimed in sheer disbelief. I shook my head no slowly, and Tanya rolled her eyes at me. "She's sure got you whipped for someone who never puts out. I must learn her secret," Tanya retorted sarcastically, although there was a little undertone of awe in her voice. Lizzie's secret is subtlety. As Tanya isn't a tease, she wouldn't understand this. Tanya doesn't know the meaning of subtlety. She's a predator; what she wants, she pursues. Tanya sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed and leaning back on her elbows.

"Now, see, what really gets me is that Lizzie has absolutely no idea of the effect she has on you," Tanya remarked breezily. Her eyes flashed dangerously. "She doesn't even know because you haven't told her," she said suddenly, as if she'd just realized something. A thin little smile played on her lips and she leaned forward suddenly, shifting like a spring. "I never took you for a coward, Venturi. Guess I was wrong. You may have the guts to stand up to me, but you don't have the balls to do something about how you feel about Lizzie," Tanya drawled. Given that she barely knows me, the words were particularly cutting.

I am many things, but I haven't been a coward for a long time, and I'm not one now. And I'm not even in love with Lizzie anyway! I wanted to say that right then, in a fit of anger, but I had a feeling that was what Tanya wanted from me. "I'm not a coward, Tanya. I'm a realist. She's my best friend and my sister, and that's what's important. I'm not going to mess that up by telling her. There's absolutely no reason to tell her unless I'm a glutton for punishment. It's not eating me alive, and it'll probably go away. And I have a better chance of getting sucked into a black hole than I do of her reciprocating my feelings," I countered tersely, painting it in purely logical terms.

Given that I didn't particularly want Lizzie to have feelings for me, the comparison was fairly ironic (since Lizzie and I do seem to feel the same way about each other, for the most part). Still, I thought it was apt, given I'd have to be in deep space in order to be sucked into a black hole, and the odds of me ever going into outer space alone are extremely unlikely at best. Besides, getting far enough into space to be anywhere near a black hole would require travel faster than or close to the speed of light, which doesn't yet exist (and travel faster than the speed of light is impossible, according to Einstein), and that amount of time in space might just kill me anyway (if the time to travel there didn't already assure my demise).

Tanya shrugged. "Then give her time to get used to it, Edwin," Tanya informed me tactlessly, lounging on the bed. "After all, why wouldn't she go for you? You've seen her in her most unattractive and vulnerable moments, and you haven't gone running for the hills. You're her best friend... you keep all her secrets... you're always there for her. And she thinks you're attractive," Tanya continued. I blinked at her. How did she know that and why on Earth was she giving me a peptalk on going after her worst enemy? At my questioning look, Tanya snorted. "What, you think the girls don't talk about you in the locker room? You're a Venturi, Edwin," Tanya quipped with a grin.

I made a face and stared at her long and hard for a moment, trying and failing to understand her contradictory behavior. I understand altruism, but Tanya's hardly an altruistic person to begin with... and I don't see why she'd want to help me. "Why are you doing this, Tanya? It doesn't make any sense," I said, grasping at air, trying to catch individual molecules.

"You can't make sense of everything, Ed," Tanya told me, standing up and beginning to move around the room to find her clothes. She bent down and found a jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes triumphantly, coming back up slowly. "And it doesn't change the fact that you should tell her." She shrugged obliquely, and her face was that cool, blank mask again. "And, anyway, maybe I think she deserves to know. I know I'd want to know. You need to get off your ass and give it a shot. I mean..." Here she faltered, cigarette trembling in her hand, halfway to her mouth. She didn't say anything, and an almost tremulous look passed over her face, but then she was expressionless as ever, as if her facial muscles had been paralyzed by some kind of neurotoxin. "Edwin and Lizzie. Even I can see that's kinda meant to be."

How poetic of you, Tanya, I thought ironically. I didn't want to sit there and be forced to listen to her go on about these romantic feelings I didn't possess anymore. It was beginning to make me feel ill. I struggled to think of something to say, checking to be sure that I was fully dressed, even if I was dressed in stiff, cake-encrusted clothing. "Look, Tanya, for what it's worth, I'm sorry I can't be what you want. I'm just... not wired that way. Just... I'll see you at school, I guess," I said awkwardly, offering a weak wave and slipping out the door before she could throw herself at me in some characteristically overly physical and emotional outburst.

I was moving fast for several reasons: 1. I was supposed to be at home and probably in a fair amount of trouble, 2. I was in Dan's house, not my own, and 3. I was admittedly worried that Tanya might chase after me and drag me back to bed. And I might not be able to or desirous of say(ing) no. Of course, with my life hating me the way it usually does (yes, I know personifying a concept as considerably vague and inanimate, yes, ironic, I know, as life, is irrational and not quite... fitting, but my life and luck, or lack thereof, is so qualifiably horrendous that I feel entitled to make the comparison), I ran into Dan in the hallway. Not literally, of course, because he isn't a girl confusing the hell out of me, but that didn't mean it wasn't awkward.

Dan blinked upon seeing me, clearly having just woken up himself. "You're still here?" he asked disbelievingly. Obviously, Dan, because why would your brain hallucinate an image of me, as opposed to an attractive blonde? He must've either smelled or else correctly read my expression and body language (he's a crafty bastard like that) to determine my shame. "What did you do?" he asked suspiciously a moment later when he'd gained some sense.

Stupidly, I confirmed his worst suspicions by looking down like a person who is lying and/or suspicious. As if the cake still clinging to my rumpled clothes didn't give enough away. "Trust me, man, you don't want to know." Then I shook my head very, very slowly and let out a long, drawn-out sigh. "I don't want to know."

It was the truth. Also, about one second later, a fully-dressed Tanya came out of the room I'd exited in similarly rumpled clothing. Very subtle. Dan looked from her to me and gaped. "Man, a Walk of Shame, really?" he practically gasped in a tone that was full of both awe and a kind of fear. I was kind of offended, really, because he was acting like me having sex was really that rare. I have actually gotten laid from time to time, as opposed to some of my other friends who can't even talk to girls! Now, mind you, they're much more into comic books, video games, and role-playing games than I am... but I do prefer to have an actual life in the outside world as opposed to being a level fifty-nine mage in World of Warcraft or whatever.

Tanya's exit was also my cue to leave. I flashed Dan a tight smile, briefly patting him on the shoulder. "Great party, Dan. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get going," I told him briskly before practically vaulting down the stairs in my haste to get out of the house. I was fortunate enough to discover my keys in my pocket and that my car was still there, which meant that Lizzie had gotten a ride with someone else. This was not something I particularly wanted to think about because the first thing that came to my mind after Derek and their similarly inebriated states was her leaving with some guy.

As I was driving home, I carefully noted the time on the dashboard. Unfortunately, it was about ten-thirty. While I could sneak past all of the others, I knew that Lizzie would be home by the time I got there. She'd still be all keyed up from whatever game she'd just been playing in, wide awake, grumpy, sore, and pumped full of adrenaline and residual aggression. I would invariably wind up telling her about what had just transpired because it was better she find out from me and be prepared for Tanya mentioning it later. There's also my inability to keep much of anything from her, and the fact that Lizzie would demand an explanation for my whereabouts the night before. Either way, Lizzie wasn't going to be happy for me; she'd be on the warpath, and I'd be lucky if I came out of it with my head still attached to my body.

I showed up at home hours late, dirty, unkempt, and still smeared with cake. Liz was leaning against the banister, waiting for me with a pretty pissed look on her face. When she saw me, her eyes sparked dangerously, and she came down the stairs menacingly, irritation radiating from each step. Her cheeks were still flushed, and her hair was still in the sweaty ponytail. She was still wearing her soccer uniform, which clung to her damp sides in a way that made me uncomfortable all over again. "So, mind telling me where the hell you were last night?" Liz snapped, coming towards me, arms crossed over her chest.

It wasn't really a question; it was more of an imperial mandate. There was an expectant look on her face, but obviously I didn't want to tell her. Not only would she never let me live it down, but she'd hold it against me because we'd gone there together and I'd left her to fend for herself. Let me tell you, that girl can keep a grudge. "Good morning to you too, Liz," I muttered sarcastically. However, after weighing it over for the approximate second I had before she exploded at me for taking too long, I decided it was best to be upfront about it. Lizzie hates it when people dodge a question and beat around the bush; she, like myself, prefers specific facts.

At that point I was aware that I could offer Lizzie vague generalizations to build up to the main point, but Liz prefers hearing the bad news first. I could just say that I spent the night at Dan's, for instance, or that I was with a girl, but those would still be lies of omission, even though they were both technically true. I could've even asked Tanya to swear not to tell anyone about... the sex... Ugh, it still makes me a little sick (and disturbingly turned on) to think about it. "Basically, from what I can discern, I got completely trashed and had sex with Tanya," I told her matter-of-factly.

Admittedly, the fact that I knew it would probably leave her speechless was also a significant motivating factor in my decision to tell her all of that at once. For a long moment, Lizzie merely gaped at me, and, I have to say, I was rather amused. It gave me time to move past her and fetch some well-needed aspirin from the bathroom and also take the argument to a less public place. She got over her shock when I left the bathroom; I opened the door, and there she was, standing directly in my way. "Tanya as in Tanya Slutskaya? The one on my hockey team? The one who assaults you in the hallway? That Tanya?" Lizzie reiterated, although it was clear to me that she knew the answer.

I rolled my eyes at her, rubbing my head faintly. "Liz, what other Tanyas do we know?" I attempted to move past her towards my room so that our younger siblings or other family members couldn't possibly witness this very awkward conversation, but Liz didn't budge an inch, as usual. Liz blinked, still unable to believe I'd given in to Tanya (as was I, for that matter, but I'd consumed roughly enough alcohol to tranquilize a pony, so I chalked it up to that). I wisely took a step backwards so it'd be harder for her to injure me, which would be inevitably her first response.

Lizzie is a very physical type of person, not at all the kind to back away from conflict or potential conflict. She's very aware of her body and surroundings, and her basic instinct is always to fight (mine, on the other hand, is flight, and I think this explains a lot about the two of us). A variety of emotions passed over her bewildered features, one after the other, eventually bleeding and blending together: shame, frustration, embarrassment, irritation, annoyance, sheer rage, and finally immense disgust. I didn't see the blow coming, but I could sense it, and so I pulled back a little to lessen the impact. The palm of her hand flew hard at my cheek, slapping me so hard my head turned. "I can't believe you, Edwin!" she exclaimed in horror.

Sadly, I knew I was lucky to get that kind of a response from her. If she'd been truly mad, I'd have seen her closed fist instead of her open palm, and she probably wouldn't have gone for that particular body part. Nevertheless, that didn't mean it didn't sting like a bitch! I rubbed my cheek, scowling at her. "Okay, Lizzie, what exactly can't you believe? I'm a red-blooded man in my sexual prime. I have needs, and I was drunk and horny. I would've had sex with just about anyone, like I told Tanya," I pointed out coolly.

She looked fairly aghast that I'd actually told Tanya that but managed to respond fairly quickly. "Well, for one thing, Genius, I thought you were smarter than that," Liz muttered before whirling around and smacking me upside the head. I didn't see that one coming at all, so it hurt. A lot. Surprisingly, she didn't say anything else, busy being caught up in her anger.

So, I decided that, while I had the chance, I ought to try and twist the argument to my advantage. It's true that you never or almost never win an argument against a woman, yes, but the argument annoyed me. Because, if one takes the time to logically think about it, Lizzie just shouldn't be this mad. It's not really like I've given her details, so she can't really be disgusted, and, while Tanya might be her rival, it's not like I actively sought her out to spite Lizzie. Furthermore, who I have sex with really isn't any of Lizzie's business. Lizzie's too emotional to appreciate my logical argument, so I guess I'll take it to her level. "What about you, Liz? Where were you when Tanya was leading me up the stairs? Still drooling over Derek? You didn't stop me!" I retorted irritably, turning the argument on her. Admittedly, I was still a bit bitter from the night before because I had the misfortune of remembering every single screwed up thing she did to me.

Lizzie's cheeks colored because I was probably right. "Don't try to blame your stupid decision on me. I'm not my brother's keeper! It's not my job to look after you and pull you away from the dumb slut! I have a life too, Edwin, and you'd think that... since you're supposed to be a grown man and everything now that you wouldn't try to pass your bad choices off on me! I'm not the one who had sex with Tanya here!" Lizzie shouted at me practically incoherently, shaking her hands, up in my face.

She was impossible to avoid like this with that withering Gorgon stare fixated on me. I glanced around the bathroom hopelessly, wondering how I always managed to get embroiled in some form of conflict here, in this very room. I rolled my eyes at her. I realize that the choice I made was technically and actually my decision, but I never would have... decided (not that I really did)... to do that if Lizzie hadn't as much as pushed me to it. That reminded me that I didn't know where the hell she'd gone and what had happened to her last night. The not-knowing burned like a sexually-transmitted infection. "What the hell happened to you, huh, Lizzie? Where were you when I was screwing Tanya? Having sex with Derek?" I growled, moving closer to her, trying to intimidate her with my stature.

Lizzie's never been one to be easily intimidated, though. I regretted what I'd said, the irrational conclusion to which I'd jumped, almost immediately after I'd said it. It felt a little like I was revealing too much of the strychnine-marinated thoughts I liked to keep in neat little boxes. She turned the color of sour milk, except for her cheeks, which were still tinted with a faint flush. This I mistakenly interpreted as guilt, as opposed to what it truly was: sheer mortification. It took her a good minute to find her voice, and when she did, it was hardly convincing. "No! Not that it's any of your business-" she began rather weakly.

I cut her off with an instinctive response, foolishly pressing the issue I tried so very hard not to think about. "But it is because he's my brother, and you're my sister, and-" I countered with a vicious swiftness. It was something that had been weighing on my mind for quite a while because Liz really had never seen just how involved I was in... whatever feelings she has for my brother. And I am involved, whether or not she wants to admit I am, because she made me involved.

Her eyes flashed like a tsunami, fury etched into her features as she interrupted. "Damnit, Edwin, no, I didn't screw Derek, okay? As much as I want to, it didn't happen. Unlike you, I can control my sexual desires," Liz snapped more bluntly than usual. Her words stung like antiseptic not just because of their blunted cruelty but more so because of the bitter irony behind those words. I knew better. Nevertheless, words couldn't explain the wave of relief that came over me. I saw by her clenched fists, tight muscles, and stony features that she was telling the truth.

Truthfully, I was kind of wondering how Lizzie didn't manage to completely humiliate herself by coming on to Derek, but I felt like I had done my duty, like I'd worried for nothing. Still, that didn't mean that I was going to let her get away with that very untrue quip, not when it was so far from what I knew. "Oh, come on! When you're drunk, you hit on anything with a pulse! What, did Derek reject you? Or did he go home with someone else?" I retorted loudly. Lizzie scowled at me, and her cheeks reddened.

My heartbeat quickened involuntarily because I was worried I'd accidentally hit upon something. However, Lizzie recovered soon enough, tossing her hair. She crossed her arms over her chest. "He was a perfect gentleman, actually. He drove me home when my other stupid brother, the one who was my ride to the party, couldn't be found. Because he was busy having sex with my worst enemy," she replied icily, enunciating her words so they seemed to pop out of her mouth, crisp and deadly. She then proceeded to reinforce this statement with a glower.

Admittedly, it got to me a little bit, made me feel guilty. Derek, however, was no gentleman, and he shouldn't have driven anyone anywhere when he was that drunk. Honestly, I was kind of surprised that it seemed like Liz hadn't made a move on him when she'd had such a good chance and excuse to do so. Maybe she has more sense than I thought... But then, out of nowhere, she slapped me again, hard across the face. "That's for saying all those nasty things about me and Derek. I know you don't approve, but can you at least restrain your disdain to your private thoughts? I don't need to hear how much you disapprove every second of every day," Liz snarled, looking particularly combative.

She was, I noticed, in her fighting stance, arms up, palms facing outward. That last slap, coupled with her fighting position and utter denial of what I knew to be facts, absolutely infuriated me. "What do you want from me, Lizzie? I had sex with her. It's not like I wanted to, but I can't undo that. It's not like I can un-have sex with her! So what do you expect me to do about it, Liz?" I shouted back at her, frustrated, invading her space in a way that was familiar to me but not familiar to me personally. It was something I'd always seen Derek and Lizzie, masters of physical confrontation, do in arguments, but I felt uncomfortable adopting an action so unfamiliar to myself.

Liz wasn't afraid or uncomfortable, but then again, she doesn't really intimidate. She's had years of training to make sure she doesn't back down from a good fight. She turned away from me for the first time, running a hand over her head absently, and she started to pace very much like her sister. "Do you realize what this means? Thanks to your inability to keep your dick in your pants, my worst enemy now knows exactly what my brother's like in bed," Lizzie exclaimed, pausing to throw me a dirty look. An absolutely horrified look crept over her face as she continued to pace, throwing her hands in the air in a way that was uncharacteristically dramatic.

"Guess what I'll have to hear about in the locker room after practice, Ed? Your brother did this, your brother did that... Your brother really turned me on. And his face looked like this, and he said that... Ooh, oh, give it to me, baby. In graphic detail, Edwin! Graphic! As if I can't already see it happening in my head! And, being obsessed with you, she'll remember everything and, hating me, will take great delight in retelling every nasty little detail to me and the rest of our entire hockey team! I do not want to hear about your disgusting sex life!" she rambled, damn near getting herself worked up into a frenzy.

The look on her face slowly changed to disgust. I put my hands up in the air, not wanting to enrage her further and, admittedly, kind of worried that she was going to hit me again. "Hey, it's not like I'm proud of it either. I hate her too." It wasn't quite true, though. I didn't really hate Tanya, but I didn't particularly like her either... and, honestly, I didn't feel like I could hate her after what happened. "I felt dirty afterwards, like I'd never be clean again. I touched her in places that shamed me in the morning... and the worst part is that I can't take it back. I'm stuck with her knowing me like that for eternity..." I told Lizzie quietly as I was overcome by flashes of memory that made me blink and grimace. Perhaps I'd been too honest with her, but I wanted her to know that I did genuinely regret it. "You won't find me bragging about screwing the crazy chick."

Lizzie rolled her eyes at me and muttered something about me being disgusting. Sensing her anger was diminishing (or, rather, hoping), I decided to try yet another new tactic. Her fury, while somewhat justified was, in my opinion, a bit much for me sleeping with someone stupid. It felt like she was just a bit too concerned with my sex life, and there was a bit of a possessive undertone. Liz doesn't like ceding anything to Tanya, much less me. "Well, Liz, think of it this way... She wasn't the one who taught me how," I suggested a bit too logically. I knew it was a poor argument the moment I said it, that it was breaking an unspoken rule we had to even refer to that, that it would bring up some unpleasantness... but once I'd committed to saying it, I couldn't go back.

Stunned, her eyes whipped to lock with mine. She'd stopped pacing, and her face was an odd color, pale and almost sickly-looking. She cocked a hand on her hip, throwing up her chin defiantly. Her eyes blazed with a new kind of anger, irritated and embarrassed by the reminder. "And I was?" she asked in a dangerous, expectant tone of voice.

I knew I was treading on thin ice, but I decided to go with honesty. "For pretty much everything, yeah. Besides, you were there first," I said casually, as if it wasn't a big deal. Lizzie gawked at me, speechless, as a grimace blossomed on her face. Her forehead wrinkled. She didn't want to think of me as a place or destination. "So, technically, Tanya got sloppy seconds." I told her that kind of hoping she'd laugh, but I was met instead by a stony glare.

Her glare was unrelenting, and her wrath radiated from every pore. She snapped her fingers in front of my face. "Okay, Edwin, I don't know if you've forgotten this, but I NEVER HAD SEX WITH YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE!" she damn near screamed. She then remembered where we were, that the door was open, and that anyone could hear us. A shameful flush crept over her cheeks as she suddenly slammed the door shut and locked it decisively. I raised an eyebrow. She threw me a dark look, rolling her eyes at me. "And it's not like I can go around telling Tanya that, anyways, you moron. I mean, gee, that'd only give her enough ammo to taunt me for the rest of my life!" she quipped sarcastically.

I didn't really buy that excuse either, but I couldn't see Lizzie and Tanya ever having a serious conversation. It was kind of insulting, too, the way she'd made it seem like whatever we had was... somehow ridiculous, something embarrassing like those stories your parents tell about you when you were little. It was belittling, her brushing it off as that. "First off, you won't see Tanya ever again after this year, except at the reunions. Secondly, I wasn't that bad! And don't give me that BS about us never having sex because we did everything but that, and you know it," I interjected matter-of-factly, defensively, stubbornly. Besides, it wasn't as if Lizzie actually cared what Tanya thought about her.

She made a face at me and put a hand up. "Let's negate the wrongness of that sentence for a minute and focus on what you seem to be missing... Okay?" she muttered, huffing out a sigh. "I can't just go up to her and say, "Hey, Tanya. Guess what? I had a torrid affair with my stepbrother the summer of Grade Nine, and, yeah, I know you slept with him, but I kind of taught him everything he knows... so all that you got was the benefit of my experience slash experimentation. So yay for sloppy seconds, huh?" Not going to work, Edwin," Lizzie explained, adopting a fake girly tone. Her voice was ripe with sarcasm. "I can't properly gloat over something I'm ashamed of," she added a moment later, quietly.

Sure, she'd intimated as much, but it was another thing entirely to hear her say that out loud. My response was instinctive and foolishly emotional. Her comment had stung me to the quick because I didn't like being something to be ashamed of. I was ashamed of myself, yes, for many reasons and many things, but I'd never been ashamed of that... brief liaison. I'd never looked on it like that, and, in retrospect, it's not something I tend to think about much at all. I guess it meant more to me than that, like an untouched, pristine cavern in my memory, nearly sacrosanct. And it... kind of... hurt to hear that she didn't feel the same. "Ouch... You know, thanks for reminding me why we don't talk about that," I said shortly.

Lizzie rolled her eyes, nonplussed. I spoke before she could, at least partially afraid of what she was going to say. I once again returned to the calm and rational, serious approach. It didn't seem like any of my debate techniques worked on her. I couldn't tear her argument apart because it wasn't that kind of argument, and she was a bit justified. "Seriously, though, I highly doubt she'll publicize this, Liz. She knows I was wasted and not thinking straight. She knows that's the only reason it happened, that it didn't mean anything to me," I told her tranquilly, keeping my voice as even as possible.

Unfortunately, she happened to choose that moment to give in to that feminine sympathy and camaraderie so uncharacteristic of her in regards to Tanya. "But, dumbass, it meant something to her," she said brutishly, reinforcing her statement with a hard and fast punch to the arm. It wasn't like I didn't know that, but it meant nothing to me, and what the hell could I do about that? Nothing. Furthermore, it seemed rather like a contradiction, given she'd just done something similar to me (though, admittedly, my own behavior is equally hypocritical given the circumstances). "And, you know, you don't just sleep with anyone, Ed," she continued, giving me a sideways glance. Tanya had said the same thing, and it only served to remind me of how similar they were in some respects.

Naturally, I couldn't resist a sarcastic response when it was presented to me so neatly like that. "You would know, according to anyone at school," I drawled, giving her a suggestive look that was perhaps a bit over the top. I was rewarded for my crudeness with a punch in the arm right on top of the other one. When she glanced away, I rubbed my probably now-bruised arm, but I didn't let myself make a single sound to bely my pain. I shrugged almost helpfully. "Just saying."

I knew that Lizzie was aware of the rumors and some of the things they said, but before then I'd never seen her react seriously to them. She usually took them as jokes, let them roll off her back, and then told me later so we could laugh about it, only obviously I don't find these rumors so funny anymore. "Oh, shut up. You know better. Only morons buy that," she remarked vaguely testily. I stiffened. Oh, really, Liz? Then why do my friends always ask me about it? And why does Rebecca, one of your closest friends, think I want to have sex with you, huh? Argh, probably because I do. On some subconscious level. God, I did not just say that!

While I was still spinning, trying to digest/talk myself out of/forget/repress/suppress the former completely offhand and obviously misdirected comment, Lizzie stopped and rested against the sink, thrusting her chest outwards. I tried really very hard not to look at the sight I was presented with, but it was so hard when she was there, and the bathroom felt so small. I eventually forced myself to swallow and look away because it was more important that I get this out. "But, seriously, Tanya knows it's not going to get her anywhere, talking about it," I continued, pausing for a brief moment before speaking fairly quickly. I kind of hoped that if I spoke rapidly enough, Lizzie would miss what I was about to say. "Besides, she thinks I'm in love with you anyways, and she probably knew that I was going to tell you all this anyway. So what does she achieve in telling other people, unless she actually thinks you're in love with me too and wants to make you jealous by reminding you that I slept with her?" I asked intelligently. It was perhaps a bit too much for her to wrap her mind around, and that was more or less my point, to confuse her.

Lizzie, who had been stretching with her back to me, glancing at herself in the mirror, and frowning in disapproval, stopped suddenly and whirled around to look at me. She blinked in confusion and then began to advance on me. I told myself I wasn't going to back up an inch, but we both know that when it comes to Lizzie (and life in general), that's just not true or something that happens often. "Edwin," began Liz in a deadly calm voice, pausing deliberately before carrying on, "why does Tanya think that you're in love with me?" There was a tension in that slow question, the kind of menacing tension there is whenever a mother or a wife asks you a question you thought slipped by her, and you don't particularly want to answer it.

"Because I told her I was to get her off my back," I responded immediately, ready for it and not afraid of the latent threat in her voice. Considering Lizzie's generally relaxed attitude towards the rumors about us and her fondness for poking fun at the rumors by seemingly encouraging them with her behavior, I didn't think she'd particularly mind. Besides, it wasn't as if her popularity had suffered any or that the rumors which so plagued me had any bearing on (or caused any disruption to) her life. Also, she wasn't dating anyone and didn't want to date anyone at school, given that she's in love with my brother, so it doesn't even matter.

However, Liz stopped dead in her tracks and gaped at me. I briefly wondered if that meant she thought I was actually in love with her but quickly dismissed the foolish thought when she reanimated and stalked towards me. Apparently she had just been too stunned for words, so hard was it for her to believe I told Tanya something like that. "YOU WHAT???!" she bellowed, hands finding my collar and shaking me hard, a mixture of disbelief and fury in her stony features. She looked very much like she wanted to punch me in the face.

I wasn't afraid of her, not because I didn't think she could do it or because I thought I could talk myself out of it. To put it simply, this was Lizzie, and that was that. If she hit me, I generally deserved it, and even if I didn't, as in this case, I still felt bad enough about the whole affair to probably take it. I did kind of know that she wouldn't hurt me too badly, though. Nevertheless, people like Liz can sense fear, so I learned long ago to stop showing it and then to stop expressing it, and, finally, to stop feeling fear towards her at all because she's really a great big softie at heart like Derek.

So I shrugged coolly and held up my hands in a nonthreatening manner, not like I could ever truly be threatening to Lizzie. "Well, it's not like I wanted to say that. Obviously something like that's going to come back to bite me in the ass," I told her frankly, "But it was the only thing she'd take for a no. It was the only way she'd let me get out of there... and I had to get out of there, even if had to gnaw my arm off to do it. Because apparently saying I wasn't interested wasn't reason enough." Truthfully, I thought it was better that we were having this conversation now, rather than have her be surprised by it later and think I'm actually in love with her. Now that... that would be messy and uncomfortable for all parties involved, but mostly me. And it would be painfully awkward to have that conversation.

Lizzie threw her hands in the air and gave me a dark look. "Great. Now I'm gonna be the girl whose creeper stepbrother is in love with her! Way to upgrade, Edwin!" she exclaimed sarcastically. I glared right back at her because it's ten million times worse to be the creepy stepbrother in this situation. I'm the predator, the sister-desirer, the failed lover... pathetic. She doesn't get it half as bad as I do. She doesn't have people insinuating that she wants to rape me. I found Lizzie's reaction a little melodramatic and oddly negative, and I didn't really understand what had flipped the switch and made her so pissy with me. It was like I couldn't do or say anything right, no matter how logical or correct it was.

I crossed my arms over my chest and gave her an unrelenting look. "You're being awfully hostile to me, Liz. Wanna tell me why?" I said, forcing myself to be calm and nonjudgmental, but Liz just threw me this look that said that after what I'd done, she had every right to be hostile and combative. I shook my head at her. "I have it much worse than you do, so I don't see why you're all bent out of shape about this. You do know I'm not really in love with you, right?" I continued a bit more harshly than I should've, but I just needed to get that message across to her.

She scoffed, "Of course I know that, you ignoramus." Nevertheless, the way she said it made me wonder if it wasn't all bluster, if there was even the slightest chance that she was just convincing herself it was true. Or lying to me, which all signs indicated she might be. Lizzie's hands were clenched into fists at her hips, the set of her chin stubborn, and her eyes refused to look at me. Then she looked up at me pointedly and practically spat, "But don't think it's easy being your sister."

I froze, stiff and immobile as an object at absolute zero. I was an immovable object. That comment had made me bristle. "And just what is that supposed to mean, Lizzie?" I rejoined swiftly. Lizzie remained defiantly silent, shooting me furtive, hostile glances. Her refusal to elaborate made me so furious that I was incredibly illogical. Because it was so damn hard and frustrating to be her brother, and since she's not really my blood sister, I can't give into natural sibling rivalry and at least hate her or attempt sororicide. "You think I like being your brother? You think I like having everyone I know ask me invasive personal questions about our friendship? You think I like having to take care of you, that I like being your keeper? You think it's fun for me, watching you make all the same mistakes over and over again? You think I like helping you all the time at my own expense? It's not all roses for me either," I retorted angrily.

Her face fell, but I didn't feel immediately horrible for it since she'd been nothing but mean to me since I got home. She hadn't cared at all how I felt about anything, it seemed. Soon enough, though, Liz collected herself, no longer allowing her surprise to show on her face. I didn't talk to Lizzie like that. "I'm sorry I've burdened you so much over the years, Edwin. I had no idea our relationship was such an... inconvenience... to you. Don't feel like you have to look after me anymore, because I'm a grown woman, and I can do a better job of it myself. And, since that's the way you really feel, I'll make it a whole lot easier on you by removing myself from your life. Since that's what you really want," Lizzie bit back coldly. Her eyes flashed and sizzled like blue lighting. I could hear the impending thunder in my ears.

By that point, I realized I'd made a grave mistake. I didn't not want Lizzie in my life, obviously, and the thought of a life without her was incomprehensible to me. On some levels, it might be a relief to be without her... but I'd still rather put up with all her crap than not have my best friend. Looking after Lizzie was not only my responsibility; it was something I would've done regardless because she was my best friend, not just my sister, and I was invested in her life. "That's... not what I want, Liz," I managed weakly, unable to say more. I hated how it felt like she'd seized power over my life yet again.

Lizzie, too, saw it as a victory, judging by the proud gleam in her eyes, but she wasn't going to give an inch. She raised an eyebrow coolly. "Oh, really, Edwin? Because it sure seemed like it a minute ago," she muttered tersely, refusing to back down. Oh, she wanted me to beg, and I wasn't going to do it. I was tired of being driven to desperate extremes by her. After a tense moment had passed, Liz leaned forward, a hand clasping her hip, invading my personal space. "Remember, Edwin," she breathed in a low, mocking drawl, "you need me a hell of a lot more than I need you. Where would you be without me? Six feet under?" She slapped my cheek derisively, harder than she should've, and I went cold.

My muscles were as stiff as if rigor mortis had set in, and when I drew in a deep breath, it was like I was breathing underwater. The remark had hit a little too close to home because I didn't want to think about what would've happened to me as an adolescent if I hadn't had people like Lizzie and the rest of the McDonald's in my life. I'd always been painfully aware of my isolation from the rest of my family. Derek's always ruled the household, and Marti and Derek have that special bond. Dad's clueless and forgetful, and my mother prefers studying sushi and algae to mothering. And, honestly, I kind of don't know where I'd be if Lizzie wasn't in my life. In the vacuum that was my mind, I was unable to conjure up a single thought.

It was like the universe before the Big Bang: emptiness, a void. We'd already had this damn argument, only reversed, and it wasn't something I was particularly fond of, but I didn't know what the hell to do. All I knew was that I needed to end this and end it now. "I know I screwed up, Liz, but having sex with Tanya has nothing to do with you and me... And since nothing I do is good enough to appease you, why bother? You don't want me intruding on your business and your privacy, then fine. We'll see just who needs who, Liz. Good luck trying to win my brother over on your own. When you embarrass yourself, don't come crying to me about how he doesn't love you. Have a nice life," I snarled, pushing past her and stalking upstairs.

I didn't look back. I left before she could respond, but if she had, I wouldn't have listened. I slammed the door shut behind me and locked it so no one would bother me, and then I threw off my clothes angrily, putting on some cleaner clothes I found, and then I collapsed on my bed, face-first. I didn't want to think about Lizzie at all, or what I'd just done, much less Tanya, so I screwed my eyes shut and tried to think of things that made me happy. Eventually, I realized I was too wound up to sleep like I desperately wanted and needed to (and I couldn't shower, which I would've preferred, lest I run into that she-devil), so I retreated to the solitude of my computer and the paper that should be consuming my life.

Julia sets are often reflective of varying patterns in family and social interaction, especially among females. As the littlest change in a single value, such as hormonal fluctuations, misinterpretation of behavior, or other things seemingly as minute as leaving a cabinet door open, can greatly affect connected ensuing variables, the situation can change dramatically. An example of this would be how a single action can set a woman off and cause a large argument, possibly even something resulting in estrangement or a similarly repulsive action. In this respect, Julia sets are strange repellers, rather than proper strange attractors.

I stopped when I realized I was still talking about Lizzie, and that it was discussing a concept I wasn't particularly familiar with and sounded a bit too much like pseudo-science to me. I need to do more research, because clearly if Julia sets are strange repellers, they're alike enough for one to believe that they should attract, and yet they do the opposite... Finally, I sighed and returned to bed, smothering my face in the pillow and slowly falling into a deep sleep, mind still full of things I didn't want to think about.

- Lor ;*

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