Sixteen.

Mary Anne

I cannot believe her.

I mean, I know she's on it again, I'm perfectly aware. I have not objected. Dawn's just been having a little fun. We're on vacation, after all. We're here to have fun. But we've only been here for two days, and Dawn is already... selling herself.

I know this has happened before. It's how her father and stepmother figured out she was on drugs in the first place. I don't have the full story, but I guess Carol caught Dawn in the middle of something and Dawn had admitted that she was doing it to get drugs. Something along those lines. It's all secondhand information. I overheard Sharon telling my father this tearfully late one night.

I love my sister, I truly do. This is just so disgusting. I cannot just sit back and let her do this to herself. I'm not going to let things get like they did before.

Of course, now I don't know where she is. She went running by like a flash. That was quite a while ago. Now I'm sitting in the kitchen again, where Trent, Pete, Logan, and Stacey have picked up yet another game of poker. Claudia was sitting on Pete's lap. God only knows where Mallory is, I haven't seen her at all since Logan got here.

Logan. I'm trying not to look at him at all, because for some reason, every time I do, even on accident, he seems to be staring back at me. I want to scream at him, claw his face, but of course I don't. Only Dawn knows about what happened. I intend to keep it that way. I've put up with him in the halls and in two classes for the past nine months, I can put up with him for three days. The strange thing is, he's avoided looking at me those past nine months. Now he's staring at me. I refuse to look at his face long enough to read what is in it, but I'm sensing a sort of longing. He can long all he wants. He's got Mallory. I know it.

I'm sitting on the kitchen counter, sort of off in my own world. In my hands is the third rum and coke that Trent has mixed for me. It's almost gone. He'd been sympathetic to the fact that my evil ex-boyfriend was here and my sister is apparently a hooker. It's nice to have someone feel sorry for me.

I tipped my glass back and finished what was left. As I lowered it the ice cubes clinked and Trent looked over at me. Wordlessly he folded his hand and stood up, taking my glass as he passed. This time I hopped off the counter and lumbered down the hall and up the stairs to my room. Trent followed moments later, my drink in his hand.

"That Logan guy keeps giving me dirty looks." He said, sounding irritated. He handed me my drink and sat on my bed.

I took a large gulp of my drink, not even tasting the rum anymore. "Logan's an idiot. Ignore him."

"If he keeps looking at me like that he's going to be sorry. Does he like you or something?"

I didn't answer, contemplating that "he's going to be sorry" line. I took another drink. Trent put his hand on my leg. I looked down at it for a moment, Dawn's words from last night swimming back to me. We'd promised each other to have fun on this vacation, not dwell on stupid mistakes. She didn't want me to sleep with Trent, but she wouldn't judge me.

Guilt washed over me. Oh, no. What had I done? I'd been so judgmental of her... what I said was mean. I thought back to the past few months, how cold I'd been to her, how sullen she'd been. And then, when I'd started being a sister to her again, she came out of her shell. Dawn was suddenly back to her old self, just like that. Do I really have that much of an impact on her?

Trent's hand moved up a little further, and my head swam again. Dawn forgotten, I tilted my head back and allowed him to kiss me. He's going to be sorry.

Trent can make Logan sorry.

Pulling away from Trent, I regarded him carefully. He was well built, tall, and muscular. Logan isn't exactly tiny. Trent is bigger.

"Let's go back downstairs." I murmured, standing up slowly, taking his hand. Trent looked disappointed but allowed me to lead him. I took him to the living room. The poker game had once again broken up in our absence. Stacey, Claudia, and Pete were sitting on the couch, watching T.V. Logan was not in sight. And finally, there was Mallory, stretched out on the loveseat. I met her eyes briefly, but she looked away. Trent sat in a recliner and pulled me into his lap. I glanced around the room casually. Stacey looked uncomfortable. Claudia was wrapped up in Pete. Mallory stared at the T.V.

I hear the front screen slam shut, and Logan strides through the foyer. He pauses, looking directly at me. At Trent. I glance sideways at Trent, and enjoy the harsh look on his face. He and Logan remained locked in a stare for a few seconds, until I gently turn Trent's head toward my own and kiss him. With a soft grunt, Logan walks out of the foyer and into the kitchen.

Once, long, long ago, I had put my arm around Dawn and laughed, just because Kristy could see me. I did it to spite her. To make her jealous. Dawn had realized what I was doing and gotten upset because I was using her. I never felt I was using her. It was just convenient.

I'm using Trent. He probably knows it. Neither of us care.

We stay in the living room, watching T.V. and occasionally nuzzling each other. Trent gets up once, to make me my fifth drink. While he is gone I stare at Mallory, willing her to look back, because I want to see the guilt I know must be in her eyes. I almost want to dare her to go into the kitchen, where I know Logan is still sitting. I finish my drink quickly, and when Trent get's up to make me another one, I follow him.

Logan's eyes are on us the entire time. I ignore him, but Trent shoots a hard look his way every once in a while. When he's done stirring my drink, I lean into him and he kisses me again, this time fiercely, almost angrily, because now he wants to piss off Logan, too. I can feel Logan's eyes burning into my back, and I shiver a little. I don't want him looking at me anymore. I don't want to be in the same room as him. I whisper to Trent that we should go back upstairs, but I know Logan has heard me. My back is still to him, but Trent's eyes leave mine and look over my head, toward the kitchen table. The look on his face is not one of anger, but of gloating. Logan's slimy stare is still on my back. As I walk up the stairs, I attempt to shake it off, but it's there, on me, sticking to me. As I enter my room, this time with Trent in the lead, my inhibitions disappear in a blur of alcohol and anger. I pull my shirt over my head immediately, willing Logan's eyes off of me. The slimy feeling begins to dissipate as Trent runs his hands down my bare back, kissing my neck. I sighed, happy to be rid of it.

I need to get Logan off of me.

He's been on me for over a year now. No matter how much I shower, how much I scrub, I can feel him. That slimy, disgusting feeling. Trent's hands warmed my back and rid me of Logan's eyes. Silently, I prayed that it might work all over. I led Trent to my bed and switched off the lamp. I slipped quickly out of my shorts. Trent was speaking, whispering, but I paid him no attention. I lay down on my bed and Trent was touching me everywhere. My skin warmed at his touch, and I hoped that this was Logan coming off of me.

I couldn't really see anything, the night was even darker than normal because of storm clouds and fog. I can feel Trent, though, now shedding his own clothes, his skin touching mine. My body on fire, I wrapped my arms around him, willing Logan out of my head. I don't want to think about him. I don't want him to be here for this. Trent slipped inside of me and I gasped, a deep, shuddering breath. It hurt. It didn't hurt like the last time, but it hurt. Trent paused, and asked me if I was okay. Biting my lip, I answer as best as I can, groaning an "Mmm-hmm," knowing that if I open my mouth I might say no, might tell him to stop. So he continues, slowly, gently. Tears threaten in the backs of my eyes but I fight them, pulling Trent closer to me. Go away. Just go away.

A phone is ringing.

My eyes slide open slowly, and I'm hit by a wave of nausea. The alcohol, the five some-odd drinks I consumed tonight, have not forgotten me. I glimpse the alarm clock on the dresser from the corner of my eye. It's flashing, 12:43, 12:43, 12:43. I hear the wind thrashing outside. The power must have gone out. Forty-three minutes ago, it would seem.

The phone is still ringing. It's not my cell phone. My phone plays "Love Song" by 311 when it rings. 50 First Dates is one of my all-time favorite movies.

Beside me, I hear a soft snore. It must be Trent's cell phone. The ringing stops, but I shake him gently anyway. It has to be three in the morning at the very least. The call is probably important.

"Trent?" I say softly, sitting up a little. I wince at the pain in my thighs. He doesn't respond. "Trent?" I say a little more loudly.

"Hmm?" He moans, just as his phone begins ringing again. I turn on the light and look over at him. He's squinting, blinking rapidly. He coughs and sits up, looking around the room. "Where is it?"

I point to his pants on the floor beside me and lie back down as he reaches over me to grab them. He turns off the light again as he comes back up, and I'm glad for it. I close my eyes, uncaring of why his phone is ringing. I'm exhausted.

Trent answers his phone quietly, but I can hear the person on the other end talking loudly. I turn over and attempt to bury myself in the blanket.

"Okay, okay, relax, John. I'll be right there." Trent sounded a little panicked. I opened my eyes again and watched him snap his phone shut, the room glowing oddly in it's light. "Mary Anne, get up. It's your sister."

I bolted upright.

Dawn.