Recap: "What? What? That is just ridiculous! How can you take her side so easily?! Ohmigod, don't be stupid! She's trying to trick you! She just—"

"Roxanne, just save it," Max said. "I-I'll talk to you later—"

"Listen to me now," Roxanne said, sounding desperate. Her knees weakened, and Max winced, not wanting to be so mean.

"Max…" Mona groaned.

"I promise, I'll talk to you later," he whispered quietly, looking away and bringing Mona back into the apartment.

Roxanne's knees gave way and her rear hit the ground.

Warning: Implied lust. [Sorry, I've been reading an ecchi manga Dx]

Chapter 8:

She wouldn't have known how long she would have stood there if not a voice called out to her. It was silent, unstable and barely audible. But the state Roxanne was currently in, which was one of an abandoned man drowning helplessly at sea, made it easy for her to respond.

"Roxanne…?"

"Who…what?" She whirled around in search of the source of the voice, but no one was there. No one answered either. Now she felt as if her heart was going to break, and as she heaved over, her chest began to contract, and she might have been sobbing dryly. But she wasn't. She didn't feel well at all. She wanted to puke.

Not wanting to be seen in this state, she forced herself off the ground. She limped weakly to her apartment, and shut the door. As soon she entered the dim room, intentions of getting cleaned up suddenly vanished, however, and she collapsed into a divan.

And here we quietly leave Roxanne.

Mona might have whimpered, "Don't leave me," but she didn't because she felt too well to need someone in the room with her. Overcome with self satisfaction, her breathing slowed and she fell asleep.

Max didn't want to get into the room next door. Instead, he grabbed his jacket and stumbled out the door. Cursing, he rubbed the leg he banged against the door frame, and, hands deep inside his pockets, went for a walk.

He recollected everything from what happened after leaving high school. Stacie and Bobby were in the dating scene, PJ and that girl in the beret were rumored to be engaged; Sylvia Marpole—or should he say his stepmother and his father were on a trip to celebrate their anniversary—dammit, why did he suddenly feel lonely? Alright, alright, so did PJ become some sort of saloon performer or whatever? And then did Bobby start studying again? Hehe.

Pfeh. Bradley must have gained his parents' whole inheritance, and never needed to work. Well. Come to think of it, what had Roxanne been doing at his place?

…There was a sinking feeling in Max's stomach, and he suddenly felt reluctant thinking about Roxanne.

He had walked farther than he meant to. He hailed a taxi and told him the address of the subdivision. As soon as he climbed into the seat he leaned against the window and gazed desolately at the misty gray sky outside. It wasn't even dark out yet, but it seemed as if a cloud was hovering above him, shadowing his every move.

"Uh wait, could you stop here?" Max suddenly said, jerking upright. Up ahead he saw a tall mansion that was obvious Bradley's. He had the sudden urge to go pay him a visit, as much as he didn't want to see the jerk's rotten face.

The driver turned, looking tiredly at Max with crocodile eyes, but held out his pudgy fingers to collect the money. Max scuffled around with his pockets as he slowly stepped out of the car. He started to perspire cold sweat, embarrassed. He didn't bring any money, and all he had was a few quarters.

"Um…" Max trailed off nervously. He started to back away from the car, and the driver's crocodile eyes widened with anger as he began to comprehend the situation.

"Oh, shit!" Max took off just as the driver lunged at him, and he sped away as the driver fumbled with his keys and cursed as he struggled to start the car. This gave Max plenty of time to get ahead, and the car was just at his heels with the unfocused lights as Max darted into a dim corner. Gasping for breath, he stared cautiously after the car and let two seconds pass before he stepped out.

"Just my luck," he muttered, beginning to walk again, only coming face to face with Bradley Uppercrust.

"Goof," Uppercrust said; his nose upturned. If he was surprised to see Max, he was doing a good job of hiding it.

"Uppercrust." Their expressions were contrasted; as Max appeared to look bored, Uppercrust seemed interested, and while his eyes were malicious he also seemed rather pleased. Max, on the other hand, had on a dark look.

"Fancy seeing you here. Would you like to come inside?" Bradley accompanied the question with a quirked brow.

"No thanks. I'd like to speak with you."

"Well we can't just talk at the entrance of the fence, now can we?" went Bradley. "Come on, I've got some seats on the porch; we can talk there."

Max shrugged, never once taking his hands out of his pockets. He took care to whack against Bradley with his shoulder as he treaded down towards the porch. Facing away from Max, a look of intense and maniacal fury rose on Bradley's face, but he wiped it off as he turned to follow Max, who was already taking his seat.

"Now what was it you wanted to talk about?" asked Bradley, leaning on his elbows over the round, white coffee table between them.

"About what happened earlier today." Max was leaning back on his chair, continuing to glare at his enemy. "What did you do with Roxanne?"

"Well, what do you think, my dear boy?" Bradley lifted himself off his elbows and leaned back as if to more thoroughly survey his companion.

"I don't know. I'm asking you." For the first time, Max smirked with a half-lidded gaze. "I don't suppose you had tea and cookies."

"Why, didn't she look bloated when she came back?"

Max's expression fell. What she looked like when she came back.

"Crumpled taffeta skirt?" Bradley said, enjoying himself as he teased Max. "Barefoot? Bed hair? Loose strings on her corset—"

"Shut UP!" Max suddenly shouted and Bradley almost fell off his chair in surprise. He composed himself easily, however, but his expression was sterner as he looked at Max again. He was already lifting himself off the chair in a huff. "I'm going home," he announced in a low voice.

"And how will you do that?" Bradley asked, stopping Max in his tracks. So he had seen what had happened earlier. Max wasn't surprised at all, but felt humiliated.

"I'll give you a ride home," Bradley said, and his voice, for once, didn't ooze with smugness.

And well, what was Max going to do, refuse and embarrass himself further?

Max chose the farthest row away from Bradley, who was driving.

The only interaction exchanged between the two was Bradley attempting to say something, and Max saying, "Shut up and drive."

And so, with a single shrug of his shoulders, Bradley did.

Max kept trying to fend him off, but Bradley managed to escort him all the way till his door was up ahead. As they drew near, silently bickering, Roxanne was spotted on the steps, looking nervously at Max.

Over the white dress she tugged a zipped up, teal-colored sweater over herself. The sleeves reached her fingers, and as she meekly descended the steps, she looked like a child.

"Max?" she said nervously. "C…can we talk now?" She was quiet but determined.

"Ehm…" Max scratched the back of his head and looked away. All right, sure, fine were all things he wanted to say, but now he felt a little queasy; particularly below the belt.

Oh crap. He shook the thoughts out of his head immediately. "All right," he managed to croak. "But then I have to check with…" His eyes strayed to the door of his apartment.

"Ah, Mona," Bradley said, coming out of the shadows. Roxanne instinctively winced. The step backward she made with her worn sneakers, sockless, made almost no sound. But Bradley only looked at her for less than a split second, and whatever was in his eyes—malice? A glint? A dark look? Impassiveness?—flitted over his gaze. "I can stay with her, if you'd like." He looked confident, with narrow eyes, a wide mouth and an upturned chin.

Max looked very unwilling, but turned his head and practically slapped the keys onto his palm as if the mere touch would burn him. "Keys to the apartment," he said shortly, and walked away with Roxanne carefully following close behind.

They found themselves in the park, without saying much. It was starting to get dark as they settled down, both on different sides of a bench. Roxanne was obviously tense, and she sat with her knees and ankles together, with her hands on her lap. Max, on the other hand, had a very relaxed sitting position, though he was practically lying down as he slouched boredly at his end, cheek resting on his palm.

Yes, both were very uneasy.

"Max—"

"Roxa—"

Both lifted their heads at the exact same moment, and both spoke at the exact same time. "Eh!"

"Oh, sorry, you go first," Max said apologetically, a bit panicky as he lifted himself upright.

"N-no, I didn't mean to cut you off…"

Silence.

"So…" Roxanne inserted her index finger between her pudgy lips. "I guess I should begin… you know, explaining my behavior."

"Yeah, I think you should too."

Roxanne winced.

Dammit! Max was sweating again. Why was he being so cold?

"W-well," Roxanne began in a scratchy voice. "First… I'd like to say that… well, Mona isn't the person you think she is."

Her words hung in the dead air.

"I-I mean," her voice got stronger as she moved from sentence to sentence. "Mona… you and Mona aren't that secure, are you?"

"What?"

Oh crap. She didn't mean to offend him "What I mean is, you relationship with Mona isn't very secure." Her fists clenched on her knees. "Or at least, she doesn't think it is." She looked at him determinedly, but was sorry she even lifted her head because her face only fell again at the sight of his hard expression.

Two seconds passed. He stood up. "You want a drink?" he blankly asked, reaching for the coins in his pocket.

"What?"

"There's a vending machine way over there." He smiled faintly as he pointed in its direction. "I-it's not far."

"Oh," went Roxanne, impressed that he could see it well even in the dark. "Well… sure."

"A-anything you want?"

"Juice in a can. Cherry, if it's not too much…"

"Nah," he said, and jogged off.

Roxanne stared after him, and felt as if she was floating as she watched his retreating back.

"Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Damn it all to hell."

Max crouched beside the vending machine, clutching his abdomen. "That look," he muttered, I can't stand it. Ugh! I can't get it, either! Why do I want to bully her so much?

His groin contracted again for a moment, and he stood up. He roved over the glass door with his eyes and finally located a soft drink cherry flavored. He hesitated, then bought two of them. He picked them up and slowly began his journey back to the bench.

"No, no, no, take what you want from my pockets, please, please, just let me g—"

Her mouth was immediately sealed with a dirty, dirty-tasting cloth. Her red hair was tumbling in waves all around her, and the man on top of her was pinning her wrists down. His companions surrounded them.

"Don't worry, doin' this on a cold bench is more exciting than in someone else's bed." His knee moved higher between her legs until it was just between her knees.

Through her blurred eyesight, Roxanne could see the perpetrator. He seemed uglier and dirtier than anyone she had ever seen; he was stick thin and looked like a street dog as well. His cronies looked no better.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she let out one last whine through the gag.

And her eyes remained shut as the sounds changed, as the weight on top of her was lifted, as there were grunts and curses in the background. Thumps, kicks, punches and then the sounds of heavy feet running away. Finally, she had the strength to open her eyes and almost cried when she saw who she expected to be standing before her. Max.

"Max—"

"What were you thinking?!" he yelled, and she fell backwards again as if she was punched in the face. She looked at him slowly. He was sporting a bloody lip, and there was a small bruise located at the temple. He clutched right arm with the other, as if it had exerted too much force just then. Other than that, he did not appear to be any more injured, as the guys who were with her weren't very athletic anyway.

"Why didn't you try to defend yourself? Or scream?" he reprimanded her, nostrils flaring.

"I-I, I was scared," she said, "and outnumbered." Her gaze strayed to her knees as she shifted into a sitting position once more. "And, well, I guess I did try to scream but it never really crossed my mi…" she let her words trail away.

There was a short pause, and Max spoke again. "Do you like being taken advantage of?" he harshly asked.

Her head snapped up. "Of course not!" she cried.

"Well, I don't know about that!" he yelled back. "I don't understand you. At first you seem all feisty, then incredibly weak, and then excruciatingly unbearable. You make it way too easy to take advantage of you."

"What are you trying to say?" she said, her eyes filling up again.

He paused and looked at her, but didn't look her straight in the eye. "I'm saying you're a slut."

There was a silence as the wind blew leaves in and out of their hair. Max was glaring at her, and Roxanne looked bewildered, never knowing Max would actually say such a thing.

And then she stood up.

"Hey, where are you going?!" he called, trying to catch up with her. She raised her arm to call a taxi and one appeared in an instant.

"Where are you going?!" he protested, trying to keep the door open.

"A friend's house," she almost hissed as she wrenched the door out of his grasp. But just before she slammed it shut she said one last thing, and in a quiet, meek voice it was.

"Don't forget to soak that lip and bruise, okay."

And the car sped off.

"Damn it!"

Max had kicked the vending door so hard it hurt. And now he was going to walk home. But with his mind whirling with thoughts, it didn't take him as long. As he walked up, he fumbled for the keys, but remember that they were with Bradley. Ugh. Just as he raised his fist to knock, he heard sounds.

"Mona, I'm uncomfortable with doing this here."

"Oh come on, it'll be fine anywhere, I want this, you, now."

Max ran around to the window and caught sight of the silhouettes inside.

"No, I really think we shouldn't…"

Max angrily struck the window, creating a spider web crack on the glass, and the two lifted their heads. Max quickly ran to the door as the two figures inside righted in panic. He forced himself inside, breaking the chain on the door, and grabbed Mona's forearm before she had a chance to pull on her crumpled shirt. She had only time to grab the blanket as he threw her out the door. She fell on her knees, staining her skirt with dew.

"M-Max, I-I can explain," she stammered, as her head whirled with lies. Which story, which story? And then Bradley appeared behind Max, so she pointed at him.

"It's his fault!" she cried. "He forced me to take my shirt off, and he, he wanted to—"

"Don't you think I saw you on top of him!" he yelled.

"No, no, he forced me to do those things, he…" But Bradley shook his head at her, and Max was already grabbing the boxes that held her things inside. Thankfully they hadn't completely unpacked yet. He threw them out of the door, at her, and all her clothes and things rained down on her. He kept throwing until he was rid of every box in sight. He slammed the door and turned the lights off. Mona began to hold back tears as she wearily reached for the things nearest her.

After a few seconds, Bradley knelt and began to help her, randomly placing her things in the boxes. He cared to stray not too close to her, which made her holding tears even more difficult.

For the first time in a long time, Mona felt shame.

Upstairs in the dark, Max buried his head in his pillow and bawled.