Buttercup's Point of View (At the Mall With Mitch) –

"So what did you want, Mitch?" I asked as we walked towards the parking lot.

"I wanted to show you a little something."

I nodded slowly, guessing what he could possibly want to show me. He noticed my curious expression and grinned. Not a smirk, but a genuine smile.

"You have a car?" I suddenly asked. He smirked. This couldn't be good.

"It's more like my dad's car."

"Oh…"

What was I doing? Am I losing my mind? I barely know Mitch, and here I am, about to hitch a ride with him, going to some mystery place! Professor would kill me—that is, if Blossom didn't first.

"Get in."

I looked up to see a huge, onyx black Avalanche (type of vehicle) with frosty white rims. The tires were so damn huge; I didn't even know how to get in!

Upon seeing my perplexed expression, Mitch chuckled as he lifted me by my waist. I let out a startled yelp as he elevated me into my seat.

"You okay?" he asked, amused.

"Yeah, yeah—wait. Do you know how to drive?"

"…Yeah."

His hesitation to answer my question made me slightly apprehensive. But I liked a good thrill every once in a while.

He walked over to the driver's seat and hopped in, sticking the key into the ignition. He grabbed his iPod and plugged it in, turning the volume up.

"Hope you like 3OH!3," he said, winking.

I bobbed along to the beat of the song as he whipped out of the parking lot. His driving scared me a bit, considering the fact that he sped past about three red lights before we got to our destination. I looked out of the glossy window. We were at some kind of club.

"Ever been here before?" he asked, cutting off the engine.

"Never been in a club. What is this place?"

"The Expressway. It's pretty fun."

That last sentence chilled me a bit.

"How'd you even get in?"

He grinned deviously and pulled a card out of his pocket, holding it out for me to marvel at it.

"Fake ID. What are you, BC? A rookie?"

"Please. That's not that bad. I've done things much worse," I boasted. He snorted a laugh before opening his car door.

"We'll see about that, Butter-butt."

I rolled my eyes at him and slammed the car door open and hopped out.

"How am I gonna get in?" I asked curiously.

"I'll tell them you're with me."

I shrugged and followed him to the entrance. A huge bodyguard clad in a black and white tuxedo with dark sunglasses.

"Hey, Rob. She's with me," Mitch said to the man, handing him a twenty-dollar bill. Wonder where he got that? Huh.

"Alright, Mitch, you're in."

Mitch grabbed me by my wrist and gently pulled me into the club. It had flashing, neon blue lights on the ceiling. The music was blaring the song 'Get Crazy' by LMFAO.

Surrounding us were hundreds of gyrating people, moving and grinding against one another to the rhythm. He pulled me over to the bar and I sat down on one of the blue and black stools.

"Mitch! What can I get for you and your lady tonight? Anything—on the house!" the bartender greeted as he leaned over the bar, winking at me. How old was this guy, anyway?

"What do you want, Buttercup?" Mitch asked.

"Nothing. I'm not thirsty."

He chuckled.

"Surely you aren't afraid of a little drink, huh?" he taunted.

"No, I just know better than that."

"Suit yourself," he sneered.

"Dylan, I'll have the regular."

"Alright, Mitch, Coming right up."

And with that, the bartender turned to prepare Mitch's drink.

"What is the 'regular' for you, anyway?" I asked.

"Oh, just something to get the load off my mind."

I shuddered at what his words meant. I just hoped that he wouldn't get drunk. Not tonight, anyway. I had always heard about tales of people drunk driving and what happened afterward.

When the bartender arrived, he slammed the glass on the table in front of Mitch. Mitch brought the glass to his lips and took a long, hard swig.

"Having fun there?" I asked sarcastically when he finally set the glass down.

"Not as much as I could be having."

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

He took the whole damn glass to the head, bottoms up, before placing the empty glass back on the table, smiling like a goon.

"I mean the kind of fun we could be having on the dance floor."

And with that, he snatched me up by my wrist, squeezing until it hurt a bit. When we got to the dance floor he let me go, turned me around, and gripped me by my waist firmly. As the beat sped up, he began rolling his pelvis towards mine, holding me close so I couldn't escape. How much was in that drink, anyway?

"You like this, don't you?" he breathed into my ear, the smell of alcohol burning my nostrils.

"Not really."

He cupped my thighs in each of his hands and grinded his way down, then crept back up, his body never leaving mine, and licked my earlobe.

"What the fuck is your problem, Mitch?" I asked, pushing him away.

"Just let loose, babe. You're too stiff."

I began to fire a punch straight at his jaw, but he grabbed my fist with his large hand, gripping down as hard as he could. I let out a gasp of pain as he let my hand go before grabbing my butt and pulling me closer to him. When our face was just barely an inch apart, he closed the short distance and pressed our lips together. His tongue pried my mouth open and explored every crevice, pushing us closer together until we couldn't get any closer. The taste of alcohol nearly made me throw up. The scent and the taste were so strong—no wonder the kid was on cloud nine.

When he finally let me go, I stumbled back a bit, bumping into a nearby table.

"Mitch—I need to go. Now."

"No you don't," he replied as he stumbled towards me.

"Mitch, stop it! You—"

Mitch suddenly pushed me on top of the table and forced my legs open, leaning on top of me, in between my legs.

"GET OFF OF ME!" I shouted, kicking and flailing wildly. He pressed me against the table and began to tug at the bottom of my shirt, a goofy smile plastered on his face, flicking his tongue against his lips.

I reached up and punched him in the side of his jaw, causing him to stagger backwards. I tried to get up from the table and run, but his firm grip closed onto my wrist. I looked up at him, my eyes desperate.

"Let me go, Mitch! Please!"

He smirked and pinned me up to the wall.

"Why are you being such a bitch, Buttercup? Damn!"

I scowled at him and kicked him in his crotch, wasting no time to watch him topple backwards clumsily into a chair. I darted off for the exit and ran hard and fast until I was far away from the Expressway. Gasping for air, I sat down on the soft grass and looked up at the sky. It was pretty dark, and clouds were beginning to roll in. A barely audible, low rumble of thunder threatened a rainstorm. Great.

I looked around to make sure no one was around. And then, seeing that no one would be out this late, I took off into the dark gray sky, leaving a strip of lime green against the colorless background. The thought of getting away from Mitch's drunken ass accelerated my speed farther and farther until I reached my window. Thinking that I was safe, I flew in and landed on my bed.

"And just where were you?"

Dammit.

I turned to a furious Blossom and a worried Bubbles. The tearstains on her pink cheeks indicated that she had been crying.

"I was just—"

"Do you know how late it is?"

"No…I was-"

"It's 1:06, Buttercup! Where the hell were you?" Bubbles screamed, her voice shrill and frightened.

"I didn't know it was that late! Damn!"

"Answer the damn question!" Bubbles squealed, throwing Octi down and stepping up to me, more tears rolling down her cheeks. I felt horrible, making Bubbles worried and scared like this. She was usually so happy, so peaceful—she never dared to raise her voice. I must have really made her angry.

"I was at the Expressway!" I answered furiously.

"The club?" Blossom asked, her hand on her chin thoughtfully.

"What were you doing at a club…?" Bubbles asked, too hurt to scream.

"I was with Mitch…"

"What? Buttercup, I don't want you hanging out with him anymore!" Blossom commanded.

"You're not my mother!"

"But I am your older sister!"

"I don't give a fuck who you are!"

Blossom gasped in astonishment as her face grew red. Bubbles lowered herself into a huddle against the wall, tears streaming in a steady river down her flushed cheeks, her face in her arms, her knees brought up into a fetal position. She resembled a frightened child whose parents were fighting. But in a way, we were like parents to her. We were older than Bubbles, and she looked up to us in a way that made me feel immature fighting in front of her like this. I felt like I had let her down. But at the same time, I wasn't backing down from Blossom.

"You ungrateful bitch!" Blossom roared viciously.

"I'll show you a bitch!" I threatened, stepping towards her.

"Stop it! Please, stop!" Bubbles squeaked, her blonde pigtails strewn everywhere, her eyes red from tears.

She stood up cautiously, rubbing her tired eyes.

"Please. Just stop…"

Then, glancing at me, her teal eyes reflecting her pain, she pleaded:

"Buttercup… just tell us… please."

I sighed and retold the whole story from the mall to now, leaving no details out.

"Did Mitch hurt you?" Blossom asked, a worried expression on her face.

"No… he was drunk."

She nodded suspiciously.

"I'm…I'm sorry…"

"It's okay," Blossom accepted.

For the first time tonight, Bubbles smiled as Blossom and I hugged each other.

"Oh, yeah. Butch came over today."

"What?" I asked, not sure if I heard correctly.

"Butch came by. Butch Jojo. Funny, I thought he was at the mall with you guys."

"He was…."

"Oh…well, he said his brothers wanted to meet us, so he brought them and left."

"Oh, yeah, I remember meeting them. Brick and Boomer, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"And I think Bubbles has a crush on Boomer…."

"Nu-uh!"

"Uh-huh."

"Whatever!" Bubbles protested playfully.

"Butch just brought them then left?"

"Uh-huh. He said he didn't feel good. Had a stomachache or something. So he just brought them and left."

"Why'd he bring them?"

"He said his brothers were driving him crazy—moping about their girlfriends breaking up with them. So he brought them—he also said something about how he loves to make people happy but some people just don't realize how much he cares for them."

"Oh. He was probably just pissed off about something," I replied nonchalantly, thinking of possible reasons why he could have been acting so somber.

"Anyway—describe them."

"You actually wanna hear about boys?"

"You have ten minutes maximum starting now."

"Well, Brick has auburn hair like mine, but he always wears this red hat backwards. He had on red Nike blazers, cargo shorts, and a red tee shirt. His eyes were a fiery scarlet. We talked about the Student Council for hours! Turns out they were in our classes all along! He's so intelligent and intellectual, and we're both going to try out for drama next Tuesday.

We just didn't notice them, I guess."

Bubbles cleared her throat.

"Well, Boomer is so kind and gentle. He has this soft blonde hair with bangs, and he has these sapphire blue eyes. He's so polite and sweet. He had on a navy and white Ralph Lauren polo shirt with jeans and black Nike airs.

Turns out he's trying out for the football team this Friday! And I get to watch him—I'm trying out for cheerleading the same day! Isn't that cool?"

I grinned. I was genuinely happy for my sisters.

"I'm glad for you guys—you were so lonely before," I teased.

"Whatever. Just glad you're okay."

"Group hug!" Bubbles declared happily.

Though I was happy for them, I was tired.

I dismissed them out of my room and went to bed.