The girl’s eyes narrowed. “What about him? You want me to help you get back into his bed?”
“You sure don’t beat around the bush, do you…”
“Answer my question or get the fuck out.”
“Fair enough…” So much for tact. “I want to be with DJ. I’m 95% sure. Look, this is… you’re naked and everything. At least let me come in and talk to you in private. If you change your mind at any point, I’ll leave, no worries. Just let me in. Please?”
Slowly, the girl nodded and stepped back, Brittney following and closing the door behind them. Here she was, sealed into a tiny room with a possibly crazy and definitely nude girl she barely knew. Emily made no move to cover herself; she just stood there, hands on hips, waiting with a defiant expression.
“Well geez, where to start. So… all right, I know you and DJ and Ashley had some kind of… arrangement, between the three of you.”
“How the hell do you know about that?”
“Um, I live like forty feet away from his room. You guys aren’t quiet. Or subtle. Which is fine,” she added quickly.
“All right, so we fucked loud. So what?”
“Not just the, uh, fucking,” Brittney said. She’d never liked that word; she could use it with guys easily as part of her toolkit, but in conversation it always made her feel dirty. “I mean… well, let me just come out and say it.”
“Yeah, please.”
“I know you were DJ’s… um, sex… slave?” She couldn’t make herself say it without turning it into a question. “And I know you and he had that… falling out, the other day.”
“What the fuck is it to you.” Emily took a step forward.
“I guess… well, I wondered how you’re doing. I know it’s not my business, and I know we’re not friends and really I don’t even know you other than from seeing you around a lot lately and that probably doesn’t count and all but…” she paused to breathe, “I worried. About you.”
Emily regarded her inscrutably. “You don’t know anything about me. What do you care what happens to me.”
“Because you seem like a good person.”
There was a long silence; she hoped she hadn’t misjudged or misspoken. Emily neither replied nor indicated she was going to lash out, so Brittney continued, as gently as she could, like trying to treat a wounded animal. “Can I ask you something?” When Emily didn’t say no, she dove in. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why were you with DJ. If you don’t mind my saying so, he seemed like he was pretty hard on you sometimes. I know Ashley was. Why would you put up with all that? Was it a sex thing, or… something else?”
Emily glared. “What, you wanna try to get into my head, figure me out so you can try to use me for your little game? You’re plenty hot enough to convince him to fuck you on your own—you don’t need me, blondie.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want. I just wanted to know—no angles, no strings.”
Emily allowed another long silence to pass before she sat down on her bed. Naked as she was and unladylike as she sat, it was awkward looking, but Brittney didn’t want to lose her now over an issue of propriety.
When she opened her mouth to speak, the girl didn’t stop for nearly an hour.
Brittney listened as she poured her heart out—about how she’d been raised in a strict, conservative household, how angry she’d been at DJ for what happened with her family after the picture leaks, how much worse she’d felt for being angry at him. How she’d felt like she had in church school as a kid, guilty and inadequate and desperate to live right to make up for it. The things she’d done for Ashley and DJ, the girl’s sick thrills at humiliating and abusing her. How much she hated her for it—and how much she’d come to be excited by it. How her entire life had been warped unrecognizable in just a few short months, and in spite of it all, how much she wished she could find a way to make things right.
Emily had started crying almost as soon as she began talking, and didn’t let up. At some point, Brittney had settled in beside her and handed her some tissues. By the time she finished the story, Brittney barely noticed her nudity any more. She was just a broken-hearted woman without a friend in the world.
“Then this morning,” she finished, “Ashley, she…” Emily glanced at her trash can, then shook her head. “Nevermind. I just… I’m done. I got nothing left, that’s it. So there you go, there’s your answer. I’m a fucked-in-the-head sex slave without a master doing it for my soul’s salvation.”
“That old cliché,” Brittney said dryly.
Emily actually laughed a little. “So what about you? I know you and he fooled around—I mean, obviously, a guy like DJ living down the hall from a hottie like you… not that there are other guys like DJ. But you know what I’m trying to say. Why are you interested? Is it… is it the same as me?”
Brittney took a deep breath; she’d been so engrossed in the tale, she hadn’t really processed it. She barely even knew what she wanted herself. The journaling had helped make some sense of it, but it was not a situation bound by the dictates of logic.
“Maybe? I don’t know. I think… I don’t think I’m as bad off as you. Not judging—not at all. But what he and I have done didn’t hurt me like he hurt you. I was uncomfortable sometimes, a little embarrassed on occasion, but… that’s all.”
“Lucky you.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Brittney said. “And plus, I’ve been through a lot of it before, so it’s kind of familiar, in a way.”
“Familiar? You’ve met another guy with the power to make people put up with everything he does?”
“Actually… kind of.” She hadn’t really meant to, but after Emily’s out-pouring, she felt bad being unwilling to reciprocate—and so she did. She started with how she’d met DJ, how he’d taken her home, all the things they’d done. How some of it had been fun, and some of it had been terrifying to watch unfold. How sometimes he reminded her of Earl—and then, that lead into one of the first times she’d ever told another person about her step-father.
Eventually, somewhere between the time he’d come into the shower with her and the time he’d grabbed her ass in front of her friends at her high school graduation party, she shook her head. “I’m sorry—I know this wasn’t supposed to be about my issues. I’m not trying to one-up you or anything.”
“No, it’s OK,” Emily said. “I don’t mind.”
Brittney smiled and dabbed at some stray tears. “So, I guess where I meant to go with all that, was that I’ve seen men like that, guys who just take what they want and don’t give a fuck about anyone else. And I’ve seen DJ be that kind of guy.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“But,” Brittney went on, “I’ve also seen him try to be kind. To look for ways to help people.” She told Emily about when she first met him, his floor program where he talked about partying safely.
“I give my girls the same talk,” Emily said. “I’ve had a few tell me it helped.”
“Yeah. And not just before he, you know, got his power or whatever. I mean, he could treat me however he wanted—but he’s been… I don’t know how to describe it.”
“Didn’t you say he loaned you out to his sister’s friend? That he had you blow him in the cafeteria?” Emily frowned.
“Yeah, he did. He’s not been perfect. And… that’s the thing. Part of me thinks that was him adjusting? Like, figuring out what he could do with his gift. And before he could get it out of his system, Ashley stepped in and twisted him around her finger, and… well, we both know what that’s been like.”
“We sure the fuck do.”
“Ugh. I just don’t know. Part of me knows… I guess it’s not humble or whatever, but I know what I look like. How guys see me. And part of me thinks maybe I could try to, I dunno, be enough for him? So he won’t need other girls, won’t go around doing all those things he’s been doing.”