All The Girls Hate Her
The room smells like blood and my wrists are starting to chafe. Faith keeps pacing. Door, kitchen, bedroom, door. I've been sitting here for at least a half hour, maybe more, but I don't know how long I was knocked out. Long enough for her to prop me in to a chair and tie my hands behind my back before I woke up. I try to strain my neck to see if Wes is still breathing in the corner behind me, but I can't turn that far.
"Faith."
Silence.
"Faith."
Still pacing.
I put on my best "sincere" voice. "Faith, really, all we want to do is help you."
"Angel won't help me."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm going to kill him."
Ok. So that explains a lot. I try a different approach. "You never learn, do you? Angel's done nothing but try to help you from the beginning. We all have. But I'm through trying 'cause it's obvious that you're way beyond redemption."
She pauses for a moment, then turns to me. "This has nothing to do with redemption. I'm getting paid for this bit of fun." Wolfram & Hart. Crap, I knew they couldn't stay away for long.
"Damn it, Faith! My arms are going numb and what kind of sick person carries rope with them anyway? 'Cause I know you didn't find it lying around here."
She stops again and this time I notice the knife in her hand. I try and take deep breaths to hide the shaking of my voice.
"Angel's gonna find you and kick your skinny ass back to Boston. Don't you get it? No one cares anymore. No one missed you while you were being coma girl. In fact, we pretty much forgot you existed. Whatever little melodrama you're trying to involve Angel in, give it up. 'Cause this whole, 'I'm bad to the bone, look at me in my leather pants, no one understands me' bit is older than the Guess jeans I had in 6th grade."
I can't watch her anymore - the pacing back and forth is making me seasick.
"Shut up. I'm thinking," she says.
"Trying to think of a way out of this? Not gonna happen." I put on my brave voice, but the truth is, I'm the one tied up, and she's the one thanking the Academy for the crazy nomination.
She stops and looks at me like she's just seeing me for the first time. I notice that her lips are moving, she's whispering under her breath like she's trying to tell herself a secret. It reminds me of the way the homeless guy outside Starbucks acts when I pass by him every morning. It sinks in that I might really be in danger.
"Why do you care what happens to Angel?" she says. "I'd figure you'd be right here with me, C. One less vampire to worry about - no muss, no fuss."
I think. Why should I care? Why am I risking my life for the ex-evil dead? "Angel is my friend," I say, without much conviction.
"Your friend?
"Yes."
"Yeah, you keep on telling yourself that. You just keep on pretending that one day Angel will notice you. Hell, he might even fuck you but I seriously doubt it'll be anything to lose his soul over."
"At least he has one."
"Oh, but you see, this isn't about me. This is about doing my job, getting paid, and getting the hell out of here. Frankly, I'm surprised, C. I would've thought you'd be more ambitious than to settle for Buffy's sloppy seconds."
Ouch. "Fuck you."
Faith twitches, like she can't stand to be inside her own skin. "You know, that could be a really interesting possibility. I was actually hoping to torture you using my trusty knife here, but sex could work too." She crouches down in front of my chair and puts her hands on my knees. Crap. Does she think she's coming on to me? I can feel her breath on the top of my head as she leans in and whispers.
"By the time I'm finished, you'll be begging for it."
Now I'm starting to get pissed. I'm just about to tell her that I don't go for the whole lesbian, heroin-chic trash look when she pulls my hair off my neck and runs her tongue behind my ear. I get goosebumps in spite of myself. She comes around to face me, and throws her leg over my lap so that we're face to face.
I make a decision. If this is what it takes to get out of this chair, I'll play. I'd rather have scars that don't show.
"Faith."
"mmhmmm" she mumbles, face buried in my hair.
"Untie me and let's do this right." Surprisingly, she does.
More surprisingly, nothing she does hurts. In fact, it's pretty much the best I've felt in, well, ever. It's not until she's made me come that I realize how neatly she planned this. How she must have known I'd be willing to bargain for degradation instead of getting my face slashed up. How breaking in to my apartment was never about getting close enough to kill Angel.
She moves towards the door to leave. I can't let her win. "Faith?"
"What?"
"That was really special, but Buffy was better."
She strides over and punches me in the face again. When my eyes finally focus I notice that she's gone. Wesley is too.
The room still smells like blood, but now it's mixed with sweat and sex. I consider trying to make it to the bed but I'm in too much pain so I pull my clothes back on and sink down against the wall instead.
I know Angel will come and find me. I know that I did what was necessary to survive. But I also can't help thinking about what Faith said. That maybe I am settling for this life. That in my dreams, sometimes, Angel's there whispering to me. But mostly I think about the way Faith tasted, how her fingers felt inside me, and I realize that the torture has just begun.
I wonder if Wesley is ok. I wonder where Faith took him.
I also wonder where Faith took me, and if I'll ever make it back.