Chapter 21

A screaming bladder woke Jack. He looked at the clock and saw that it was a little after three in the morning. He extricated himself from underneath his wife and padded to the bathroom. The faint light from the living room peeked under their bedroom door. That surprised him; Allison hadn't planned on coming home from the after-prom party until after five. He quieted his bladder first, then pulled on his boxers and went out to check on his young lover.

He expected to see her sleeping on the couch, so he was surprised again to see her sitting up, her feet on the couch, her knees hugged up tight against her chest and her chin resting on her knees. Combined with her attire and hair—her casual, post-prom look—the way she was sitting made her look young and innocent. The TV was on, but it was muted. The dancing light from the tube was the only light in the room, but it was enough to see the dark trails of running mascara down her cheeks.

"Allie?" he asked softly.

She didn't look up.

Fear gripped Jack's gut. "Allie, what's wrong?" He squatted down in front of her. "Baby, talk to me."

Allison finally focused her eyes on his and stared into them for what seemed like forever. Jack could see hurt and confusion in her eyes. She lifted her head.

"Why did you want me to go with Chris?" she asked quietly.

Anger surged into Jack's gut.

"What happened, Allie? Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head.

"Why did you want me to go with him?" she asked again.

"It's your prom, and I knew you really wanted to go. He's a nice guy. At least, I thought he was."

Allison rested her chin back on her knees, but didn't take her eyes from Jack's.

"Do you love me, Jack?" she asked.

"Of course. You know that."

"The same as Abigail?"

Jack almost blurted out the answer, but the seriousness in her face made him hesitate. Did he love her in the same way as Abigail? He almost answered that he did, but did he really? In his mind, it wasn't a fair comparison. He'd loved Abigail for much longer. Sure, he'd known and loved Allison almost as long, but societal conventions forced him to love her with reservations, like a sister. He'd only allowed his romantic love to grow guilt-free for a year or so. DID he love Allison like he loved Abigail?

Abigail was standing in the bedroom doorway now, wrapped in a blanket, her hair mussed and a concerned look on her face. She didn't say anything.

Allison didn't react to Jack's lack of an answer to her question. Instead she scratched her nose and wiped her wet cheek.

"You sent me on a date," she said, matter-of-factly.

Jack furrowed his brow. He wondered where she was going with this.

"I wouldn't really say I SENT you on a date."

"Would you have sent Abigail on a date, all night, with another guy?"

That question froze Jack. Of course he wouldn't. Then it hit him what Allison was driving towards. If he loved HER like he loved Abigail, why did he treat their relationships differently?

Abigail finally spoke.

"Allie, Jack loves you. We both do."

Allison looked up at her sister.

"Are you committed to me?"

"Of course."

"I mean REALLY committed?"

"Allison, we've been over this before," Abigail said. It was clear that she was as confused as Jack at Allison's questions.

"I cheated on you guys."

It took only a second for Allison's words to sink in, and Jack sank back to rest his butt on his heels.

Abigail's eyes were wide.

"You ... had sex with Chris?"

Allison sat up straighter and looked at Jack. "How does that make you feel? Does that make you angry? Do you feel betrayed?"

Jack looked inside himself. He wasn't angry. More like shocked.

"No, I'm not angry," he answered.

Allison's shoulders sagged, and she looked like she was going to cry again, so Jack hurried on.

"But I AM hurt," he said. "Why?"

"Why did you push me to go out with him?" she asked, in response.

"Well, it wasn't to have sex with him!" Jack snapped.

Allison's expression changed again. She seemed almost ... happy ... with Jack's sudden show of emotion.

"I didn't have sex with him."

Abigail stepped around and sank down on the other end of the couch.

"But you just said you cheated."

"I did cheat, in my heart, and I would have had sex with him if he hadn't been so damn noble. He stopped us before we could get that far."

"What happened?" Abigail asked.

Allison explained what happened, from the moment they left for the dance until she and Chris were going at it like, well, horny teenagers. She blushed when she talked about her orgasm and Jack felt equal parts of hurt, jealousy, and anger.

"I was feeling the guilt and shame of cheating on you guys, but I kept going because a part of me was mad at you. I wanted to make you regret encouraging me to go out with someone else. But then all of a sudden, Chris pulls back and says he can't do it, that he can't take some other guy's girl, no matter how much he wants to. He said he wanted me, but he wanted me completely, not just for one night, and he knew I was in love with Jack and not him. We talked about it for a bit, and then I asked him to bring me home."

"Wow," Abigail said, "He really is a good guy, isn't he?"

"Yeah, and that's what made it so much harder to stop. I really like him." She looked at Jack. "And THAT'S why I can't go out with him again. I like him enough that I could fall for him, and I don't want to."

Jack leaned forward. "But what if—"

"No!" Allison cried. "No 'what ifs'! I made my choice, and I couldn't be happier. I don't want to see if there are other options out there for me anymore than either of you want to go do that for yourselves. Why do you keep trying to push me away?"

Jack's own guilt smothered all his other emotions. She was right. He didn't realize it, but he WAS giving her an out, treating their relationship as temporary, even if it wasn't his intent. He chided himself for failing to see it the way Allison did.

Abigail apparently had a different take. She wrapped her arms around Allison. "Oh, Allie, I'm sorry it felt that way for you. That wasn't our intent at all, and I don't view your intimacy with Chris as cheating."

Allison pulled back. "But look at what Jack did—or DIDN'T do—with Mariah. You were ready to cut his balls off!"

Abigail ran her fingers lovingly along Allison's face. "Oh, you silly girl. That was forever ago. Things have changed since then."

Jack blinked twice at statement.

"What do you mean?" Allison asked, voicing the question in Jack's mind. What HAD changed?

Abigail hesitated. "I ... I don't really know how to explain it. I guess having you in our lives has made me look at relationships, at intimacy, differently."

"How so?" Jack asked.

"Well, way back when Allison was trying to explain to me why she got involved with you, she said that she felt like physical intimacy was just another way to show love and affection. I've been thinking about that and I think it can be expanded. If we are more open in our physical intimacy with friends, it naturally leads to a separation of sex and commitment. It shows that the two don't have to be one and the same."

Jack was taken aback by Abigail's change in attitude. "So you're saying that if I just went out and had sex with someone I called a 'friend', you'd be OK with that?"

"Well, of course not, and if you did, I probably WOULD cut your balls off."

"I'm confused then."

"I'm not saying we have free reign to fuck anyone that we want; all I'm saying is that I view Allison's make out session with Chris as a way to express her love and affection for him."

"But we almost had sex," Allison said.

"And if you did, I'd probably have been hurt and disappointed. I don't really know how I'd feel. I'd probably be more hurt that you did it behind my back than that you did it at all. I realize now, looking back, that Jack's dishonesty when you two got together is what hurt me the most. The point is, just because you have sex with Chris and I don't feel hurt, doesn't mean I don't love you or that I'm not committed to you."

"OK, this is too much for my head to handle," Jack said. He looked at Allison. "I have to admit, until Abigail railroaded the conversation—"

"I didn't railroad it!"

"—I was feeling pretty hurt by the thought that you and Chris might have had sex. I don't like to share."

Allison smiled. "You share me with Abigail."

"That's different. I don't want to get it on with Chris."

That made both girls laugh, and Jack could feel that the tension from earlier was fading. Even with mascara stained cheeks and raccoon eyes, Allison looked happier than when he found her. Jack became serious.

"Allison, I'm sorry I pushed so hard for you to go out with Chris. It was a foolish and selfish thing to do. I promise to never push you like that again. Will you forgive me?"

Allison's eyes softened. She cupped Jack's cheeks and placed a sweet kiss on his lips. "I love you, Jack. There's nothing to forgive."

"I'm committed to you, Allison. You asked me if I loved you the same as I loved Abigail, and the answer to that is no. I love each of you differently because you are each different and special in your own way. I do, however, love you as much as Abigail."

He glanced to see Abigail's reaction, and was relieved to see her smiling and nodding at his words.

Allison looked from one to the other. "Thanks, you guys."

Abigail jumped up, letting the blanket slip to show the inner slopes of her breasts, and pulled Allison to her feet. "Let's go to bed and sleep or something."

Allison smirked. "Sleep?"

"Or something."

Jack watched his two girls disappear into the bedroom. He was committed to them both. He needed to find a way to show Allison just how seriously he meant that.

Hey, Baby Brother! I miss you! First off, Abigail and Jack say hi, and that they miss you, too, though Jack says it's only because he misses picking on you. According to Brianna, you've really grown this past year, and might be able to give Jack a run for his money now. She said that when she saw you and Brad coming out of church one Sunday, she was surprised to see that you were already as tall as the jerk—Brad, not Jack—and almost as big. And you still have some years to grow, so you really could pass Jack up. He says he'll always be able to take you, though.

Ben smiled, but the humor did little to chase his gloom away. Allison had been sending e-mails to Brianna to give to Ben since shortly after they arrived in Washington. Brianna printed them out and passed them to him at school. He loved getting the e-mails, because it was the only way he could stay connected to his sisters, but each one left him feeling melancholy—or worse—for that same reason. These secret communications shouldn't be the ONLY way to stay connected. If he thought about it long enough, it ate at him and left him feeling even more pissed at his dad than he normally was.

Still, Ben would savor the e-mails. He usually put off reading them until he had some time in private in which he could write an actual response. Sometimes that would be in the afternoon when he got home from school, like today, but other times, he had to wait until late at night. In those instances, the sweet anticipation built.

Let's see, what's up since my last e-mail? I went to prom last week with a really nice guy, and before you ask, he's just a friend and not a replacement for Jack. Nobody could be a replacement for Jack, or Abbie, for that matter.

Ben blushed at the images that last sentence invoked in his mind. Like most kids in his part of the world, he grew up treating incest as a disgusting taboo only done by inbred hillbillies from the mountains—those across the state, on the EASTERN side of Tennessee. However, even before he learned about the relationship between his sisters, he would often steal glances at them. He could admit they were sexy as hell, and seeing them in bathing suits, or walking around wrapped in towels after bathing, could be boner-inducing. His interest in them, however, was purely driven by casual teenage curiosity and nothing more.

Anyway, things got out of hand and we did some things I'm ashamed about, but he did the honorable thing and stopped us from going even further than we did. We agreed that we wouldn't go out as a couple any more, just as a part of a group of friends.

Speaking of friends, Brianna said you've started hanging out with her and Merrigan and some of my old friends. I'm going to get flak from Brianna about this, but she has promised to leave my e-mails to you unedited, sooo ... She seems to talk A LOT about you. 'Ben this' and 'Ben that'. What's up with that? Is my little brother making moves on my best friend?

Ben blushed again, but his smile got wider. Now he understood why Brianna seemed unusually uncomfortable when she gave this note to him. He dismissed Allison's interpretation of Brianna's actions, no matter how much he would like to think that the curvy blonde really was interested in him.

Or is it Merrigan that's caught your eye? Brianna said just the other day—

The paper was suddenly gone, snatched out his hands.

"Hey!" Ben exclaimed in surprise.

He whipped around in his desk chair to see Brad standing there, holding the note and smirking at him. He was shocked to see his brother; the asshole didn't usually slither into the house until after their dad returned home, but just before dinner. Missing dinner time was not an option in their house without prior approval.

Brad looked at the note. "What's this... 'Baby Brother'?" the older boy said, raising his voice an octave as he said the last two words.

Ben bounced up and reached for the note. "Give it back, you jerk!"

Brad held the note away from Ben, trying to hold his little brother back while he scanned it. His smirk turned to a sneer.

"Are you e-mailing that tramp ex-sister of yours? Dad's going to shit a brick."

"Fuck you, Brad. Give it back to me and get out of my room."

Ben struggled to get the letter, but Brad was still stronger.

"Holy shit, she's a fucking slut," Brad hissed as he scanned the letter. "Is there nobody she won't spread her legs for?"

Ben's anger surged in him, a fury just below the surface getting ready to erupt. "Give me the paper, asshole, or else!"

Brad crumpled the letter in his fist and turned to Ben. The look in his eyes almost doused Ben's fury, but he held his ground.

"Or else what?" Brad asked heavily.

Ben reached for the wadded up paper, but Brad slapped his hand away.

"I'm warning you, Brad." Ben's voice trembled a bit as he struggled to hold his emotions in check.

Brad misinterpreted the tremble as fear and took a step towards Ben.

"Or else what, Pussy? You going to kick my ass?"

"Give.Me.The.Paper." Ben said, through clenched teeth.

"Why? So you can beat off to the thought of fucking your whore sister and her slutty friends?"

Brad must have expected Ben's typical first move—a hard shove—because he stood with his legs slightly apart and he body leaning forward in anticipation. It was a mistake. Instead, Ben's fist connected with his jaw with a loud crack, a move that sent Brad careening into the wall before he fell to one knee. Ben didn't give him a chance to react, instead letting his fury consume him. He was on his brother in a flash, his fists a blur as he pummeled the older boy relentlessly.

Ben didn't say a word as he assaulted his brother, though he panted and grunted as he absorbed any feeble punches Brad tried to land. Ben seemed blinded by his anger, attacking his longtime tormentor with single-mindedness. Eventually, Brad curled up on the floor and covered his head, cursing and shouting as he tried to protect himself from the beating his not-so-little brother was giving him.

Suddenly a new voice entered the mix as arms wrapped around Ben.

"STOP THIS INSTANT!"

The commanding, baritone voice of their father was so forceful and authoritative that it pierced Ben's anger instantly. He didn't even wonder why his father was home at 4:00 on a weekday. He dropped his fists and let Ted jerk him away from Brad, but still his muscles remained tense and his adrenaline pumped, keeping him on high alert. Brad continued to spout epithets and curses at his brother.

"YOU ARE OUT OF LINE, YOUNG MAN!" Ted practically shouted into Ben's face as he stood between his sons.

Ben was tired of cowering. He was tired of being treated like a second-class citizen in his own house and having his own feelings ignored or trampled on. He pulled up as tall as he could, which put him nearly two inches taller than Ted. Ben winced as he felt pain in his midsection from where Brad obviously landed a punch, but he continued to stand toe to toe with his father, his chin jutting out defiantly.

Ted took a deep breath. "Just what do you think you were doing, Son?"

"I'm going to kick your fucking ass!" Brad shouted, from behind their father.

Ted turned his head. "HOLD YOUR TONGUE, BRADLEY!'

Brad was standing now, leaning back against the wall. Blood trickled from one ear and from a split on his brow bone. His chest heaved.

Ted turned back to Ben. "Explain yourself, Benjamin."

Ben used to cower to his father. He'd frantically try to plead his case or put the blame back on Brad to justify his actions, and Ben always used to get the short end of the stick. This time, Ben's nostrils flared as he glared at his father.

"I was kicking Brad's ass," he said, his voice low and even.

Ted's fists were on his hips. "Don't be insolent, Son. I gave you an order and I expect you to obey. I came home early to take care of some important business, and I need to get on with that. So explain yourself. NOW."

Ben stood silently, refusing to say more.

"He's been e-mailing Allison," Brad said.

Ted's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

Ben felt his bravado take a hit.

Brad was grinning like an idiot now. "He's been e-mailing Allison, and he was reading an e-mail from that slut—"

"Watch your words, Young Man."

"—from HER." He held the crumpled paper out towards his father. "Apparently this isn't the first one, either."

Ted reached his hand back without taking his eyes off Ben, and Brad stuffed the paper into it. Ted opened the note and scanned through the e-mail. As he read, his face began to redden. It grew darker and more ominous, until he looked back at Ben with pure hatred in his eyes. This time Ben did take a step back.

"How DARE you bring this filth into my home?" he said slowly. "How dare you commune with such wicked, unrepentant reprobates? HOW DARE YOU DISOBEY ME?"

Ted's voice rose as he spoke, until he roared out the last words. Without warning, he raised his arm and backhanded Ben across the face. Ben's head snapped back and he staggered backwards before righting himself and squaring off again in front of Ted. Ben couldn't stop the tears that suddenly dripped from his eyes, but he refused to reach up to wipe them or to soothe his throbbing cheek.

Ted took another deep breath.

"You are grounded until further notice," he said, as he slowly tore the note in half, and then in half again. "You are not to leave this room except to use the restroom and go to school. You will take your breakfast and dinner in here."

Without a word, Ben pushed past Ted.

"Where do you think you're going?" his father demanded, as he grabbed his son's arm.

Without a word, Ben yanked it free and stormed out of the room. Sharon was just getting out of her car as Ben exploded out of the house. Her smile at seeing her son quickly vanished.

"Ben, what's wrong?"

He paused in front of his mother, tears continue to course down his cheeks.

"I can't take it anymore, Mom. I can't live with those two."

"What happened?" she asked, her voice full of worry. "Please, come into the house and let's talk about whatever is bothering you."

Ben looked back at the house, expecting his father to burst from it at any time. But the door remained closed. He turned back to Sharon.

"I'm sorry, Mom," he said quietly, and the continued past her, the guilt of leaving her to face Ted alone nearly making him stop.

"Wait, Ben, where are you going? Will you be back?"

The tremor in her voice made him pause again. He noticed she didn't ask WHEN he'd be back, but IF.

"I just need to go somewhere and think. I'll be back." He glanced over his shoulder and saw the fear and love in her eyes. "I love you, Mom."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and started down the street.

Brianna turned in the doorway and waved goodbye to Merrigan. Then she shut the door behind her and dropped her backpack on the sofa. Her keys and mail ended up on the sofa table as she passed through the living room on her way to the bathroom. Her swollen bladder released its contents as soon as her butt hit the seat. It felt good to let it go, but not as good as she was feeling only minutes before.

She and Merrigan took the "long" way home from school, which just so happened to pass by the told RC Cola bottling factory. The parking lot was full of cracks and out-of-control weeds, but nothing else. The girls decided a closer look was in order, though once they were parked, their eyes never left the inside of the car. Brianna felt her nipples crinkle at the memory of Merrigan's mouth on them. As she wiped her pee away, the oily evidence of her recent, body-jarring orgasm removed any resistance to her hand, and her fingers dug uncomfortably hard between her lips. She winced, but the discomfort quickly subsided, and she went back to reveling in her post-orgasm euphoria. Had Merrigan not had somewhere to go with her mother that evening, they'd be making slow, languid love in Brianna's bedroom that very moment. Brianna sighed at the thought.

She pulled her panties up as she kicked her jeans off her feet, washed her hands, and headed towards her room to change into some soft pajamas. It may have only been late afternoon, but she had no plans other than homework for the evening, so she wanted to get comfortable. She paused at her open door to read a note taped to it.

I love you, my dear, sweet daughter. You know that. But I've asked you THREE times ... CLEAN YOUR ROOM. And put the clean clothes away.

Please.

Love, your ever-patient and loving Mother

Brianna smiled at the note and turned her gaze into her room. The sight made her blush in embarrassment. Normally, Brianna kept her room tidy, but she'd been uncharacteristically busy the last week, with projects, clubs, and spending time with Merrigan. Now, however, clothes, books, papers, magazines, and other assorted junk cluttered the floor, desk, bed, dresser ... A basket of clean, folded laundry sat on the floor in front of her dresser.

Brianna crumpled the note and tossed it towards the trashcan. She rolled her eyes as it fell way short to become another thing she'd have to clean up. Brianna saw her John Deere flannel pajama pants peeking out of one of the holes of the laundry basket. The pajamas—green with pictures of little tractors all over them—were a gag gift from Allison a few Christmases before, but they quickly became her favorite because they were so comfortable.

She turned on her stereo and Sisqo's "Thong Song" pumped into the air. Then she turned her attention to her chore, dancing and singing to the words.

As she bent over to pull clothes from the basket, she jiggled and gyrated her panty-clad butt at Sisqo's urging. She stuffed a handful of socks into the bottom drawer and reached for more clothes.

Suddenly, she went careening head first into her dresser. She cried out in surprise and pain as she slammed the crown of her head against the metal drawer pull. Starbursts exploded behind her eyes and her arms and legs went numb. She crumpled to the floor and groaned, her mind was screaming at her to move, to roll over and protect herself or to scramble to safety, but her arms were deadweight. The sound of deep laughter made her blood run cold. She mustered all of her strength to turn her head, but she didn't really need to see her assailant to know who it was.

Tyson stood over her, leering down at her half-naked form. Even through her watery eyes she could see the look of dark lust and pure hatred on his face. She whimpered and tried to push herself away from him with her feet, but she couldn't get them to work.

"Well, hello, hello," he snarled, "Glad to see me?"

"How?" she rasped, her voice shaky. Her strength was slowly returning and she pushed with her heels again, scooting an inch further away from him.

"How'd I get out?" He chuckled. "Two words ... campaign donations." He licked his lips as he scanned her body. "Or did you want to know how I knew it was you that turned all that shit over to the cops?" He tapped his head. "I'm a fucking genius."

He took a step towards Brianna, who was still trying to scoot away from him. Instead of complete numbness, her limbs felt like thousands of needles were piercing them. Her head throbbed and the hair at the crown felt damp.

"I amended point values, did you know that?" Tyson asked. "The day before that bitch cop arrested me, I was talking to my guys and told them to put you at the top, WAY at the top. Like, worth more than the next five frigid bitches combined. Guy who fucks you first probably wins the game." He patted his chest. "Tyson wanted to win, and Tyson was going to make it extra good for you, too, seeing as how you were going to help him win."

He took another step closer to Brianna. She went limp in exhaustion, her wide, fear-filled eyes watching him.

"That was before all this shit with the cops, though, before you Killed.My.Dad." His expression darkened as he reached for her, and a feral growl started in his chest. "Fuck the points. Tyson doesn't care about the points anymore. Consider this REVENGE, Bitch."

The gray skies had darkened since Ben left his house, and the wind had picked up a bit. When the first drops hit his face, he cursed himself for acting so hastily. A quick glance at the roiling clouds told him a torrent was about to be unleashed. He calculated where he was, and determined it was just as easy for him to go forward as it was to go back home. Besides, he wasn't ready to deal with all the shit at home.

The more he thought about it, the more he was glad his dad had come home early. He wasn't sure he would have had the guts to ever stand up to him, but now that he had, he was glad. He didn't know what would happen when he got home that evening or in the near future, but he felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. If it wasn't for his mother, he wasn't sure he'd ever go back.

Raindrops started pelting him with increased frequency. He walked faster, but by the time he reached the porch of his destination, he was soaked. He rang the doorbell and waited. His moppy hair dripped into his eyes, so he slicked it back and tried to dry his face, but his hands were wet, too. He tried to dry them on his jeans, but his clothes were just as saturated. He rang the bell again, and then knocked. The wind picked up, whipping his hair around and piercing his wet clothes. To his frustration, the rain accompanied the wind and began to pelt him even as he stood on the tiny covered stoop.

"Come on, answer the door," he muttered. He contemplated making a mad dash back to his house, but the reception he was likely to receive there would be colder than the chill currently piercing him. Maybe he could find some better shelter around back where he could wait out the storm. He jumped off the stoop and raced around the side.

At least he'd have peace and quiet to think.

Ted stared at Sharon across his desk. His eyes were piercing and as much as she wanted to be stoic, she couldn't keep her eyes locked on his. She averted her gaze and squirmed anxiously.

"I'm dismayed, Sharon," he said, for probably the fifth time, since he'd demanded they discuss what had just transpired in their home. 'Discuss' would hardly be the word for what they were doing, Sharon thought ruefully. 'Rebuke' was a more accurate term. Ted had informed her of the incident between their sons, and proceeded to blame her for her lack of control of her home and children.

"Benjamin seems a bit more petulant and rebellious every day. This shattering of an unbendable rule, this ... fraternizing with immoral heathens, may be his most grievous act, but it is most definitely not the first. And to compound his situation with outright defiance..." He shook his head. "I counted on you to teach our children to be sensible, Sharon. It appears as though I was wrong to put that responsibility in your hands."

The clock on his office wall chimed the hour. He glanced at it and then sighed. When he looked back at Sharon, it was with such disapproval that she wanted to crawl into a hole to escape it.