She came to slowly, as if her body was reluctant to return to full awareness. She could understand why. Generally, coming back to consciousness in a radically different place from where she had last been was never something that boded well. She could be wrong, but she didn't think it involved a friendly cup of coffee and a discussion of how life had treated them in the eight years since she had abandoned her computer and joined the Brigade to run for her life.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw that she was inside a storage shed, probably the one in his yard. No, this definitely didn't bode well. The sinking feeling in her stomach reminded her that her pen pal had always thought there was more to their friendship than there really was. She'd never told him that all his unsolicited gifts had gone in the garbage unless she could make actual use of them, and she was more than glad she hadn't given out her Phoenix address once she had left the Midwest; she hated to think of what he would have tried to send her as his faith turned zealous. Growing up in the Deep South had exposed her to too much of that mindset, had poisoned her beliefs until she had made her escape. This world suffocated her even more than it did her other friends, because it felt as if her past had come back to haunt her, to destroy the fragile pride she had found in herself, to crush the life and love out of her.

The door creaked open, cutting off her train of thought. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"You drugged me! How the fuck do you think I am?" she snapped. Whatever night vision she had gotten while waiting in the dark was gone, but she was starting to make out his silhouette, and the look of whatever was slung over his shoulder was not reassuring. "Get outta my way and let me outta here!"

Could that possibly be pity in his eyes? "I can't do that. I brought you here to save you. I love you. I have to bring you back to God. I have to save you from perversion and evil. Stay here with me. Marry me. I can show you what love is supposed to be like. Can't you imagine it?"

"Yes, and I'm tryin' not to throw up all over your shoes. I don't know how many times I'm gonna have to tell you this, but you can't turn me straight just 'cause you want me. You can't change how I was born. Take it up with my folks if you want to talk 'bout why I'm gay, all right?"

"I'm sure they're ashamed that their beloved daughter is on the path to eternal damnation." He stepped towards her, and she stepped as far back as she could.

"Keep your distance or I'll kick you into next Wednesday! Where I go after I die- if I go anywhere at all-"

"Blasphemy!"

"Oh, shut up. Look, wherever I end up, if there's an anywhere to end up, is between me and God. If He decides I should go to hell 'cause I was born gay- somethin' He arranged- He can talk to my lawyer. I am who I am, and there's nothin' you can do 'bout it. Ain't even anythin' I can do 'bout it unless I act like somethin' I'm not. I tried that. Didn't work. It just made me miserable and confused."

"You didn't try hard enough. You didn't have anyone who really cared 'bout you to help you find your way home. I can do that if you'd just let me."

Her night vision was returning to her, allowing her to notice something she would rather have not seen. "Pull your pants up. I'm not gonna swoon at your feet just 'cause you've got your little friend hangin' out."

"That's not quite what I meant." He shuffled towards her, and as best as she could, she got out of his way. There wasn't a lot of space in the long but narrow shed, and someone watching the scene out of context might have gotten a good laugh out of the two blatantly out-of-shape people circling each other warily, occasionally tripping over clothes or stray tools. But there was nothing comical about the situation; both of them knew how serious the matter was, although they had different takes on it. The air was full of hormones and primal instincts.

Try as she might, she couldn't get past him to the door. He was too big to move easily and just quick enough to cut off her escape. Inexorably, he pushed her towards the back wall, rendering her helpless. Once she was unable to evade him, he moved in closer and closer. She kicked and clawed at him, but her blows had no effect. "Stop fightin' me! You'll be better for this! I can make you human again!"

"Oh, would you please shut the hell up already?" she asked, her tone dripping with world-weariness. "This's been fun like a root canal, but I want to get out of here. Nikki probably started the strip poker game without me, and that's a damn shame. That's a woman I wouldn't mind strippin' and pokin', if you get what I mean."

He clapped his hands over his ears with an unholy shriek. "How dare you speak of such filth happenin' in my own house? This is a place of God!"

"Uh-huh, that's why you've got me trapped in here and you're tryin' to rape me, 'cause this is a godly place. Riiiight. And you call the lesbians fucked up."

"I'm not tryin' to hurt you, why don't you get that?" Even as he said that, he tripped her. She stumbled, and her head struck a shelf with a thud that seemed to reverberate all through the world. Her eyes rolled up until only the whites were visible as her body went slack. He prodded her with his foot a couple of times, wincing when she didn't react. He knelt next to her and took her strangely cold hand in his, preparing to aid her in the only way he knew how.

When she regained consciousness... again... she really wished she hadn't. Her situation had managed to deteriorate, a feat that amazed her beyond belief. Before, she had just been woozy and locked in a storage shed. Now she was woozy, locked in a storage shed with a crazy religious freak, half-naked, and bound so that her hands were behind her and her legs spread wide. He stood in front of her, having shucked his pants completely. "You feelin' all right now?" he asked.

She cursed at him, using the Spanish vocabulary she had picked up in the Southwest as well as the more standard English words. "How fucking stupid are you? You've got me tied down and you want to know if I'm okay? Untie me and maybe we can talk 'bout that."

"You know I can't do that. I'm sorry I had to, but you were hurtin' both of us. You know it's gonna happen. Stop fightin' me and let me help you!" With a gentleness that seemed out of place, he stroked her cheek. This did not work the way he had planned, because she turned her head and snapped at his fingers; he only just got out of the way in time. "I'm tryin' to be good to you, why don't you get that?"

"'Cause you're goin' 'bout it ass-backwards. Now, if you untied me and let me put my pants back on, that would be good to me. Oh, and put your pants on too. That don't impress me much." She indicated with a nod of her head what wasn't impressing her much. He had enough decency left in him to blush at the attention that part of him was receiving. Still, he thought he knew what he had to do for her. Her eyes widened as she realized that he was really going to go through with this. "For the love of that God you believe in, don't do this! Please! No! Not this again!"

"You're a fine one to be speakin' of God, least right now," he growled. Even as she protested, even as she screamed and cried and begged for mercy, he forced himself on her. In his mind, a mind warped by too many years under the influence of Britney's messages, her screams came from pleasure, her tears from joy. Any moment now she would realize that she had been on the wrong path all her life. Her closed eyes would open and lock on him adoringly. Just like in his dreams, she would whisper that she loved him, her breath warm on his face. Her resistance would crumble and fade; she would give herself to him willingly in gratitude for what he had done for her. For bringing her soul back to the light, God would reward him, though it occurred to him that his joy in this act might be part of God's reward. He had been given a chance to make a positive change in the world and to save a friend; surely that had something to do with the way he lived his life, in complete accordance with the decrees of the church and the government.

All of this went through his mind before the joy of release hit him, and then he was no longer capable of coherent thought. He thrust again and again until he was spent, then removed himself from her. "Well? How was that? I was savin' myself for you, hope you 'preciate it." There was something shy in his admission of previous virginity, an innocence incongruent with the heinous act that had just taken place.

Her eyes fluttered open and she focused on him. In the dim light that filtered through the grimy window along one side, her gaze was full of hatred, her eyes as cold and smooth as jade glaring at him. "Get me out of these ropes and I'll tell you how that was," she said, doing her best to keep her tone even.

Eagerly, he untied her hands, but before he could reach for the restraints that held her legs apart, she stopped him. "That was rape," she told him just before she punched him in the face. "And this, this is assault." She punched him again, reveling in the feel of his blood against her fingers, slick and liquid, so she could ignore the slick liquid dripping down her legs. "'Course, courts have a self-defense plea, or they used to. Dunno if they do now. Wanna see which of us would be convicted if this came to trial? I hear they've made rape a capital crime." She punched him a third time, and now her hand was starting to hurt, but it distracted her from the throbbing pain in her lower body, fueled the rage within her. "You got this idea in your head somehow that you know me better than I know myself, but if you knew half as much 'bout me as you seem to think, you'd know that I've been here before, lyin' in my own blood and cryin' like a baby, torn up body and soul, feelin' like garbage. It didn't change me to a straight then and it sure won't now."

"Well, I wouldn't have tied you up if you didn't put up a fight! It's all your fault! If you'd just let me help you, I'd've been gentle with you. You think I wanted it this way? I love you, I want you to be with me, I don't want you to go to Hell! Let me treat you right, and I'll never-"

"Damn right you'll never, 'cause I don't want to see hide nor hair of you ever again. You ever pull somethin' like this again, or even cross my sight, you'll be singin' soprano in the church choir 'stead of livin' out the picket-fence-two-kids fantasy with me. Get lost, you sonuvabitch."

"I'm truly sorry. I'll pray for you every night that you see the light. I know it's the devil in you that makes you act like this and makes you turn towards the carnal sins of other sick women. If you ever... I'll wait for you." He turned and walked away, stopping by the door only to put his pants back on. There was a mournful expression on his face, although she couldn't see it; it didn't really matter, though, because she most likely would have tried to punch it into oblivion.

When he was gone, she gingerly bent down and undid the bonds that held her legs spread. The motion caused a dull ache to throb along her sides, first the left, then the right, as she loosed each leg in turn; the pain was such that she had to stop for several minutes after each, gasping for breath and blinking tears from her eyes. Once she had gotten herself extricated from the uncomfortable position, she used a rag to wipe off the physical traces of her mistreatment, eventually working up the nerve to massage circulation back into her legs. Her pants were thrown in a corner, and she staggered towards them. Only when she was dressed again did she let everything catch up to her. She flopped onto a workbench, the one he had laid her on, and wrapped her body into the fetal position. For a moment, she let herself believe that she could close her eyes and disappear from the world the way the world disappeared from her sight. She could take no more of the lies and the betrayals, the hate that filled her ears and the madness that had overtaken the world. She wanted it all to end, and it would be so much easier to end herself than the entire world.

She was sorely tempted to give up, to take one of the tools she only now noticed on the shelf above her and use it improperly, but she was too stubborn and too spiteful. It was better to live and fight the power than to let them win by default. This would go down as just another hardship she had endured, another obstacle she had overcome, another landmark event that had shaped her life and her soul. She'd be a better person for it, stronger, tougher, better equipped to deal with the rest of her life.

But even as she stumbled towards the door to face the world, she wished mightily for just a little oblivion, just a little bit of time where she would not remember, nor feel, nor care.