Heath could guess that, other than when his sister had slapped her backstage that one time, his MJ had probably never been hit in her life, and seeing Carter Holmes casually raise his hand and clout the face of the woman he loved made him angrier than he'd ever been in his life.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was out of the chair, ignoring the monstrous pain in his arms as he pulled them over the back. He ran straight toward Carter, who looked at him in astonishment and amusement.

Carter easily deflected his assault, and three minutes later, Heath was back in the chair in his original, painful position, this time with his legs tied tightly to the chair as well.

"We're ruining my favorite stockings," Meredith complained as they did the same thing to MJ. "And anyway, what's the point? His brother and sister aren't here, we can't do anything."

Heath shook his head, trying to clear it. He knew he'd been given something in the drink he'd had at the bar while cleaning his shirt, something really fast acting. He couldn't help feel like he was dreaming still; after all, how could this be real? No one in real life ever ended up tied to a chair and punched in the stomach, did they? This was the stuff of police procedurals and crime melodramas.

Then he looked over at MJ, similarly trussed, and at the deep, red, hand print on her cheek, the quiet terror in her eyes.

This was very real.

Surprisingly, it was MJ who spoke first.

"Look, you guys, obviously, whatever you had planned isn't going to happen, so why don't you just let us go, and we'll forget the whole thing?" she said. "This is really starting to hurt."

"Really?" Carter asked. "How much? How much does it hurt, big girl?"

MJ licked her lips.

"What was the original plan?" MJ asked, ignoring his question. "You guys do a little H, have some fun on the bed?"

Heath looked at MJ in surprise. How did she even know they were on heroin?

Carter, too, looked at MJ with surprise, and a little admiration. "Very good, big girl. I do like 'a little H,' as you put it, but no, that was not the plan."

"The plan was for me to remind his very rude sister Penelope of what she threw away as she watched me have all kinds of fun with Mer here, and maybe to have younger brother Archie watch as well, and learn the ways of the world."

He turned to Meredith. "Although Mer had more than a little interest in him, didn't you, darling?" And his voice was so oily it turned Heath's stomach. "We thought he might do a little H, and Mer could show him a good time, and brother dearest could watch that as well, you know?

"What do you think, Heath? Would that have been stomach turning enough for you? Would seeing your sister watch her ex and yours put on a little sex show and be rocked and shocked and sickened to her core have shaken your supercilious world? Would watching your brother perform the most debauched things known to man have been enough to upset your tidy little life? And of course you would've been watching your own ex. Though somehow I don't think that would've bothered you much." He walked to where Heath sat and tipped his chin up with a finger, forcing Heath to look into his strange eyes with the pupils like pinpricks.

"Fuck off," Heath spat.

"Oh, I guess we'll just have to teach you some manners," Carter said, smiling in anticipation.

"You're insane, do whatever the fuck you want to me, it doesn't matter."

"Not to you, Heath Michael, not to you," Carter, said, skipping over to MJ.

MJ looked up at him, saying nothing.

Carter looked around at everyone; then, instead of reaching out, he leaned down to her neck as though he were going to nuzzle her.

MJ let out a little scream as Carter stood up, and even from where he sat, Heath could see the bite marks on MJ's neck. He'd gone deep enough to draw blood, which was trickling down her neck, making it look like she'd been bitten by a vampire.

Heath closed his eyes and looked away, swallowing back the bile that rose in his throat.

"That's evidence, you know," MJ said.

Heath looked back at her, as did Carter and Meredith.

"Bite marks are as individual as fingerprints, and can be used forensically," MJ added. "Plus, I can feel that you bit me deep enough to draw blood, which means you left DNA."

"Don't pay attention to her," Meredith said. "Moose Jugs is so fucking afraid, she'll never report it or anything like that, no worries, Carter, honestly."

"No, Meredith, I'm not afraid, I just know when it's pointless to make a fuss, there's a difference," MJ said. "I'm quiet, I'm not timid, don't ever assume I'm  stupid enough to not know the difference," she finished.

Meredith stared at MJ for a moment, then walked over to her and slapped her, hard.

"I've been wanting to do that for so fucking long," she said. "You took my man, you've been signed by my label, you got signed by the agent I've been wanting for years, and now you're recording an album, and I know they're rushing you to get it done in time for Grammy's consideration,  you're getting fucking rave reviews at my shows--it's fucking ridiculous is what it is." She slapped MJ again, going back the other way. "This is kind of fun," she said to Carter with a smile. "You just waltz in out of nowhere and poof, you have a career?" Slap. "Bitch." Slap.

"Mer, Mer, please, save a little for later," Carter entreated, putting a hand out to stop her.

"In fact, you know what I think would be really fun?" He looked at MJ, who was looking up at him, her cheeks flaming red from all the slaps. "I think big girl here could use taking down a peg or two, what do you think?" He looked at Meredith.

"Ooh, how?" Meredith smiled at Carter, and Heath's heart sank.

"Oh, I don't know, I don't know," Carter said, tipping his head this way and that, as though he were considering his options.

He reached out and undid the top button on MJ's dress, and Heath's heart sank even farther.

"Ooh, look at that," Carter said. "Quite a set big girl's got on her, I must say. You know, Mer, when you described her to me, you made her sound like an overweight pig, a disgusting, sow-bellied blubber-filled whale, but she's quite the comely thing, isn't she?"

"Are you joking?" Meredith's voice was cold. "She's huge, she's fat!"

Carter "tsk tsk"ed in Meredith's direction. "No, she's actually very shapely, quite nicely built, and her skin is just gorgeous, my god--" he broke off to stroke MJ's shoulder, making her flinch.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Meredith had obviously had enough. "Look, this is getting old. Let's let them go and get back our own fun, okay?" She swiveled her head toward the back room. "I need another bump, man."

"Go get one, then," Carter said, not taking his eyes off MJ. "I'm busy."

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, checked the angles, and set it up to record the bed from the table next to the bed, leaning against the lamp. "For posterity, you know," he said to MJ with a manical grin.

MJ just swallowed.

He looked over at Heath. "You're going to enjoy this, Mr. Spencer. "I won't be able to put on a show for your sister with Meredith, but I can put one on for you with MJ instead." He turned to MJ. "What do you say, my dear?" he asked, as if he were a benevolent old uncle offering to take a beloved niece out for ice cream.

MJ just stared up at him as the blood dripped from her neck.

"Look, you don't want to do that," Heath said desperately. "She's terrible in bed, honestly. A completely dead fuck. I don't even know why I keep her around." He looked at MJ, who met his eyes, beautiful brown ones blinking as she listened. "She just lies there like a huge tub of guts," Heath said as he begged for forgiveness with his heart.

But Carter was already untying the knots that held her legs, saying, "You know, just the fact that you're saying that leads me to believe that the opposite is true, my friend Heath. She must be pretty amazing for you to say such things. Oh, this is going to be such fun!

"Meredith, be a dear and undo her hands, will you?"

Meredith automatically did as she was told.

"I'm saying no," MJ said clearly. "Do you hear me, Carter, you lunatic? I don't want to."

"No one gives a shit what you want, MJ," Carter replied cheerfully. "In fact, it's more fun when you don't want to, don't you know that?

"Now, MJ, dear, get on the bed and lie down with your hands over your head," he instructed.

"No."

This time his fist was closed when he struck her face, and the force of it knocked her on the bed.

"Carter, stop, god damn you!" Heath shouted. "You bastard, stop!"

"Do as you're told," Carter said.

"No," MJ repeated.

"Oh, I know," Carter said, smiling. He walked over to Heath and punched him in the face, hard enough to knock the chair over. "Lie down on the bed with your hands over your head," he repeated.

MJ took a deep breath and did as she was told as Meredith and Carter righted Heath and the chair.

"Meredith, for fuck's sake, he's obviously insane!" Heath said. "You can't possibly go along with this. "Mer, please, show some sense!"

Meredith paused, looking concerned. She was obviously coming down from her high. She watched as Carter deftly tied MJ's hands to the bed frame. MJ tried to kick him, but missed. The motion caused his phone to slip down and lie flat, but continue recording. Carter, intent on his task, didn't notice.

"Carter, what you're talking about doing here is rape," Meredith said at last. "You're talking about raping MJ."

"Yes!" he replied as he reached under MJ's dress and ripped her underwear off her.

MJ let out a cry as the elastic tore and dug into her flesh.

"Oh god," Heath murmured, pulling at his bonds. He could feel his wrists were slippery, and he knew they were bleeding. He also knew that all he'd done was pull the knots tighter.

"Carter, we never talked about that. We never discussed rape," Meredith said slowly, as if saying they'd never discussed having roast beef for dinner. Apparently, coming down from a heroin high made her even dimmer than usual.

"Well, it's loads of fun, and I might even let you participate," he told her.

He sat back on his knees and looked at MJ. Something was bothering him, Heath could tell.

And Heath remembered something he'd heard, a rumor, and he decided to try, his last gambit to save his beloved from this awful event at the hands of the obviously insane Carter Holmes.

"Hey, Carter, how about if you let the girls go, and you do me instead?"

Carter, who had been humming something under his breath, stopped abruptly and turned to look at Heath.

"What did you say?"

"Yeah. Girls are so boring, you know? Nothing like doing some H" (Did one "do" H? Or inject it? Or what? Heath had no idea), "getting good and wasted, and having a good time with another fellow, you know?" He smiled, though it hurt because of the punch he'd taken earlier. He could tell the left side of his face was swelling.

"I heard this about you Harrow fellows," Carter said with a lascivious grin, shaking a finger at Heath. "You like to swing both ways, don't you?"

Heath shrugged. "Whatever's fun on that day, right?" He looked at MJ, then back at Carter. "So what do you say? Let them go, and you and I have some fun, just the two of us?"

Carter looked at Heath, and spoke slowly. "I say you must love this girl a lot to even suggest such a thing." He grabbed the front of MJ's dress and tore it straight down the front in one motion, exposing her bra, one in yellow lace that was one of Heath's favorites, because you could see her pretty nipples through it, and it pushed her breasts up in the loveliest round shape.

"Oh my goodness, would you look at these." He patted MJ's face. "We're going to have such fun, darling. He leaned in and kissed MJ, and Heath could see, even from his distance his tongue pushing into MJ's mouth, squirming and twisting.

"I'm saying no. I don't want to," MJ said again, very clearly. "I don't want to do this, Carter, let me go!"

"Carter, are you really saying you'd rather have sex with this cow instead of me?" Meredith's voice held disbelief, and could it be jealousy? "I mean, Jesus, look at that bush! Have you ever heard of getting a wax? God, it's like a jungle down there, how disgusting!" She shuddered.

MJ turned to look at Meredith, managing to have dignity in spite of how she was tied up. "Meredith, this isn't sex, Jesus, this is rape, this animal is going to rape me, help me, are you crazy?"

"You call me names and expect me to help you?" Meredith crossed her arms. "You tell me who's crazy."

Oh lord.

"Meredith, for the love of god, do something!" Heath cried out. "You're human, you're a woman, help her, in the name of all that's good, please!

"I'll be your boyfriend again! I'll write music for you, I'll let you take credit for it, I'll do anything you want, just please, help her--" Heath's voice broke off and he let out a sob.

Carter had undressed, as MJ watched. When he was completely naked, she laughed.

"You're going to rape me with that?" she asked.

He clouted her again. "You watch your fucking mouth, you cunt. You have a whore's body, it's obvious you want it, so I'm going to give it to you, if not with this, with something a lot more painful."

MJ turned to Heath. Blood was trickling from the corner of her mouth. "He can't seem to get it up. Poppy was right, too, about that other thing," she whispered delicately.

Carter knee-walked on the bed until he was right next to MJ's head. "You suck me off until I'm hard, and then we'll see who's laughing."

He put his hand on her, his fingers in her. It made her cringe with disgust.

"You're not wet," he said.

"No, because I'm not enjoying this," she explained. "I said 'no,' which means I don't give consent, because you're raping me. By putting your fingers inside me you're raping me, Carter, are you too unhinged to see that? I don't like it, but I'm not afraid, you see?

"I'll suck on you because you're making me, but you're never going to get hard, because you can't make me afraid of you," she told him. "You can force yourself inside me, and you can make me hurt, and bleed, but you can only make me angry. I'll never be afraid of you, you pathetic little wanker. So fine, You want me to suck on you? I'll do it. You'll have to come closer, though, you're too small, I can't reach that far. And you'll have to find something else to put in my vagina to violate me with, because that thing between your legs isn't going to get it done."

MJ was crying by now, as Heath listened, horrified, and terrified for MJ.

"So, come on, do what you're going to do," MJ finished, sniffing as the tears ran down her face. "You should know, though, that I have a very low pain threshold, and I'll pass out if you hurt me too much, which probably won't be much fun for you."

She took a deep, trembling breath, wearing only the yellow bra, which quivered back and forth.

Suddenly MJ vomited, though not much came out except the wine she'd drunk. It went all over Carter's soft, white belly and genitals, and the bed and carpet.

Carter took a long look at MJ, who looked back at him, eyes steady, as the tears streamed out the sides.

"Ah, fuck off, you fucking cunt," he muttered. He got off the bed and walked into the bathroom without a backward glance.

Meredith looked after him for a few moments, as if uncertain what to do.

"Meredith, please, please, cut us loose," MJ asked, her voice low and urgent.

Meredith, finally, moving as if in slow motion, found a kitchen knife next to a cheese board, and cut Heath loose. His hands were a disgusting mess, swollen and misshapen, and he could hardly feel his feet, but he grabbed the knife from her and ran to the bed. He quickly cut MJ's hands loose, and ran to where her feet were knotted to the posts at the foot of the bed.

Her underwear were unwearable. Heath was rummaging in the closet for something suitable, feeling panic nipping at his heels, when MJ appeared at his side, wrapped in the coverlet from the bed.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," she said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

He nodded. They passed Meredith, who was still standing, statue-like, in the spot where Heath had taken the knife from her. Carter still hadn't emerged from the bathroom, presumably.

They ran out of the bedroom and through the main lounge area. They opened the door and stepped out into the completely and unbelievably normal hallway of the Peninsula Hotel in Chicago, Illinois, where it was eleven thirty five PM.

Wow.