Paloma could count on her fingers the number of times she was in complete shock. The first time was when she was in grade school, looking at the news through a small television screen that showed planes crashing into the World Trade Center with destruction so great that, even in a class of twenty students, not a soul could scrounge up the words to speak.

The second time was when she learned of her parent's demise but, somehow, seeing her boyfriend run his hands down her sister's thigh as his lips peppered their way across the length of her jaw, just as he always did her own, made all previous instances of shock appear to be child's play.

Before Paloma could take action, Quinn pulled away; Michael complying reluctantly. That act, it seemed, was just enough to pry Paloma from her trance.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Michael pried himself from the girl and stumbled to his feet as though he were in the midst of a violent earthquake. He rubbed the back of his hand over his lips, his eyes darting back and forth between the Sullivans.

"I-I don't know." He fought to regulate his breathing but doing so seemed impossible. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

Paloma's eyes narrowed so much so that, at a glance, they might've appeared closed. Then, her sarcastic grin came out to play. "You don't know what came over you?"

Too afraid to move, Quinn swallowed hard and fixed her gaze on the man who was struggling to maintain any sort of composure.

"That's stupid, I know." His eyes dropped to the floor. "I'm sorry. It's just, she and I, we know each other from before, from online, and, when we saw each other in person, we just—"

Paloma didn't hesitate to cut him off. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"It was before me and you," he said meekly. "We met over a year ago and we were talking and now, here, we finally got to meet in person. But I-I had no idea you guys were related." After stumbling over his words, Michael peered at Quinn. "...Can you help me out here, Alex?"

That was Paloma's cue. "For the last time, asshole, her name is Quinn, and the answer is no. You talk to me and me only. Is that clear?"

Michael performed a compliant nod. It was only then that she continued. "So, lemme get this straight—you were about to rape my little sister yet you 'don't know what came over you'?"

"What? No, that's not right." Michael shook his head erratically as if doing so would alleviate the situation in the least. "I wasn't going to rape her. I'd never rape anyone. Look, I'm sorry. Neither of us wanted to hurt you but, it just happened and, as bad as it sounds...we both wanted it."

"You both wanted it?" Paloma's laugh was nothing if not vitriolic. "I can't help but wonder how you came to that conclusion considering she doesn't have the mental capacity to consent!"

That left Michael puzzled. "What?"

Paloma's tone was lower than a snake's belly. "What do you call it when a guy who's nearly thirty tries to have sex with a fifteen-year-old?"

Michael's face scrunched up in bewilderment. His eyes flashed to Quinn's as he squeaked out a breathless, "What the hell happened to twenty-one?"

Quinn found a sudden, passionate interest in the pattern that decorated the bed's comforter.

In contrast, Paloma blocked the man's view of the redhead and bored her gaze into his. "I'm pretty sure I didn't stutter when I said speaking to her was off limits."

"Listen, I had no idea that she was fifteen. No idea. Even when we met, she insisted that she was an adult. She said that she was twenty-one!"

"And you believed her?" Paloma's chuckle reeked of fraudulence. "She's barely gone through puberty, for Christ's sake!" She shook her head and locked her jaw so tight it was a wonder her teeth didn't shatter. "Either way, what was happening in here, just now, what was about to go down—it was an incredibly douchebag thing for you to do. I welcomed you into my home and fed you dinner. Besides, we've been dating for months. What the hell were you thinking?!"

Michael didn't offer a response, instead, he thrust his fingers through his hair in a fit of vexation. Meanwhile, Paloma peeped at Quinn who sat at the head of the bed in silence. The brunette couldn't help but notice that Quinn wasn't denying any of Michael's outlandish claims; making them maybe not so outlandish after all.

Not only that, but she didn't run to Paloma in fear. As a matter of fact, she didn't even look scared; well, not of Michael, at least. But, worst of all, she didn't call it rape.

"I'm sorry," was all Michael could muster out.

Paloma squeezed her eyes shut tight. "Stop saying you're sorry. Apologizing after something like this—it doesn't mean shit." She planted her hands firmly on her hips, refusing to look up from the floor. "You need to get the hell of my apartment."

Another docile nod on Michael's part ensued but, before he could depart, Paloma reacquainted him with her gravity one last time. By now, her gaze was unwavering against his.

"And, for your sake, don't ever even think about contacting her again because, if I find out that she so much as crossed your mind, you're dead. I can promise you that."

On that note, Michael exited the bedroom, then the apartment; leaving the Sullivans to wage the impending battle that was to come. That was until Quinn spoke for the first time in what seemed to be an eon.

"...Plum?"

"Don't—" The woman in question pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a shaky breath. "Please, don't call me that right now. I can't—" Paloma abruptly jerked around to face her sister, her eyebrows suddenly knitted together in worry. "Are you okay?"

Quinn practically sank at the question. "Yeah," she said cautiously. "I'm okay."

That earned her a simple nod. In an instant, Paloma turned away from her yet again. "Good. I'm gonna sleep on the couch. I can't...be in here." She went to the dresser, grabbing a set of mismatched pajamas before blindly motioning to the girl. "Get some sleep. We'll talk about this in the morning."

Half a second later, Paloma, too, was gone; leaving Quinn with nothing more than a room that was far too empty.

It was Sunday morning, nearly noon, but Quinn was still in bed. They'd developed a routine—she and Paloma. By now, the two of them should've been congregating in the kitchen over a cup of coffee, exchanging soft giggles and easy-going grins as they'd complain about how crappy their days were the week before and how they'd have to do it all over again the next day.

But that morning was far different.

In all honesty, Quinn was afraid to come out. She could just about feel it in her bones—the disdain and indignation Paloma felt toward her. It was understandable, of course, but it didn't mean Quinn was ready to face it.

Looking back, she couldn't for the life of her summon why Paloma hadn't chewed her out the previous night, right then and there, alongside Michael. But, the fact of the matter was, for some reason or another, she didn't. Still, Quinn knew she wouldn't be able to evade her sister for long.

As if bearing witness to Quinn's thoughts, Paloma approached the bedroom door. Her voice was a tad bit muffled on account of the barrier, but Quinn could still make out what Paloma was saying very clearly.

"You awake yet, kiddo?"

The redhead in question weighed her options. A large part of her wanted to crawl under the covers and hide, just as she'd done the night before. But she could feel the thick tension in the air as her sister awaited her answer. Quinn moseyed to the door, sucked in a brave breath, then opened it just an inch. She was greeted with Paloma's inviting smile.

"Come on out," insisted Paloma as she raised two mugs just high enough for Quinn to see. "It's time for coffee."

Quinn didn't budge. As a matter of fact, she wouldn't even toss her sister a glance. Instead, she fidgeted with the doorknob, making sure to stay out of Paloma's reach.

"It's okay," assured Paloma. "I just wanna talk."

The woman's voice was gentle, her eyes kind, and still, Quinn felt as though her back was against a wall. So, she complied. In seconds, Quinn found herself sitting next to Paloma on the couch. She'd never been so thankful for a distraction as she had been for the hot mug in her hand. Quinn peered endlessly into the dark-brown portal, begging it to suck her in and deliver her from whatever was to come.

"Can you look at me?"

It was a simple task, really, but Quinn froze. When she finally pried her eyes away from her poison of choice and met Paloma's for the first time that morning, she folded.

"Paloma, I'm so sorry." She put her mug on the coffee table and shook her head woefully. "I know I ruined things between you and Michael, even though you told me how much you liked him. I don't know why I did that! I wasn't thinking, at all! I—"

"What?" Paloma frowned, then shook her head with an incredible sense of urgency. "No, stop. Quinn, what he did...it wasn't your fault. He's the adult. You don't need to be sorry. Ever." Her voice became reduced to a whisper and she replaced her mug with Quinn's hands as if to appease the abrupt shift in tone. "He was going to rape you. Never apologize for—"

"Whoa." Quinn couldn't detangle their hands fast enough. She rose to her feet, her eyebrow arched as far it'd reach. "He wasn't gonna rape me."

Paloma's frown returned as she peered up at the girl, but it scattered just as quickly. "Quinn," she practically whispered. "I know what I saw, okay? Things were getting heated. He was on top of you..." She couldn't stop her lips from curving upwards in revulsion at the memory. "If I hadn't walked in, you guys would've had sex."

"Yeah." Quinn teetered as if it was all so obvious. "Sex. There's a difference."

"Kiddo..." Paloma gave her eyes a lazy rub then looked at her sister earnestly. "When an adult takes advantage of a child, whether that be kissing, touching, or full-on sex, it's molestation, rape, fucked-up—whatever you wanna call it!" She made a point to soften her eyes and her voice equally. "How don't you get that?"

Paloma could sense Quinn's defiance a mile away, but, even if she couldn't, the teenager's locked jaw said it all. "I don't expect you to understand, Paloma. You don't know what we have or what he means to me. I would never expect you to get it because you don't know him like I do. We love each other, okay?"

Now, Paloma was standing, too. "No...you don't. Quinn, he doesn't love you and you don't love him. Alright? That's not love."

"How the hell would you know?" In no time at all, Quinn's eyes turned a thousand shades darker. "No one's ever loved you in that way; that's why you don't get it." A chuckle ensued. "I bet he didn't even have sex with you! He always talked about how he only even considered it when he was serious about someone. Well, guess what? He wanted more than anything to have sex with me. And guess what else? I wanted it, too."

Paloma's nose flared ferociously, but that didn't deter Quinn in the slightest. "So, yeah. If you hadn't walked in, that is what would've happened because, after five minutes alone, we were all over each other but, after months of dating, he didn't even touch you. Did he?" Quinn spat the words out as though they were some kind of pernicious poison.

"I can't believe you just said that to me." The woman's breathless words were rooted more out of shock than it was anger. "That is such a shitty thing for you to say. I mean...it's me. Why would ever say something like that to me?" Eyes still dead-set on the teenager, her hands sought refuge at her hips. "What's going on with you? I don't even know who the hell you are anymore."

"Maybe you never knew me at all. Ever think of that?"

"Yep." Paloma's expression hardened. "Just now. I have no idea who this kid is." She gestured towards the girl in one short but dramatic movement. "The one that lies and tries to meet up with pedophilic strangers."

That struck a nerve. "I didn't try to meet up with him, okay? It just happened. You're the one that brought him here!"

"Are you seriously trying to pin this on me?" Paloma snorted a laugh. "This just keeps getting better."

"I've been talking to him for over a year now and, no matter how much I wanted to, I never met up with him." The dreamy look on Quinn's face wasn't lost on the brunette. "Either way, him coming here last night and us finally being able to see each other in person it was like...fate."

Paloma's eyes all but bolted from her skull as she let out a thunderous belly laugh. "Jesus, Quinn! Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound right now?"

"Just because he's a little older, doesn't mean it's wrong."

"He's not a little older, Quinn; he's nearly thirty. That's even older than me! So, yeah, it does make it wrong. You know what?" The elder Sullivan gently pinched the corners of her eyes and shook her head. "I don't even know why I'm arguing with you about this."

"Yeah," barked Quinn. "Because there's nothing you can do to stop me from seeing him."

Paloma tsked, her tongue probing her inner cheek a moment later. "You remember when I first picked you up from Perry's house? When I first got you, do you remember what I said?" She didn't allow Quinn the opportunity to offer an answer. "I said that you'd always have a choice—a say—when you were with me. I said that because I thought Perry had it all wrong."

Quinn's expression was unamused but that didn't make Paloma back down even a little. "I thought him selfish for not letting you make some decisions on your own, learn from your mistakes, but now I see that he was just being a responsible parent. He did a piss-poor job of keeping a clean house, yeah, but he did what he needed to do. He made all of the decisions and he kept you in line to protect you from diseases like Michael," she seethed. "Because that's what you have to do for a kid. Even then, that didn't work as well as it should've so it looks like I'm gonna have to step up my game."

Deliberately, Quinn declared, "I'm not...a kid."

Paloma's words were simple. "The fact that you think that...the fact that you tried to be with a thirty-year-old proves just how much of a child you are."

"Mickey and I—"

"Mickey?" Paloma spat back, snickering. "What, like the fucking mouse? Is that what you called him? You wanna know what I call him? 'A nobody', because that's who he is." She steadily advanced forward, Quinn inched backward as a result. "We're not gonna hear anything from him ever again. I'm gonna make sure of it."

Quinn squirmed at Paloma's unforgiving expression but maintained her stance all the same. Sensing this, Paloma said, "Your phone? It's gone. Whatever shady account you used to message him on, it's getting deleted. Whenever you're using the computer 'for homework', I'll be watching. You're going to go to school then back home every day from now on. That's it. That's the extent of your life until I say otherwise. Is that clear?"

The vein in Quinn's next jerked with the same ferocity a lion would use to pounce on its prey. "You're just mad because Mickey loves me and not you."

The sister in Paloma wanted to yell at Quinn and hurt the teenager like the teenager was hurting her; throw all of her insecurities in her face; make her cry the same way she had last night. But, the parent in Paloma knew that she had to protect Quinn, even if it was from herself. The responsible side of her, the adult side of her, the side of her that genuinely loved and valued the wellbeing of her sister, it won.

Paloma's stance was steadfast as she enunciated her words very carefully. "Is...that...clear?"