you can trust me

TW: alcohol abuse, mentions of rape/sexual assault PTSD/trauma
PLEASE DON'T READ IT IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY THE WARNINGS MENTIONED ABOVE. 

"SALLY CAMERON IS THAT YOU?" Marty speaks up, gaining multiple head turns and glares —especially from Rafe and Kelce— because she interrupted their talk about stupid shit that she could care less of.

Sarah turns her head at the familiar voice, she hasn't heard someone call her Sally in a hell of a long time. The blonde beauty looks at the brunette she grew up with, her face brightens with excitement as she jumps down from Rafe's car and runs towards Marty, engulfing her in her tan arms.

Sarah pulls back, holding Marty's arms tightly as she squeals in happiness. "Holy shit! I can't believe you're actually back home! It's been too long, Marty." Sarah's hands clasp around Marty's face, their lips almost touching. Usually, Marty wouldn't care because Sarah Cameron has always been touchy and affectionate, but for some reason, the little space between them made Marty's heart pulse and her breath hitch in the back of her throat.

"If you two are about to kiss, I'm all for it." A voice jumps in, making Sarah sigh. The two pull apart from each other, Sarah has a smile on her face, and yet Marty can't help but blush at the thought of kissing Sarah Cameron.

"Martha, you remember Topper right? Well, he's my boyfriend now." Sarah says, motioning her hand to Topper.

Thwack! Nicki's hand smacks the back of Topper's head. "Hey! What was that for?" Topper turns around ready to beat the living crap out of the person who slapped him. "Oh, it's just you." Topper sighs, greeting his older sister, calming down.

"That was for being a creep. And this, thwack!," she gives him another smack across the back of the head making everyone in the group chuckle. "It's for not being there at my welcome back home party!"

"Well, you're here now. Welcome back sis," Topper mumbles, rubbing the back of his head because it was beginning to be sore.

"Nicolette! How are you, babe?!" Rafe gets out from the driver's seat and leans on the backside of the car.

"Rafael, please. Not in front of the children. How's college dropout life been?" Nicki has always been done with Rafe's shit but she always flirts back just for shits and giggles. She honestly hates him.

She leaves him before he has the chance to talk back, and goes straight to Sarah Cameron and Marty, hugging both of the beautiful girls from behind. Sarah was helping Marty get acquainted with Topper and Kelce.

Rafe returns to his seat, slugging down a can of beer in the process. His eyes fall upon the beautiful new girl. He has definitely met before —considering Sarah and her were very good friends— but at the same time he's sure that he wouldn't have forgotten a beauty like herself. His eyes slowly traveled down her body, her breasts looked good in that outfit, her legs looked silky smooth, she looked innocent. perfect for him to corrupt.

"And finally, my brother Rafe," Sarah says in a bland voice, shaking Rafe out of a trance and sending Marty a charming smile. He had only one thing on his mind, tonight was gonna be fun.

➵ ➵ ➵

THE GROUP OF FIVE KOOKS AND ONE TOURON jaywalk across the sand-covered road, Marty was in the back of the pack, taking her time not to step on any pieces of glass. Rafe waited for her when everyone else went their separate ways.

"Care for a drink, milady?" Rafe hands her a red solo cup, which she gladly accepted. "Made it from my favorites."

She grins as she takes a sip, the cold liquor burns her throat making it numb. "Holy shit, what the hell is in here?" She looks down into the dark and almost murky liquid.

"C'mon you're not a lightweight, are you? Why does it matter? You can trust me." Rafe chuckles and smirks as he takes another swing of his beer.

Marty stares at him in disgust as he does so. "Yeah, whatever dude, thanks for the drink." And she slowly walks away. Rafe doesn't grab her, he just lets her go, knowing that he will see her again soon.

Marty clutches her back pocket to make sure her phone is still on her person, as she waltzes in and out of other teenagers' ways. The smell of a campfire and burning wood draws her over to a group of people talking about Mother Nature and saving the turtles. She was a hippie chick herself, interested in saving the planet, but she wasn't Greta Thunberg or anything.

"Do we have a name? Is this guy in prison yet? How has that not happened?"

She plops herself down by a good-looking girl, who seemed like the main head of the discussion. She has golden bronze skin, curly black as raven hair, multiple necklaces, and friendship bracelets. She is wearing a white Hawaiian shirt with yellow and brown palm tree detail, a yellow and grayish striped tank underneath, and blue denim daisies. Marty smiles at her and takes another swig at Rafe's concoction.

"Hey, are you new? I love your outfit by the way," the girl stops her own conversation in order to include Marty. Although the act is small, Martha appreciates the gesture. She's been wanting to make some friends outside of Figure 8, and this girl felt perfect.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. I'm Martha, but everyone calls me Marty." Martha smiles as she extends her hand to greet the friendly stranger.

The curly brunette looks down at Marty's hand for a second, and immediately shakes it, smiling at the fact that they just shook hands. None of her friends did that. She found it innocent and polite. "I'm Kiara, nice to meet you. But seriously where on earth did you get that top? That shit's fire."

"Oh thank you! I love your outfit too, very chill but still chic. I bought it from an online store. Nothing around here sells this stuff, they'll think it's too scandalous." Marty explains laughing about the uptight boomers and their hate of showing too much skin.

"Oh my god yes! It's totally unfair! Like"— all of a sudden a pair of tan and freckled muscular arms wraps around her throat.

"Come on," a guy with a round, freckled face and big doe eyes says towards the group. He's wearing a brown almost beige baseball cap backward, a raggy gray bandana around his neck, and a white Hawaiian shirt with brown tribal detail completely open so that you could see his chest and his abs. Marty blushes at the sight. 

—"Like this bozo right here! Shirt is wide open, hell most of the time he doesn't even have a shirt on! It's ridiculous!" Kiara pats the guy on the forearm.

"Did you just call me a bozo?" The guy looks down at her, acting offended.

"Yeah she did," Marty answers for Kiara, smirking as the guy looks at her curiously.

"Kie, who is this? And why haven't I've seen her before?" The guy mumbles over to Kiara, looking at Marty in amazement.

"John B, this is Martha. Martha, this is John B." Kie introduces both of them, waiting for John B's face when Marty sticks her hand out.

And she does! The gesture amazes Kiara every time, it's rare for someone who's most likely a kook to greet a well-known pogue like John B with kindness and respect. As for John B, it made him proud that someone actually didn't bother to give a fuck about the kook vs pogue feud, and honestly refreshing.

"Just call me Marty," she says as John B hesitantly shakes her hand. His hands were different from Kiara's, they were coarse and well beaten like he's been through some shit.

"Welcome to the Château, Marty." John B greets her with the utmost respect because she was technically his guest and he also wanted to see her more often.

"I'd love to stay and chat but I gotta go check up with JJ and Pope. You comin' Kie?"

"Nah, I'm good. But, why don't you bring Marty with ya? Introduce her to the boys?" Kiara suggests. Marty looks at her with a worried and annoyed expression, as she clutches her red solo cup harder, almost breaking it. Kie shakes her head knowingly and mouths the words "don't worry."

"And don't even get me started on microplastic. Have you ever heard about that island? That little island of just..." Kie started back up her topic about the problems with humanity again, but Marty couldn't care less. She was too focused on John B above her.

"You comin' Marty?" John B asks impatiently, holding out his hand for her to take. But in reality, he'd rather keep her all to himself.

"I guess so." She smiles, taking his hand, and following him through his backyard.

When John B introduced Pope to Martha, it was clear he didn't really trust her, she too much like a kook, and no one really ever joins in on the group so he was a little suspicious, but he played it off cool. Let it be him to overanalyze everything.

Pope said he saw JJ by the beach, trying to impress some chick by surfing in the dark waters. Pope also said that he smokes hella weed so it definitely wasn't a good idea. Marty grew with worry, and John B's face grew with disappointment.

"Fuck, JJ. If he's not dead yet, I'm going to kill him. Come on, let's go! Thanks, Pope!" John B says, grabbing Marty's hand and pulling her between drunken teenagers.

Marty thought John B was a cool guy, and for some reason, she trusted him with her life. Okay, maybe not her life, but she still trusted him. Way more than Rafe, or whatever his name was, that's for sure. By the fifth sip or gulp of his concoction, Marty felt her eyesight get fuzzy, and more and more as John B walked and talked, she felt like she was going to pass out.

"Here's the thing about JJ, he's been my best friend since the third grade. He's about as local as they come. Latest in a long line of fishing, drinking, smuggling, vendetta-holding salt lifters who made their living off the water. I mean he's the best surfer I know, he can't be hurt. Just don't tell him I said that."

They were on their way to where JJ had last been seen, according to Pope. They finally made it to the beach, the dark waves were loud as they crashed against the shoreline. No JJ insight.

"JJ!" John B yells.

"JJ!" Marty calls out, she wants to find the boy she hasn't met.

"Don't scream my name just yet baby girl, we'll get there soon enough." A voice says in Marty's ear as she feels muscular arms wrapping around her waist.

She yelps in fear, pulling away from the stranger with the littlest strength she had left in her. She felt weak in the knees, and it wasn't because of what the blond and handsome drunk had said.

"What the fuck JJ?! We've been looking everywhere for you!" John B yells at the smirking boy as if he was his father scolding him.

"Woah, chill dude. I'm fine, see? Totes cool." JJ chuckles as his eyes gloss over Marty's body.

"Who's the babe?"

"Hi, I'm Marty," she sticks out her hand again, John B loving it. It has officially become her thing. JJ smirks at her extended arm and grabs her delicate and soft hand. He slowly turns it over, so that the palm is facing the beach, and he brings her knuckles up to his lips. It was different from her other greetings. It felt so nice. It was reckless, and yet it was loving at the same time, and it sparked a burning desire to know what he felt like on her own.

"JJ Maybank at your service." 

➵ ➵ ➵

IT WAS BY THE SIXTH OR SEVENTH SIP of Rafe's drink that Marty received a call from her mother to come home, and so she had to leave her newfound friends— even though she could barely walk. And so she said goodbye to the Pogues and walked back towards Nicki's car.

Rafe followed her, he was even angrier than the last time he'd seen her. It also didn't help that he was high on adrenaline from the cocaine he had gotten from Barry. Angry of Nicki's rejections, of his sister's actions, and that Marty was already friends with the pogues. Traitor, he thought. She should get punished for her actions.

He followed her until she stopped walking. He watched her wobble around, stumbling between her feet, before finally dropping the roofied drink he had given her an hour or so ago and she collapsed on the grass, moaning in and out of unconsciousness.

He walked towards her, there was no one near them, and if someone was, they were too hungover to do anything about it. "Come on baby, let's get you home," he says, picking her up and placing her in the back seat of his Lambo.

➵ ➵ ➵

MARTY WOKE UP STARTLED IN AN UNFAMILIAR BED. She tried moving, but she couldn't, her legs were frozen and sore and in pain. She felt cold and numb like she was dying. Her head was pounding, she tried opening both of her eyes but she couldn't, only her right eye. It was when she felt something on her face. Her left hand shook violently as she tried to discover what was on her face. It felt sticky and wet and her mind went racing. Was it blood?

Her fingers pressed into the liquid, digging up as much as she could with her shaky hands. When grabbed enough to see out her left eye, she felt like she was about to cry.

Because it wasn't blood, it was worse than blood.

It was cum.

Her lips started to quiver, and she started to have a panic attack. It was then she realized her mesh top was ripped and her breasts were pulled out of her bikini top, and that her bottoms were pulled down to her ankles. "No, no, no, please no."