This is a story about Faith's early life before she came to Sunnydale, giving one idea of how she might have lived and the experiences that shaped her.
Characters: Faith, male OC
Setting: Boston, MA, in the spring of 1998
Warning: um, it's a story about Faith's early life before she came to Sunnydale and the experiences that shaped her.
More Specific Warnings:** Underage sex, rape, prostitution, robbery, violence, drug use and bad language.**
Fair Exchange Is No Robbery
Faith was becoming quite the expert on ceilings. Cheap motels: low and grubby with peeling paint and the occasional suspicious stain. Expensive hotels: high, with fancy decoration around the edges -- there was probably a special word for it that she didn't know--
The weight on top of her started making gasps and grunting noises. She tuned it out, went back to her train of thought.
In people's houses -- it was odd how the rich dudes were the ones who left the ceiling beams uncovered in their fancy North End and Beacon Hill apartments; you'd think they could afford paint and plaster. Faith had a theory that you could tell the bachelors from the married guys by looking for cobwebs in the corners. She preferred the married ones--
The weight was moving faster now as it bounced and thrust into her. Not much longer then.
More opportunities. Wives had jewellery. Single guys went more for electronics. Hard to hide a VCR on your body. This one: married. Unless it was him who read 'Cosmo', not his wife. Faith could see the magazine on the table next to the couch, out of the corner of her eye.
The weight was talking to her, or rather at her now. It was saying things like "Fuck, yeah", and "Come on baby, come for Daddy." Faith swallowed her sudden feeling of white-hot homicidal rage at the words with difficulty. Time for the next part of her act. Keep it together, girl.
She wasn't going to fake an orgasm, not for anybody. Pride was an odd thing to talk about in her situation, but she still clung to some. But she started whispering urgently, the same sort of cheesy porno lines he was coming out with. He probably got them from watching vids, same as she had. Then he yelled out and stiffened all over, and she felt him twitching and jerking inside her, and it was finally over.
She lay there waiting as he got off her, his dick slithering limply out, collapsing back on the couch with a loud sigh. Then she stood up, stepping in front of him as she tucked her tits back into her bra and did up her blouse. He watched, just as she'd planned. Catholic schoolgirl outfit - always a winner. She'd stolen it piece by piece from some of Boston's best department stores over the course of a week. With it on and her hair in plaits, she looked about thirteen.
That made it easier. The kind of creep who'd pay to fuck a thirteen-year old schoolgirl? Deserved whatever was coming to him.
She could feel an ooziness inside her as she stood there. They always offered more to do it without a condom, and Faith pretended to be reluctant then finally gave in. She'd never caught an STD yet; guess she was just lucky, or had good genes or some crap like that. She'd seen the AIDS warning campaigns, but didn't care about them. Frankly, she didn't expect to live long enough for it to matter.
She squeezed and bore down a couple of times, waiting until she felt the tickle of the guy's jizz running down her thigh, then went into her flustered teenager act, all "Eww!" and "I need to wash!" She made sure she turned so he could get a good look at his mark on her as she spoke. Sometimes it turned them on; sometimes they were disgusted. This one just laughed at her, then casually waved her away.
She took that as an invitation, saying "Your bathroom's upstairs, right?", then grabbed the rest of her clothes and the all-important money lying on the table before dashing towards the stairs, hiding her grin as she did.
She had to work fast. A tissue from her pocket took care of the mess between her legs as she quickly finished dressing then pushed open one door after the next, glancing inside. Main bedroom, spare bedroom, study, bathroom. Eyes peeled for small valuables left lying around; a watch, a necklace, prescription drugs... once she'd found a guy's actual wallet left on his bedside cabinet, and cleaned him out of two hundred bucks and a credit card.
A pair of gold cufflinks with a tiny diamond in each glinted at her archly. She swept them up, tucked them into the hidden pocket she'd sewn into the hem of her skirt. They looked pretty valuable, although when she fenced them she'd be lucky to get a tenth of their worth. If she was really honest with herself, it was the thrill of stealing the stuff more than the money that did it for her, but even so...
"Score!" A jewellery box lay on top of a woman's dressing table, and the key was still in the lock. Faith rummaged through; some good shit here. The genuine article, she thought, not cheap and flashy costume stuff. She tucked several pieces into her secret pocket until it was full. Then picked up a pearl necklace and looked at it regretfully. There was enough money there, she wouldn't have to do this again for a month at least if she was careful - but how could she smuggle it past him?
Greed warred with caution for a long moment, then with a muttered "What the hell" she coiled up the pearls and tucked them into the front of her knickers. She'd just have to hope he didn't want second helpings when she came downstairs again.
Okay, she'd been long enough. Better go back before he got suspicious. She ran into the bathroom - then gasped as the pearls slipped and rubbed against her pussy as she moved. Damn it; she'd just been fucked and it did nothing for her, but now she was getting off on this? Part of her wanted to grab the ends of the necklace and slide it up and down over her cunt until she came on the bathroom floor - but there was no time. Reluctantly, she pushed the flush lever on the toilet so the sound echoed through the apartment, turned around and went back downstairs.
She felt all heated and woozy by the time she got to the bottom of the stairs, and had to cling to the bannister for a moment to recover. Damn, what was wrong with her? He was surely going to suspect something when he saw her like this. Or worse, he'd think his studliness was turning her on again, and he'd want another go, and he'd find the pearls. Maybe she could offer him a blowjob instead?
"What the hell's the matter with you? You look pale as a ghost! Christ, have you been shooting up in my bathroom?"
Huh? Faith's head was spinning, and it was hard for her to think straight, but what she heard sounded like it might work as an excuse. She muttered a non-committal, "Uh, yeah, that. Whatever. Can I go now?"
But the man got a predatory look on his face, and said, "You can't go out like that: what if someone sees you? They'll think I gave you the drugs! Better stay here until they wear off." And he grabbed her arm and started pulling her back toward the couch.
Faith tried to tug her arm free, but he was too strong for her, and she couldn't think straight for all the warm cotton wool in her brain. She started to panic, and that just made him laugh. He said something about him getting a freebie in return for looking after her, because she should be grateful, and with his other hand he grabbed one of her tits and squeezed it hard.
And so Faith blurted out the first thing that came into her head: "Can I give you a blowjob instead?" And mostly she just wanted to stop him from finding out what she had inside her pants (literally), but her clouded mind also had some vague plan of running away while his trousers were round his ankles.
Then he got a big stupid grin on his face, and said, "Of course you can, baby", and he unzipped his fly and pulled out his dick and pointed to the floor in front of him. Faith's head was spinning, and she started to kneel down as instructed and instead half-collapsed, grabbing a nearby chair for support. To her horror her body seemed to be rebelling against her, losing control; her back arched and her legs jerked out wildly, and the guy stepped back hastily in alarm as she convulsed in a full-scale fit in front of him.
And that wasn't the worst of it, because as her limbs flailed and kicked she felt something shifting and moving inside her pants, and then the string of pearls dropped free from beneath her skirt and cascaded down onto the hardwood floor with a loud rattle.
"What the hell? Those are my wife's!" His face, cast in an expression of disgust as he watched her collapse, now turned ugly with anger. He grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet, still twitching limply, and shook her violently. "You thieving little bitch!"
And then time seemed to slow down. Faith could see with perfect clarity the flaring of his nostrils, the little bead of saliva at the corner of his mouth. She could see his chest expand as he took a breath. Watched his arm go back. His fist clenched; he was going to hit her, not a slap but a full-on punch, and he was much, much bigger than her. Faith had been hit plenty of times in her life already; she knew this was going to hurt. But everything was still moving so slowly; so when his arm came forward again Faith could just twitch her head to one side and watch him stumble forward as he missed her. Then her own hands came up, slowly as if in a dream, moving by instinct without conscious direction from her brain; and one caught his elbow while the other grabbed his wrist and tugged slightly downwards, and there was a crack like splintering wood and now his arm hung limp and broken at his side.
But rage and adrenaline were driving him on, and he didn't stop to feel any pain; he roared and hooked the fingers of his good hand like a claw and leaped forward to grapple and bear her down beneath him. And Faith's right hand shot out in a punch, hit him clean on the jaw, and knocked a man almost twice her weight so hard that he flew backwards across the room and crashed into the couch, which broke under the impact and left him slumped down in its wreckage.
And Faith looked at him in sheer bewildered astonishment and said, "Fuck!". She held up her hand to look at it; it was still her own tiny fist, but there was blood on her knuckles, and it wasn't hers. She said "Fuck! again and staggered backwards, grabbing the chair behind her for support, and instead snapping the wood in half so she was left holding the chair's back in one hand. She said "Fuck!" for the third time, a note of hysteria in her voice, and grabbed the solid piece of timber in both hands and cracked it in half as easily as a matchstick. "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck..."
She tossed aside the two billets of splintered wood and staggered dazedly over to the ruins of the couch, still half-wondering if this was just some weird dream, if she'd gone mad when she had that fit and was just seeing things now. But the guy seemed real enough, his chest heaving convulsively, his eyes glazed and staring, blood and broken teeth all round his mouth. It looked like she'd shattered his jaw, but at least she hadn't killed him; she was weirdly glad of that. The motherfucker deserved to suffer, sure, but Faith didn't need a murder rap over her head. Then she saw something that finally broke the crumbling walls of her reserve and set her howling with hysterical laughter; the guy's dick was still hanging out, where he'd unzipped expecting the blowjob that never came. It seemed like a lifetime ago now, even though really only a couple of minutes had gone by. She had a sudden urge to tuck it neatly back away for him, which set her off giggling madly again. Better to leave him like this; a treat for whoever found him. Let them see what a scumbag he was. But she did rifle through his pockets, until she found his wallet and skilfully emptied it.
Then she scooped up the pearls off the floor again, had a quick look around to make sure she hadn't left anything else behind, and walked out the door.
Her conscience got the better of her halfway down the street, and she stopped at a public callbox, dialled 911 and gave them the address then hung up when they asked her for her own details. She wasn't worried. The guy didn't know her real name or where she lived, and besides, men who hire underage girls for sex are generally not too keen on chatting to the police about their hobby. Funny that. So no, she wasn't worried.
God, was she not worried. There were some heavy metal railings at the bottom of the street, to keep pedestrians safe from traffic on the main road, and Faith grabbed them and twisted the metal into a pretzel shape. She'd secretly been a bit nervous that her new superstrength might have deserted her once she was no longer in danger - but no, it seemed like she still had it. She didn't have a clue how or why this was happening, or if it would be permanent, but God, it felt so good now! She started laughing again as she looked at the ruin of the railings, and stared at her hands that had done it; and some passers-by made a wide detour around the crazy woman. Faith didn't care. They couldn't touch her now. Nobody could touch her now.
There was a Mickey D's just down the road, and she had money in her pocket and suddenly felt ravenously hungry. The food vanished almost as soon as she sat down at the table, she wolfed it down so quickly; and she was about to get up and go for more when she had a better idea, and slipped into the restroom instead. She pulled out her spoils of conquest, and looped the necklace round her fingers then did the thing with the pearls she'd been wanting to do almost since she first found them. They became slick and wet as she sawed them backwards and forwards, and her gasps and moans of pleasure were easily loud enough for anyone passing the restroom to hear what she was doing. She didn't care: what could they do to her now? What could anyone do to her?
Afterwards she held up her hand and looked at it once again, the damp string of pearls looped around it, and she breathed in her own musky scent from them and grinned a wide smile of triumph. She was a fucking superhero or something now, and she could do whatever the hell she liked and nobody could tell her different. Oh sure, she'd use her powers for good and all that crap, but no reason she couldn't have a little fun while she was at it. Or maybe get some payback; Faith had a long list there.
She pushed open the restroom door, ignoring the stares, and walked out into the rest of her life.
(Which didn't exactly go as planned, but you already know that part of her story.)