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Bad people do bad things. That's not hard to understand for her.

Jessica remembers waking up — not from sleep but from a drugged out state, naked and bruised and covered in a filmy, ruby-glimmering pollen, with a couple of ski-masked assholes laughing and clapping each other's shoulders and exiting the room.

They never touched her.

She's supposed to be the badass. The one who kicks someone in the jaw and makes them sorry. Trish's new apartment looks like a warzone. It's probably Jessica's fault. Just like the purplish bruises all-over Trish's arms and back. Jessica-shaped bruises. Her mouth tastes like Trish's expensive lipstick and the aphoristic, manufactored pollen, clinging to the inside of her teeth, and like Trish on Jessica's tongue and lips. That's definitely a taste she can never make herself forget.

Everything's mostly a glimmering haze, but Jessica guesses the bad guys watched. They got their jonesing for some lady-on-lady action even if it was completely with a brawl for dominance and likely interrupted most of what they wanted.

The reminder turns Jessica's stomach inside-out. "You good?" Trish whispers, pressing her fingertips to her own hairline seeping blood. She sits on the ruined white carpet with just a knee-length tee, legs separating. Jessica's eyes stray towards the flash of Trish's pubic hair, blonde and visibly wet. How long did this go on for? How soon did it stop?

Jessica clenches her right hand, two of her nail-beds split open and throbbing with pain.

Trish killed her mother. There's no coming back from that. And there's no coming back from this either, as Jessica stands up indifferently, burying away her humiliation and rage. She doesn't give Trish an answer, grabbing the dark heap of her jacket.

Would rather walk out naked than face her.

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Jessica Jones isn't mine. I'm really deeply unsure if I'm gonna watch S3 but I'll always rewatch S1 for that good gay Trishica content. Comments/thoughts welcomed!