All the scars are on the inside. I’m not sure if there’s anything left of me.

Dar was no stranger to waking up alone.

She could remember the last time anyone had shared her bed at all prior to the night next to Kayla, as it was one of her defining moments. Of course she’d had lovers, but they had never been more than flings, and the few that had been in her home had never stayed the night. At her sexual peak in the mid 90s she was still under the misapprehension that she was a straight man, and though sex did happen, it was always drunken or high fumbling at parties and was ultimately unsatisfactory. When she can out in the mid 2000’s there had still been quite a bit of stigma attached to homosexuality (not that there wasn’t still) so there had been furtive club bathroom and back alley hookups or cruising on the Fruit Loop in Schenley Park. Never had she brought anyone home.

The last person she’d woken up next to was Bob.

It was almost thirty years ago. Bobby was going away to school, the summer was over, and his parents were out of town for the weekend. The boys had all gotten together and gotten good and fucked up at his place for the entire weekend. Nonstop partying, drinking, smoking… they’d all chipped in money for food and beer and Bob had cooked; he was always a good cook even as a teenager. Monday morning Randy was going to drive him to campus.

Nothing had happened, of course. Darlene hadn’t even known she wanted anything to. The others had passed out hours before, and she and Bob had sat up talking about old times. At that point they had spent more than half of their lives together. Bob had been so… alive. Confident and ready to take on the world. She’d woken up before him and watched him sleeping for a bit, the way his long hair had spread out on the pillow. Even though she hadn’t come to terms with her sexuality at the point, she knew she loved him.

Now seeing him, the broken man, tired and worn, it had almost made her cry. After Heidi’s makeover he looked more like the man she knew, the boy she fell in love with, and she had to admit that bald looked good on him. Still, she could still see the scars his life had left on him. His eyes, they used to be so bright and idealistic. The intelligence that she was in awe of was still there, but it was shadowed by pain. If only she’d been there for him.

But enough musing. She rolled out of bed and hit the shower.

Morgan watched Cassie blurring around their room like a big busty tornado, and had to smile to herself. The younger woman’s fiercely dominant streak seemed to belie a soft underbelly of nerves and self doubt, and that would be a tool to be used against her. The competition in general seemed diversely solid, but with very few actual threats to her own eventual victory. Each, like Cassie, had a weakness, an Achilles Heel that could be exploited to undermine them. KJ was a weak and self admitted poor value judge. Kayla was young. Robin was timid. Darlene clearly had her own baggage, although Morgan had yet to determine what it was.

The only real threat was Alicia. And Morgan had no intention of allowing the older woman to get between her and what she wanted. She was Morgan Fucking Schultz. What she attempted, she mastered and conquered. When her husband cheated on her she kicked the fuckwad to the curb. When someone got in the path of her career they were left run over like financial road kill. These six bitches were not going to stop her from getting what she wanted.

The fact that she was going to have to sacrifice herself on the altar of Bob wasn’t lost on her, but neither did it bother her overmuch. He wasn’t a bad looking guy, and Grandma Mattie adored him which went a long way toward making him attractive. And of course that’s what all this was for. She was going to save Grandma Mattie.

And she’d sacrifice anything or anyone for that goal.

(Title: ‘Veteran of the Psychic Wars’ by Blue Oyster Cult)