Victoria started at the faint sound of footsteps. She ran forward, pressed her face against the bars and scanned the hallway for help. None came. The guard didn't even look up from his magazine; he just remained an immovable hulk behind the desk.

She shot a murderous look at the miserable heap of leather and sequins sobbing in the dank corner of the cell.

"This is all your fault," she spat.

"My fault?!" Bridget fumed at the charge. "Because you're so damn perfect, right? Because I'm the black sheep and you're the angel who can do no wrong?" The streaks of black mascara stood in stark contrast to her glowering green eyes.

"Oh, gimme a break with the 'woe is me' bullshit. Regardless of what happened today, we wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for you!"

"Oh, really?" Bridget raised herself to her full height and stared down at her sister. "How do you figure?!"

"Well for one thing," Victoria began, refusing to be intimidated. "You're the one who wanted to go to freakin' South Beach! We always go to Gramps' for Spring Break! And we always have a great time. It's never been a problem before! But noooooo! Gramps' lake-side cottage wasn't exciting enough for you! You wanted 'adventure'!" She flipped her dark hair over her bare shoulders and crossed her arms, checking the hall again in vain.

"Well, excuuuse me for wanting to finally get out of that hick town! Excuse me for having bigger dreams than a smelly old cabin and nasty fish bait!" Bridget immediately regretted the words. Or at least saying them so harshly. It was true though. She had no future in Port Hope. Already, she was breaking the mold by not "finding a nice boy to settle with" right out of high school. Bridget wanted to see everything, experience everything. But still. She shouldn't have said it. Not like that.

Victoria's accusatory glare indicated she agreed. "Gramps would go out of his way to make us comfortable," she murmured. "He'd make all our favorite food and let us stay up as long as we wanted. The days we spent on the boat were unforgettable. You use to love the cabin."

Bridget cringed and bit her chapped lips. She could not, however, resist trying to defend herself. "Yeah," she muttered under her breath. "When I was twelve."

Victoria sunk to ground and laid her head against the cold cement. "Things were better when we were twelve." She sealed her purple-shadowed eyelids shut, willing them to hold back the tears.

At this moment, a night's worth of frustration boiled over. Bridget was disgusted at the nostalgic mess to which her sister had been reduced. "Are you stupid?" she hissed. Bridget discarded any tact or consideration for Victoria's feelings. "Things sucked when we were twelve! Mom and Dad were at each other's throats and we were constantly being shipped to one relative or another! Do you really miss that?!"

Victoria drew her knees to her chest. She ignored the distinct sound of her barely there pink mini-skirt ripping, ignored her sister's cruel words. Instead she clung to the same lie that had always comforted her. "They were getting therapy... they sent us away so they could work on their relationship."

Bridget sat cross-legged next to her twin. "A shitload of good that did," she snapped. The edge in her own voice surprised her. She had thought she'd moved past her anger. "They still got divorced in the end, right? Neither of them even wanted us…" Bridget felt the spectre of sadness haunting her once again.

"That's not true!" Victoria's cheeks were flushed a fierce red and she argued with the stubbornness of a belligerent toddler. "It wasn't their fault! They took us away from them! They – they tried to get us back, but there was nothing they could do! "

"Yeah, maybe."

"Not, maybe. Definitely. They're our parents. They love us." Victoria turned away from her sister and stared at the opposite wall. "And even if they didn't…"

The two girls sat in an uneasy silence. Not even, Bridget was ready to think that this too was a lie. "No. No, you're right. Of course they love us."

They'd be fine. In the dead of night, in a hostile holding cell, Bridget and Victoria would get through it just as they always had: together.

"When do you think we'll get out of here?" Bridget groaned.

"I don't know. But they can't keep us here forever right?" Victoria yawned and stretched. "Besides getting drunk is not a crime..."

Bridget snorted at her sister's assumption. "Maybe not, but flashing the cops is – "

"Whatever," Victoria said with a smirk. "He was so askin' for it!"

Bridget laughed despite their dire position. "I'm pretty sure he was asking for ID, Vick!"

"Uh- huh, that's what they want you to think, but I know better." She ran her fingers through her knotted hair. "Someone should be here to give us our phone call, so we can leave."

Bridget stopped laughing. "They already did that. You were asleep, but someone already came to – "

Victoria's voice seemed caught in her throat. "Who'd you call, Bridge?" she breathed. Bridget just shook her head. "Dammit, Bridget!" Victoria rattled the bars and earned herself an annoyed grunt from the guard.

"Who the hell would I call, Victoria?! The one person I can count on is stuck in here with me!"

"Ha!" Victoria rolled her eyes. "Don't gimme that 'I love my sis' bullshit! We'll be stuck in here 'til God knows when and it's all your fault!"

A/N: I tried to step out of my comfort zone so this piece is kind of rough. Feedback is greatly appreaciated.