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Sokka throws his bag onto the cot and starts packing his few possessions. He doesn't care what Katara and Aang think, Jet is a thug. The two of them can make fun of his instincts all they want, but Sokka knows that this time he isn't wrong. It's more than the old firebender in the forest earlier today, Jet is...there's something wrong about him. And it makes Sokka's skin crawl.
"Going so soon?"
Sokka jumps, hand going to his knife. He grits his teeth. No one should be able to sneek up on him like that; he can't afford mistakes when he's supposed to be protecting his sister and Aang. Jet comes up beside him, curls a lazy hand around the base of his neck. "Why Sokka, it looks like you were going to leave without saying goodbye," Jet smiles a little, his other hand covering Sokka's on the hilt of the knife. "That really hurts my feelings."
"That's too bad, but I'm sure you'll get over it."
Sokka flinches when Jet's hand tightens on his neck, nails digging into his skin hard enough to sting.
"I don't think I will. I think you need to make it up to me."
"No."
Jet nudges the door curtain aside with his boot. Outside, just two huts away, Katara's laughing at one of Aang's juggling tricks. "I think you will. You know what I'm capable of Sokka. Would you rather it be you...or your sweet little sister?" Jet's voice is like the giant icebergs that Sokka's father told him about when he was small. Cold. Quiet. Deadly. The older boy leans even closer and whispers harshly in Sokka's ear, "You can save her. All you have to do is choose."
Something inside Sokka rips. He can't let anything happen to Katara; he'll die first. This monster in boy's clothing is not going to lay a hand on his sister. Ever. Jet wasn’t giving him a choice, because there wasn’t one. Not for him. He bites his lip. "Not her," he whispers.
"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."
Sokka looks out at his sister, squares his shoulders. "Me."
Jet smiles, his teeth glinting white and predatory in the dimness of the hut. He moves his foot and the curtain sways gently back into place; his hand relaxes on Sokka's neck. "That wasn't hard." He trails his fingers over Sokka's jaw. "I knew you were a hero just waiting to happen."
Sokka's knife goes first. Jet eases it out of the sheath and tosses onto the cot. He shoves Sokka to the floor and presses his knee into Sokka's back. Sokka feels air against his skin as Jet jerks his pants down around his ankles. The only sound is the snick of Jet's belt; Sokka stops listening. He closes his eyes and presses his forehead to the floor of the hut. Concentrates on not losing his mind. If he tries hard enough, he can take himself away from this. He focuses his eyes on the planks of the floor, follows the whorls and lines of the wood grain. Jet shoves two fingers inside him. Sokka breathes through his nose and fights the bile creeping up the back of his throat. His hands shake.
When Jet's fingers slip out of him, Sokka silently thanks every god he knows. But his peace doesn't last long. Jet grabs him by the hair, whispers, "Let's see how brave you are," against Sokka's ear. It happens before Sokka can brace himself. Jet pulls his legs farther apart and pushes forward. Sokka jams his fist in his mouth before he can scream. He can not make a sound, the last thing he needs is for Katara to come running. Just let her stay away. Sokka won't cry. He will do this.
Jet thrusts hard and slow, taking his time. Sokka retreats back into his memories; he thinks of the storms that rage across the Southern Water kingdom during the winter. Snow coming thick and fast until the entire world is nothing but an unending blanket of white. He remembers the howl of the wind outside their house at night, the creak of the ice shifting. He doesn't even feel it when Jet finishes and pulls out.
Sokka lies on the floor until he's sure the other boy is gone, then picks himself up and wipes at the mess between his legs with his shirt; he won't be wearing it again. He pulls on his pants gingerly, muscles protesting when he moves too fast. His hands are full of splinters, the knuckles on one of them split where he bit down on his fist. His pack's still on the cot; he gets out a clean shirt and the small aide kit. Sokka unfolds one of the little paper packets of Huang-Jing-Zi berries they keep for emergencies. He chews a handful. The berries edge the pain away for awhile, leaving Sokka with a numb place in his heart and a bitter taste in his mouth.
He's the oldest. This is his job. He'll do whatever he has to in order to protect his sister. Sometimes, just sometimes, Sokka wishes he was a firebender. He'd burn the entire forest to the ground if he could. Send everything up in ashes and flames and Jet right along with it. But soon enough he'll be able to take Katara and Aang away from this place, and there will be one less monster to worry about. He'll make sure they never come here again.