Filthy Pride - Social Repose 
Talk To Me - Salvator Ganacci

And so it started to go a little like this: I would wake up before I could even roll over, there would be rustling and the slamming of my door. The most I could do was sit up, so once I was up straight, Jase would walk in with the same tray to check my wounds and apply a cream. After that, he would ask me if I was hungry. I declined anything for the first few days but the hunger set on me quick. I then simply told him I didn't care what he gave me, as long as he took a bite first. He would bring in something, take a bite and leave. For hours.

After the day I finally gave in to him feeding me, I asked him if I could have something to entertain myself with. He nodded and when he brought the usual peanut butter sandwich for lunch, a stack of random books ranging from sci-fi to biographies. Then he would leave for hours again. Jase would return when the sun started to set and check my feet before asking me what I wanted for dinner. I would tell him I didn't care again, and he would leave and return with a different food every night. He would then leave the room, taking the books I read, and started the whole process over.

After five days, I asked him why he left before I woke up. He sets the tray of oatmeal on the bed next to my feet and sighs.

"I watch you sleep. It's reassuring to know you're safe," I silently stare at him and look over at the window. Great, now I was starting to sound like the bad guy.

"Well, you don't have to," I snap and cross my arms. I wasn't going to let him have any of my pity. The chair next to the window scoots over to the bed and I look over to see him sitting down, his hands gripping the sheets of the bed. Today's outfit consisted of a NASA logo shirt over a blue sweater and simple jeans. Only a psycho would wear a long sleeve under a shirt.

"Yes, I really do. I can't trust you by yourself, I've learned that from you. I realize how much you need me, Acacia, I really do. I was spending all my time keeping you locked up and learning your every move that I forgot what my purpose is; to keep you safe. I always thought it was society that made you upset, but it's not. It's you. I wanted to teach you but you were teaching me; I need to protect you from yourself," My hand reacts before my brain and I whip out, backhanding the boy across his cheek. His face barely moves as the red print appears. I ball the same hand into a fist.

"You don't know anything about me. You pretend that you care, pretend you know my mind. You don't know jack shit about anything, Jase. You know what I think? I think you're scared of rejection so you resort to the only thing you know that works; you kidnap and kill until you have your way," He stares at me in utter shock. I could see the dark frames slipping down his nose, now settling at the tip. I couldn't tell what emotions he was feeling. Anger, sadness, rage, shock; all of them seemed to form in his eyes before dissipating to leave curiosity.

"You're talking nonsense. This is why I need to watch you and learn more from you. Is this why you're so sad, Acacia? Because no one has ever taken care of you? Bianica never did-"

"Shut up! Don't you dare talk about my mother, I never want to hear her name from your lips again! You think I'm sad because mommy never loved me? Ha! I'm depressed because everyone leaves me. But I suck it up and I take care of myself," I yell at him. His hands grip the sheets harder. I could tell he was going to lose it, lose whatever grip he had on himself. I wanted to cackle at how right I was, how he wasn't being nice. Jase was just putting on a costume.

Instead, he laughs. A genuine laugh, eye crinkles and all. My balled fist starts to release as I watch him stand up and scoot the chair back to the windowsill. I furrow my eyebrows as he continues laughing, walking right up to the side of the bed where my head is. I couldn't react as he grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls my head up to his lips. I shriek and grab onto his arm, tugging at it to loosen his grip. He never does.

"Depression isn't sadness. Depression is years and years of having people tell you who you're supposed to be until one day, you can't take it anymore and become better than that. Depression is when it builds and builds up until you don't recognize the person in the mirror staring back at you. Tell me, Acacia, do I look depressed?" Jase releases my hair and my head falls back on the pillow. He looks down at me crying and laughs again, darkly.

"It's not my fault someone made you feel like you were useles, but-"

"Useless? By god, I haven't heard that word since father died. No. I won't bring him up in front of you. My point here, Acacia, is that you are a nuisance to yourself. I won't let you hurt yourself like you did a few days ago. I lost it when you jumped, you know," How can you lose what you don't have? I wanted to scream that in his face, but my energy was depleting after that small tussle.

"I jumped because I would rather die than let you have me."

"And I saved you because I would rather live with you hating me than you living a life of lies."

//

Jase didn't return until after the sun had set. After our small argument, he silently left. No books, no check-ins. Nothing. When he opens the door, I jump at the noise. Whatever he did when the door was shut, I couldn't hear. Hell, I couldn't walk to the door without using up all my pain tolerance. Jase shuts the door quietly and pads over the chair at the windowsill. I watch him as he opens the window slightly and opens a thick book.

"You shouldn't read in the dark," I say and he looks over at me. I notice his glasses were missing, and so was the space shirt.

"You should be asleep," Jase counters and turns the page. I sigh and roll my head to the other side. The cool pillow sheet refreshes my face as I stare at the dark wall. A soft tapping enters my ears and I shut my eyes before quickly turning my head to look over at Jase. He was bouncing his leg, hitting his foot on the hardwood floor.

"Can you stop that?" I ask and he continues. I groan and grab the pillow, covering my head. The tapping grew louder. I rip the pillow from my head and throw it at him. It smacks his face and he genuinely looks shocked. Touchdown, asshole.

"Give me one good reason not to grab this pillow and smother you until your legs start shaking and your heart stops. One. Good. Reason," Jase says through gritted teeth. His face looked red in the moonlight, making me want to call him Tomato Boy. And so I did.

"I don't know, Tomato Boy, but you should have stopped that tapping when I asked."

"And why so? You haven't listened to me since you came here," Jase snaps the book closed and grabs the pillow off the floor, holding it in his lap. I sit up and rest my hands on my knees. My feet weren't so bad that I could now move them as much as I wanted, just not walk.

"You did kidnap me and you threaten to kill me every other conversation we have. I don't know, Jase, you tell me," I say and he turns his face away from me. The leg shaking continues and I grab the other pillow and throw it at his face again.

"I swear to fucking god if you don't stop I'm going to tie your wrists to that bedframe," Jase mutters and grabs the other pillow, placing it on his lap like the other one. I didn't know where this boldness was coming from me, but I wanted to milk it dry before the next time Jase went mad like this morning. Something about pissing off the people who want to murder you makes me giddy.

"Seems like a lose-lose for both of us. Unless you're willing to tie all of me down and gag me, which would make me lose all respect for you, I'm always going to annoy you. Unless. . . you're going to let me go? That'd be killer,"

"I'll show you killer," Jase stands up and throws the two pillows at my face. While I'm blinded by the fluffy attack, he grabs my wrists and pins them above me with a single hand. I felt a deep blush coat my cheeks when his knee goes between my thighs. The blush soon fades as he takes one of the pillows and violently shoves it in my face. I scream into the material, but it's muffled by the thickness. My legs start to thrash, just like said they would. My lungs started to burn as the last bit of oxygen pours out of them. I try to pull my arms from his grasp, but I wasn't a match. My last instinct kicks in and I knee him between the legs. The pillow's wrath loosens and oxygen spills into my mouth. I gasp as I feel him roll of the bed and thump onto the floor.

"Fucking shit!" Jase shouts. I take the pillow off of my face and take long, deep breaths. I prop myself up on my elbows and watch him in a fetal position, satisfied with my work. Seeing him in utter pain for once made a big smile spread across my face. It felt so good, so empowering. I wanted more.

I swing my legs off the bed, trying to avoid standing too long and sit crisscrossed on the floor next to him. I slide the pillow off the bed and roll him over on his back. He winces and groans, still in pain. The smile on my face widens as the look of pure terror sweeps across his face. I place my knees on either side of his hips and hold the pillow up, ready to slam it down and smother him.

"Doesn't it feel good? To be in control? To be the one who is in charge of someone else?" Oh my god. I feel the pillow lower. I was turning into him. I was turning into what I hated. I feel the pillow ripped from my hands and my body slammed onto the hardwood floor. I wince as my head connects to the wood and feel something liquidy on my neck. Jase's eyes widen. He sighs.

"Let me take care of you. Come on, let's get you all fixed up, my dear."