I have as much rage as you have.

This was just getting to be too much. Too much, too much! All her escape routes were cut off, only because she was in a corner and her pursuer was coming on fast. Anger lit his face like fire and the spark lit his black eyes and made them shimmer. He was so merciless with her. It seemed like he tried to snap her in half. No. Not really. This was training for him. The woman dived out of the way, falling to the cold tile of the floor and rolling to avoid the man's own dive. He reminded her of a hawk – Such sharp eyes always on the lookout for his victim. And, oh, that poor girl was just it. She wasn't fast enough to get away from him. She didn't want to be. This was her release, too.

I have as much pain as you do.

Knuckles jammed themselves into her ribcage. Something cracked, and her world temporarily went grey. The breath was stolen from her, and her lithe little body went limp. She heard the command come for her to get back up, and she obeyed him. Too much, too much… She couldn't focus on anything straight, and everything was disoriented. Before she knew it, a hand was at her throat, lifting her. Chilly steel met her back, and she closed her eyes against the glare. The glare of the room, the glare on his face. He was reprimanding her again for being weak, for being unable to defend herself, let alone fight back. In her haze, she reached out. Nails raked harshly over a fresh wound wrapped in gauze. He dropped her, gasping sharply. She wasn't the only one in pain.

I've lived as much hell as you have.

For a little while, he just stared down at her slumped form, an unplaceable look crossing his face. All it had taken for him to lose the upper hand was a sharp reminder of his opression, which was not unlike that of the girl's. They shared a mutual hatred for those who kept them under the pad of their thumbs, forcing both souls to come whenever they called. The girl huffed, panted. Tried to squeeze the breath in and out of her. Too much pain! She hated it when he lost that control. Blood and bruises, she could handle, but the broken bones were always another story. Always made hard life harder. Later, she would need to be quick – A broken rib was going to make that difficult…

And I've kept mine bubbling under for you.

She could feel the domineering anger build inside of her. She was close, could reach out and rake her fingers over that soft spot again and bring him crashing into the reality that he was just as helpless as she was. Yes, she was weak, small. But so was he. And he would be unable to deny it from himself, even if he tried to with her. However, she couldn't bring herself to do that to him. It was too much… No. She was his chance to get back as his opressor and she had decided long ago to let the boy have that. Besides, insane as it may be, she got something out of it too. She wasn't timid anymore. No longer afraid to hit those who hit her. And it was all thanks to the teenager staring at her still. His eyes were changing. Softening?

You were my best friend

They only did that for her, she knew, and only because they both knew that they would never make it without the other. She knew this long ago. It had taken him a while. Her disappearances had worried him at first. She'd be there one moment, and suddenly be gone with no more than a blink. He would never have let himself become attatched, but she always came back. All she had to do was 'sleep'. He'd never understand it, but then again, he never tried. He had her. His punching bag, his pillow. Too much, too much. He cared much too much.

You were my lover.

His's hands fixated themselves upon her. Wound around her. Carressed her back and tugged her hair. His mouth was on hers in an instant and as always she was amazed at how he would change from ardently vicious to viciously ardent. But she wouldn't complain. He would forget about her ache and press himself down upon her, driving her into the cold grating of the floor. She would never tell him it hurt for her mouth would always be busy and he wouldn't listen anyway. And if he did, what if he stopped? No, that simply wouldn't do! She liked it all so much. The sounds he made, his calloused hands on her silken flesh. Oh, too much, too much…

You were my brother.

She found herself sated again. Tired and wide awake all at once. Happy, but sorrowful. He would notice this in her, and remain blanketed over her quivering frame, often acting in such a way as to suggest the position was selfish. He would start again, tugging her tresses and nipping her skin, leaving his mark and his scent all over her like a stamp of his name. Selfish? No. It was a comforting geture hidden in that other façade. He could tell by the way she cooed and whined his name that something had changed in this round. He was her confidant, her diary. No words were ever used. They weren't needed anymore. They hadn't even shared names in all this time. Too much, too much. Far too much alike. Ruthless and cold, they matched each other like sin and spite. Complemented each other. Were each other...

You were my very own sympathetic character.