A whole year. That's long enough to do just about anything. Travel the world, move apartments, even make a new life, if you wanted. Except Jessica Jones didn't want that. Any of it.
But she did.
She could have made a dozen lists of things she hadn't wanted to do in that year; move out of her apartment, stop talking to Trish, keep her hair short, wear bright dresses and purple gowns- the list could go on forever, it felt. But, what she wished she could escape most of all was Kilgrave. She hated that goddamn psychopath more than anything, and all with a smile on her face that she couldn't wipe off. She had heard her parents tell her countless times that "hate was a strong word," but she could never make it strong enough. Without a doubt, this had been the worst year of her life. And it just seemed to keep going.
"Come along Jessica," his chipper voice requested, beckoning the woman with an outstretched arm.
"Take my hand."
Her hand slipped into his, fingers lacing into his obediently. Her face was dull and empty, the hollows of her cheeks echoing down to her jaw. Kilgrave glanced over at her, grimacing for a split second at the transparent deadness of her face.
"Well there's no need to make a fuss, darling," he quipped, pretending to mistake her expression for one of boredom.
"Your only job is to make sure she comes with us." As if he could do that himself.

"How about a smile?" He squeezed her hand with a cheerfully expectant expression.
'Screw you' she thought, before an overwhelming urge to flash him a winning smile washed over her mind. Her plump lips were painted a sterile red, which she wanted to wipe onto the back of her hand. He insisted it framed her face, and so, it stayed on.
Nodding in satisfaction, the man redirected his attention to the sparking high-rise that towered over them, casting an intimidating shade over the pair. He craned his neck upward, squinting and parting his lips with the expression. His eyes ran up the reflective glass, resting finally at the sharply rectangular top. Yep, this was the place. He swallowed in a mix of anticipation and somber dread. He finally had the woman who-
He found himself shoved to the side, pulling a stumbling Jessica limply with him.
"Get out of the damn sidewalk," the grey-suited man barked, beginning to continue his determined walk to work.
"You get out of the bloody sidewalk," he snapped angrily. The man stopped suddenly, and changed his course, drifting off of the pavement and onto the curb of the road. A bustling yellow taxi honked loudly, swerving to avoid the man now continuing his journey in the gutter between the traffic and the pedestrians. Kilgrave rolled his eyes. He looked over at Jessica, still smiling sweetly, and let out a long exhale. Time to get to work.

The couple approached the door, and Kilgrave pulled Jessica closer to him, moving his face within inches of her neck. The smell of her hair was intoxicating, and he felt his stomach pulling in excitement. After this, they would celebrate. He let his nose brush her earlobe, and she flinched. Kilgrave frowned deeply.

"Take my arm." He whispered, and she did, draping one hand over the indigo threading of his blazer, and supporting her grip with the other. He pulled his head away and straightened his posture, beginning to move forward confidently once again. Within a number of feet, they were stopped by a door man of intimidating stature, who began to open his mouth to speak.

Jessica wanted to be sick. Did he seriously just smell her hair? In the street? Not only was that immensely creepy, it also showed a smug sense of exhibitionism that made her stomach turn. That idiot probably made some cocky quip to himself too. Yet, as they approached the building, she found herself clinging to her arm like some sort of lost child, a brittle smile pasted across her face. Every time he told her to smile, the less she imagined she would ever be able to do so naturally again. That dude was like a real-life dementor. The smiling wasn't so bad as the kissing, though. Oh god, she hated kissing him. "A kiss, Jessica," he would command absently, eyes fixed on a newspaper. "How about a peck?" The thing she found most disturbing was the duality of her feelings. Every cell in her body screamed to run away, to scream, "Don't touch me," to push him away with the full force of her strength, but as soon as he made a request, a rosy haze flooded her vision. Her thoughts changed abruptly to the intense desire to do whatever tedious task he had asked of her, as if it were the most rewarding thing in the world. All the while, like a little echo in her head, she heard "stop, don't do it, please stop," and that was the part that disgusted her the most. She was always the strongest person she knew, but somehow, he was stronger. Always stronger. Even in her thoughts.

"Let us in, and don't tell anyone we were here." The doorman blinked slowly before stepping back, pulling the chrome handle of the frame with him. The two stepped inside. Kilgrave lead them to the elevator, and upon seeing the sensor embedded in the stainless steel of the wall, he beckoned a nearby woman into the space with them.

"What's your name?" he demanded.

"Josephine." She responded automatically.

"Do you live here," he looked her up and down. "Josephine?" Jessica felt her gag reflex twinge. How could he look at people like they were on display for him to take? With a pang of guilt, she felt herself being thankful that he wasn't looking at her. How shitty is that?

"On the 14th floor." She said with a smile. The burgundy of her lipstick had left a streak on her front teeth. Jessica watched Kilgrave curl his lip in disgust before settling on a face of disappointed disinterest. He looked up at his reflection in the mirror adorning the ceiling.

"Take us to the 16th." The woman pulled out her key card unquestioningly, tapping it against the sensor and pressing the button marked with a 16.

"Wait," Kilgrave looked at Jessica. "take the card from her. We may need it later."

She let go of his arm, finally, and plucked the card from Josephine's fingers.

"Well go on then, get out." He dismissed the woman with a roll of his eyes and a flick of his wrist. She spun on her heels and existed the elevator. The heavy doors closed with a soft click. Kilgrave stepped back and inspected Jessica's stature, staring at her hair, her lips, and finally resting at the card in her hand. He reached down and retrieved it, muttering to himself about sloppy lipstick as he did.

'As If you could do any better,'

"Finally, the two of us, about to meet the Reva Connors. You should be smiling! Aren't you excited?" he was beginning to feel the anticipating boiling in his stomach.

Jessica let a thin smile flash across her face.

"No. I'd rather be anywhere but here." She replied firmly, the softest hint of desperation cutting into her voice. Kilgrave exhaled sharply.

"Be quiet." So ungrateful. "What is the point of speaking at all if you don't have anything nice to say?" She stood silently, unable to answer his question, but with a piercing resentment in her eyes that made him shift uncomfortably. Their wordless feud was abruptly ended by the cheerful ping of the elevator.

"Brighten up. This is where the fun starts." Dread seeped into his voice unconsciously. Jessica's back straightened and her smile widened broadly. She really meant what she had said. She would rather be anywhere than here.