My head was pounding and my stomach seemed to cramp up in synchronicity with it. I dreaded opening my eyes fearing the light would make the needles currently attacking the top of my head even more angry. Lying there, as still as possible, an even more sickening feeling, than the one my hangover had to offer, overcame me. This wasn't my bed, this wasn't even my apartment and worst of all, this was not a surreal nightmare. Last night really did happen.
I slowly moved my head, wincing in pain. This wasn't just my hangover making me hurt all over. I could feel every muscle in my body, becoming more aware of them with every second. And the longer I lay there the worse the feeling in my stomach got, with every memory of last night coming back to me.
"Katherine, get up. Breakfast's in the kitchen."
I jerked up, the rest of the world along with my organs followed a few seconds later. My head started pounding even more furiously, making my stomach twist into a tighter knot. Still, I got up and stumbled to the kitchen, naked.
"Well, good morning there Kate. Have some breakfast.", I stood there, not moving.
"Go on, eat. What are you waiting for?", I still didn't move.
"Oh that's right, almost forgot.", He paused for a moment, putting his newspaper down, slowly scanning my pale, shaking body standing in front of him. I could feel my cheeks getting flushed with shame and anger.
"Alright then, have some orange juice instead, but no breakfast, or lunch. And we'll see about supper.", he grinned at me and picked up his newspaper again. I sat down at the table, taking the glass of orange juice handed to me by a young woman.
I felt sick. Far beyond the feeling of cold orange juice hitting my empty stomach, I was completely alone and vulnerable in a strangers home. I had no control over my own body or mind. I was at the mercy of a merciless narcissist with no way out.
"Go on, make yourself descent. I have to head out soon.", he took a last sip of his coffee, fixing me with a stare, "While I'm gone you are to exercise, if she stops, beat her.", his eyes switched to the couple in the kitchen, their eyes kept jumping from him to me, trying not to stay on either for too long. They looked as terrified as I felt.
It didn't take long for me to fulfill his demand, they only had to beat me once, when I was trying to keep the orange juice from resurfacing. Luckily, I guess, I have a tendency to pass out fairly easily. Whenever I'm in a lot of pain my body tends to shut down. That day I lasted about half an hour. The longest I ever managed to hold out in the following days was 3 hours, 32 minutes and 4 beatings.
We changed apartments twice while I was with him, the second one belonging to a family. We had to leave that one rather abruptly. The last apartment belonged to a successful young man, whose name I never learned. I didn't stay long in his apartment, neither did Kilgrave.
He had told me his name some time during the two weeks that he had me under his control. He also told me about his abilities, how exactly he was gifted, how she was too. Jessica Jones. The reason we had to leave the second apartment, the reason he made me starve myself, work my body into the ground. He compared me to her, my weakness to her strength, my plainness to her beauty, my manners to her vulgarity. I didn't measure up, not just in height.
"Jessica knows how to take a punch."
"Jessica is strong, she doesn't go down so easily."
"This is your own fault. You wanted this. You told me yourself. I am just trying to help you, to improve you. Your mind isn't strong enough. Well, mine is! Jessicas is! Jessica's not as weak and broken as yours. You're broken because you let people break you. You're breakable! Look at you! Look at yourself! You are weak! Your body is weak! Your mind is weak! You are nothing like her! Nothing like me!"
He was right. It was my fault. My body was weak and so was my mind, I'd said it myself. During my first night he had asked me if I considered myself to be strong. I'd said no.
"Why?"
"My mind is weak. It's the way I think, what I think, how I see myself, my own body."
He'd told me to explain myself.
"I am depressed. I-I suffer from mental illness, depression, anxiety disorder, eating disorder. I see myself as fat and ugly, as worthless and a burden to others."
"Are you serious? Mental illness? What you got that for?"
"I am serious. I don't know why I have it, it's been with me for a while now. It'll always be with me, I guess."
He just looked at me, I could see the disgust in his face. I felt sick, I'd lain my soul bare in front of this man. He had made me tell him things I couldn't even admit to myself yet.
"You know what. I am going to help you. I'm going to be a hero, show Jessica that I can change, that I too can help people. You have a weak, broken mind? Well, good thing I can control minds then! I mean it's all just in your head, isn't it?", he smiled excitedly at me, "Aren't you lucky you met me?"
"Yes"