AN: In honor of the sort of Ryou we hate -

"I forgive you." He squeaks, his voice weak from disuse. It would appear that being locked in a small room for three days leaves one starved for such meager social interaction. Funny, I didn't even gag him this time. He could have talked with himself. Remind me why I let him out again? His voice is already grating on my nerves.

"I forgive -" Cut off by the pain, this time. Good, I was tired of listening to that - Wailing always sounds better than speech. He can't speak while I pull his nails from his fingertips, can he? I do wish he would stop hyperventilating - I hate it when he does that. I've pulled the last fingernail out now, I'll just put it in this little jar by his arm. He's stil whimpering, still cringing. Oh! I know, I'll help. I plunge his hands into a large bowl on the edge of the table. It isn't anything but bleach and salt water, but if it stops him from complaining about the pain later, it is worth it to listen to him scream. You would think by the way he was acting, that I had just doused his hands with acid. "I forgive...I forgive you.." He cringes, gasping as he speaks.

Always, "I forgive you."

"Its okay, Ryou. Because I forgive you." It feels odd to even be speaking to him. I don't know why I just said that.

He looks up at me, his eyes widening in puzzlement. It is like his pathetic brain can't process what I just said.

I didn't think you had the capacity to give me such a puzzled expression. I suppose you wonder why I would have it in me to forgive someone like you?

He nods, slowly, biting his lip as he fights back a low whimper - I know he can't really control those.

"Well, I suppose I should start with why I would forgive you in the first place."

His face screws up into a look of pure confusion. I fear I may have just caused his mind to break. He is wondering why I would have it in my heart to forgive him, perhaps?

Stupid boy, you need to be forgiven. Otherwise, my hatred for you would blind me to what I need. Ah, perhaps you wonder what you need to be forgiven for.. I suppose I can tell you that.

"Every time you scream, you hurt my ears. Your screams cause my head to throb - so loud. You're much too loud."

He holds his breath, as if he's trying to avoid making any kind of sound at all. Stop it. I hate that. Make noise for me. He can't hold his breath for very long though, he's learned that it is never a good idea. I might make sure he never breathes again.

"You hurt my hands each time I have to hit you. My beautiful hands have become calloused, hardened from holding these tools. Even now, my hands are aching."

His eyes wander to the pliers on the table, the discarded hammer, the knives in the corner of the room, dusty from disuse. Then, for some reason, his eyes fall onto his own hands, his fingers still deep in the little solution I had concocted - just for him. What else could I use my hands for, if not for this? These little things are going to see a lot of use over time.

"My eyes sting whenever I have to look at you - your pathetic looks cause me pain."

As if on cue, he gives me the most disgusting look he can muster. His eyes, so hurt, so hurt. Don't look away, now!

I don't deserve this.

"I forgive you because you deserve to be forgiven."

He still doesn't understand. "I'm sorry.." He speaks softly this time, his eyes moist from another onslaught of tears. The pain must be too much, hm?

At least when I tell you something - unlike you -

I don't lie.

- We forgive you.