Mark Pov:

After a bought of nightmares, Jason finally got sick of my screaming, and slapped me awake.

"Good morning, handsome…" he traced my jaw, and I groaned angrily.

"What now, Jason?" I asked, sitting up after he tied my arms again.

"Marky, don't get snappy. I'm gonna be nice today. I suppose I should feed you."

Food. That was new. I had been used to going days without eating, so hunger didn't really occur to me until Jason mentioned it. My stomach betrayed me, growling in protest.

Jason picked me up over his shoulder, and I muttered at him until he put me down in my chair. Tying me down, extra tight this time, he pushed a little table in front of me. He pulled up a chair for himself.

"You sit tight. I'll go get us something." He leaned down, kissing my cheek, and I snorted, trying to bite his face. He pulled away just in time though. "Awww, Mark! don't push your luck, or someone's gonna get a muzzle!" he pinched my face before bounding up the stairs, and slamming the door. I looked around, wondering where the fuck I was.

I started thinking about Roger. I wanted nothing more to be back in his arms, or stroke his hair, or kiss him. He must be going crazy. I felt so guilty. If I could, id get out of my ropes, get a bat, and lay into Jason. I wasn't afraid anymore. I was downright pissed.

I remembered the days when I thought I was so in love with him. He had always been unstable. The doctors would always watch me warily when I picked up his medication, looking for bruises I guess. Jason had half the mentality of a child. He was damaged. I thought I could fix him. I tried, anyway. He had two sides. The sweet, gentle side I fell in love with, and the angry, hateful, snarling side that had beaten, and insulted me the other day.

He was like me in high school. Invisible. He had parents who cared about all the wrong things. They dismissed him when he was hurting, calling him "dramatic", dictating that everyone had it worse than him, and refusing him medication, or help. The school counselors, when I had gone with him, holding his hand, said it was highly recommended he go for therapy. He was diagnosed with depression, and bipolar disorder when were finally old enough to go without parental consent.

This gave the kids at school an even bigger reason to harass him. They picked on the both of us. We were "the pair of queens". Jason only got worse. He started skipping his meds, and becoming even more reckless. It was becoming obvious he didn't want me around anymore. He started ignoring me, avoiding me, and pretty soon, he started lashing out at me. I kept trying to help, but it was obvious things were getting worse for us both.

We had gone to college together at Brown, of course. A few days before I dropped out, I broke things off. I went to New York, and I never looked back. I guess it finally caught up to me.

Maybe I should attempt to play along with Jason's antics. Earning his trust might even result in him not tying me up anymore. When we used to date, paying attention to him always calmed him down. I wondered how I could ever forget.

He soon came back downstairs, carrying two plates. It smelled… nice. He took his seat next to mine, and smiled, setting a plate down in front of me.

"Steak?" I asked. Steak, mashed potatoes, and carrots. My favorite meal. I hadn't had it since high school. Jason nodded eagerly.

"Your favorite. See, I remember!" I offered a wary smile. He brightened up as he saw me happy. Maybe this plan would work after all. I began to get nervous, though.

"You didn't.. do anything to it, did you?" he started giggling.

"No, silly! want some?"

I sighed. "S-sure…"

He cut off a piece of the steak, and brought it to my mouth. I took a bite, chewing a little. It tasted fine. I nodded at him.

"This is very good, Jason." He grinned at my comment, and stroked my hair.

"I'm very glad you think so. See? was it so hard to be respectful?"

It took everything I had not to spit in his face again. I forced a grin as he continued to feed me. He let me drink water, and we even managed to hold a normal conversation. Once everything was said and done, Jason helped me up from my chair.

"You've been such a good boy tonight." he stated. I looked down in humiliation. I felt like a child. He steered me towards the dark room. I tensed up. "No, it's okay…" he murmured, stepping ahead, and turning the light on. It was actually a bedroom.

A decent sized bed, a nightstand beside it, and nothing else. It occurred to me I didn't realize they were there before because I was tied up in the center of the floor, last time.

"I… can sleep here?" I asked, and Jason nodded. He held up a key, and I gazed at it.

"I'm locking you in for safe keeping, just in case you get any ideas…" he untied me as an added blessing, and shoved me in.

"Don't I get a light? Please Jason, please… I hate the dark, I hate it…" he shook his head.

"Don't push your luck, Marky. Try not to have another panic attack and die."

As the door slammed, and darkness enveloped me, I started to get anxious. I felt my way around, and finally managed to lie down on the bed. I curled up, not bothering to touch the musty smelling blankets, and closing my eyes, like that made any sort of difference.

I breathed in through my nose, and out through my mouth, like Roger had always helped me to do when I was upset. For a second, I started to pretend he was with me. I kept trying to recall his scent, how his arms felt around me, and for awhile, it started helping. As long as I remembered why I was pretending to obey Jason, as long as I knew what I was fighting for, everything would hopefully be okay.