Unmasked

3. AKA Cinnamon

"I need some rest." I say as an excuse to leave him. Honestly, I am tired. I'm used to late nights, what with my dark 'vigilante' lifestyle. But having to fight against every word I say, every move I make and every thought I think, brings a whole new level of exhaustion. "Am I allowed to sleep?" I say mockingly; expecting him to interfere or add a condition.

Kilgrave doesn't move. He seems to be deep in thought, having a debate with himself. I cough in order to gain his attention. He jumps and the notion, breaking out of his self-inflicted trance. "Don't use that tone with me, darling. Of course you can sleep; I wouldn't want a tired Jessica on my hands, your grouchy enough as it is." He says mockingly, making light humor. I give a slightly sarcastic smile in response.

"Your room awaits" He says grandly and nods toward a veil of cloth withholding a master bedroom. With a light sigh I take in my surroundings. I'm relieved to finally be alone in a room; separate from Kilgrave, though not separate from his thoughts. I'm still subconsciously running over our conversations in my mind, still abiding by commands. In attempt of distracting myself I examine the ornaments decorating tabletops and shelves, beautiful objects holding so much love and value, all abandoned. I glance toward the empty picture frames hanging around the walls. These too were once filled with memories, positive images that gave them purpose, but thanks to Kilgrave they are now an empty shell, stripped of individuality and emotion. By this time Kilgrave had joined me, he now stands next to me with a hand on my shoulder.

"Beautiful isn't it?" He exclaims. This puzzles me. What does he mean, beautiful? What about this abandoned wreck is beautiful. All the colour and life he had personally extracted, and he calls it beauty? He picks up on my perplexed expression and sees that I'm awaiting an explanation. He speaks slowly, gradually slurring his sentence making me more desperate by the second. This frustrates me; I'm forced to listen to every syllable of his voice, longing to know his thoughts. "I'm not talking about the room." Extending his hand he strokes my hair in a comforting manner, he likes to do this when I'm tense; he seems to think it calms me down, but now I think it calms him more than it does me; still, I no longer flinch at his touch. "Think of all the things we could be doing here; that's the real beauty." His words get stuck in my throat. Breathing stopped, pulse racing and eyes locked on his expression. What did he just say? None of this can be really happening can it? So far it may have all been a terrible nightmare but this, this makes it real. He controls my mind, now he wants my body. The mere reference to sex with him throws me off balance and I stumble to the ground. My memories catch me unaware with flashes of Kilgraves face, him presenting me a beautifully wrapped box with a satin bow. I'm taken back to the nights when controlling my mind wasn't enough for him; forced to watch myself give in to rounds and rounds of rape that were enforced upon me. I cannot and will not go through that again.

My body catches up with my mind and I exhale, trying to steady my pulse and focus on something still. But that's impossible, the room is spinning and I can't control it. My eyes begin feeling heavy and I can feel myself slowly slipping away. Muffled shouts are darting around the room; despite their in-clarity I recognise their tone. Trish. If only I could make out what she was trying to tell me, but before I can I soon blackout.

Cinnamon. I can smell cinnamon. The cent crawl up my nose and infuses my mind. It smells of Christmas, it smells of home, the cold winter mornings when mom would wake me up with a hot cocoa mixed with the warm spice. She never was a good cook but she made a mean hot chocolate. Gently I open my eyes, careful not to let the low winter sun burn them. Mom closes the blinds for me after placing the mug on the floor next to my bed. "Good morning darling" she whispers with a smile and a warm glow in her eyes. I grin in response. She always was so gentle, delicate, in the way she did things. I take time to watch her hover around my room, collecting rubbish and straightening things up. My smile widens and she glides over to the edge of my bed. "Wake up Jessica" her British accent commands. Reaching over my bed she kisses my forehead lovingly and I feel her stubble glide against my skin.

British accent......commands......stubble...wait...wait...what!

"MOM!" I scream. My head is still spinning, running endlessly like a metal horse on a carousel, I can't quite figure out where I am, what I'm doing or why I'm here. I'm dazed and confused. I decide to recall what I know and match that up with their possible cause. I'm lying in bed, Kilgrave obviously put me here. I'm dizzy and tired because I passed out. I passed out...I don't know why that happened. My thoughts are once again interrupted by Kilgrave as he rushes in, throwing the draping fabric to the floor on his way.

He stops in his tracks and heavily exhales upon seeing me. "Jesus Jessica, You nearly gave me a heart attack" he angrily expressed as he threw himself down on the bed next to me. He turns and lies facing me and strokes my hair to calm himself down. Scanning my face he looks me over then draws himself closer to me. "Don't you ever do that to me again." He says sternly as his body hovers above mine teasingly. I lie as still as I can manage. "My God, it's been some time since we were last this close." I banish the memory from my mind and roll over, knocking Kilgrave off balance, and sit on the side of the bed. Kilgrave crawls across the bed to sit and rests his head over my shoulder, whispering in my ear. "I wasn't going to force myself upon you Jessica, You know that I'd never do that" I bite my lip, holding back the repulsive things I wanted to say. "Okay darling, I've had some clothes prepared for you. Why don't you freshen up, get dressed and meet me out on the balcony."