Pyrrhic victory

She had a talent for emotional cruelty. He apparently had a talent for enduring it. Now she was contemplating leaving. The coup de grace.

And through the wire

He couldn't imagine what it must be like to hear that voice. The voice that said those things. The voice that pretends that nothing happened. And to see inside her head the face that was speaking. To see the smirk of complete possession and conquest. And he couldn't imagine what it was like to live in abject silence.

Another goal missed

I regret that at this late stage, I never managed to master the wry grin.

Merry-go-round

She's exploring the relationship in her head. She thought that he was a flirtatious friend on the computer that really liked her. Then she met him. Then he used her. And now her mind struggles with the mental construct of who she believed him to be and what he was that night. And what is he now? She cannot resolve the conflict, but continues to try.
He understands in the abstract sense, but avoids that hallway.

Her preferred scenario

What happened to her?
I don't know, he replied.
Who did this to her?
I don't know, he replied.
When did it happen?
I don't know, he replied.
Where did it happen?
I don't know, he replied.
Why did it happen?
I don't know, he replied.
Who is she talking to about this?
I don't know, he replied.
What did she tell you?
Nothing.

Autism

He feels everything slipping away. The isolation grows and grows. He influences little. More and more strangers reach into their life and affect how their life together will, or will not, continue. There is nothing that he does that does not seem to cause damage. He has become the source of comforting hugs and not much more. Not even a human being, just a large warm pillow.

Another visit to yet another planet

"Why did he punish me? I behaved." I behaved? Does that mean that she was a good girl because she didn't say "no"? Because she didn't protest? Because she did exactly what she was told to do; she performed as she was told? Because she reassured him that size didn't matter? She spoke as if submissively behaving was worthy of something. A reward? He had never even believed that it was a conscious choice. Christ, he thought, where had reality gone? Why couldn't she understand that it had nothing to do with punishing her and everything to do with the fact that he enjoyed humiliating a woman? That he was a sick, sick son of a bitch? And dear god, why had she said that to him?