There's No Hope For Me
I’ve known from the very start that something isn’t quite right with Jason. He’s always been intense, and I’ve grown used to that. But when we met, it was like he was magnetic. It felt like every fiber of my being was compelling me to be with him. Without even knowing him, I knew that he was the one I had been waiting for my entire life. I guess I’m the one that sounds intense now.
But believe me, if you meet him you would know. He can charm the panties off any girl he meets with just a glance. His sultry voice, his rugged good looks, his bright eyes… They’re all tools at his disposal. Tools to get him exactly what he wants. When we met, he wanted me. He was so exciting and adventurous. On our second date, he took me skydiving. I was beyond surprised, but I got caught up in all the adrenaline and… I was already in love.
Jason was so, so pleased when he learned that I was a graduate student. That was perfect for Jason. He’s always been so supportive of me. My faculty mentor, though, doesn’t like him. She’s suspicious, and she says that she’s worried, but I just think she’s jealous. On top of all that, she calls him a psychopath. Of course, it’s not true. I’ve seen Jason laugh, cry, and get angry far too often. And even if he were like that, what would it matter? My mentor also asks me why I don’t leave the house except for class, but it’s none of her business. My mentor and I don’t talk about Jason any more.
Even though Jason is very sweet, he used to scare me. Before my memory was so fragile, I used to feel on edge at some of the things he said. Even through my overwhelming love for him, I felt cornered. That intensity doesn’t just make Jason charming – it makes him a predator. I knew I was his target, and I was thrilled by that. But sometimes, having his undivided attention was daunting. I also knew that he’d had his issues with anger in the past, and I let that intimidate me. When I came to depend on him more and on my own mind less, I stopped having those sorts of feelings. They weren’t productive anyways. It wasn’t helping me help Jason. It wasn’t healthy for our relationship. Who was I to judge someone for their past?
At first, moving in together was strange. But after I began to suffer from the memory loss, we decided it was best. Jason insisted, after all. I’ve always hated being dependent, but our relationship isn’t like that. Jason needs me. I’m no damsel, after all. Everything has always been equal. He does all the cooking, ever since he got concerned about my blackouts and my diets. And I do all of the cleaning. It’s only fair, and Jason tells me that I’m so good at it. At first I didn’t know what the stains were. Later, I stopped caring. A little bit of bleach will go a long way.
I was absolutely terrified the first time I found a girl in our basement. In that moment, my mind felt clearer than it had in months. I screamed and screamed and screamed. But she wasn’t afraid of me, or Jason. When I looked for her next, she had disappeared, along with my memory. Jason shushed me when I asked. He said he was trying to protect me, that it’d be worse for me if he explained it. I started to grow more and more afraid with the more girls I saw. And yet, they were never afraid. They were almost sympathetic – as though Jason had captured and tortured the perfect examples of Stockholm Syndrome. Sometimes I think that I might have it too. Sometimes I think the love is the only thing blocking out the fear that I’ll be next. Often, I think that love is the thing saving my life. Day after day, I wash away the blood. I help him catch the girls. I’m not sure if I operate out of fear, or out of love.
Today, I woke up from one of my memory lapses with a little blonde girl’s blood all over my hands. It was then that I realized that, like his charm, I’m one of Jason’s most powerful, valuable tools. Committing murder keeps me from becoming one of these girls.
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