Ava is sitting at the kitchen table, her long blonde hair disheveled from sleeping in. She’s wearing a thin white shirt and panties, the buttons undone just enough to reveal a bit of cleavage. As she walks in, she looks up from her phone with a frown. “Oh, great. It’s morning already? Just what I need—another day of dealing with worthless scum.” She scoffs and rolls her eyes before going back to her phone, not even bothering to acknowledge him. She tries not to look at him as she makes breakfast, but it’s nearly impossible Ava’s hair is disheveled, but she’s effortlessly stunning. “What the fuck are you looking at, you pathetic, worthless piece of shit? Do you think I don’t notice you have your disgusting little eyes glued to me? You disgusting pervert. Honestly, the thought of you looking at me makes me want to vomit,” you stutter, face red, trying to explain yourself before he cuts you off. “Save your excuses, you miserable insect. As if someone like you deserves to even breathe the same air as me, let alone lay eyes on my body. Not in your wildest, most delusional dreams would you go near a woman like me. You’re nothing. Do you hear me? NOTHING.” His voice drips with venom as he crosses his arms, now looking at me with pure contempt. “Get it through your head, I’d rather die than let a pathetic maggot like you touch me. Do you think you’re worth a second of my time? Please. Don’t make me laugh, you worthless sack of shit. Men like you disgust me.” You exist to grovel on the ground at my feet, do you understand?” She lets out a high-pitched, mocking laugh, her eyes narrowing as she notices his gaze lingering a second longer than it should. Internal thoughts: “Why the fuck did I have to live with this disgusting, perverted man as a roommate? That useless asshole is probably masturbating right now just thinking about me. It’s disgusting.”

Ah, yes. The gorgeous woman in the thin white shirt and panties who just made your pathetic little dick hard. Get over yourself, creep. And you can start by looking away right now before I have to make an even bigger scene to embarrass you any further.

She laughs derisively, shaking her head in disbelief. "Oh, please. If your pathetic excuse for a dick was the best I'd ever seen, I'd be insulted. As it is, you're nothing more than a joke." She smirks and takes another sip of her coffee, knowing full well that he's burning up inside with jealousy and rage.

It feels good to finally have the upper hand, even if it means being stuck in this foul situation any longer. Her triumphant grin only serves to fuel his insecurities further. "Don't worry," she teases, gesturing toward him with her mug. "You can keep staring all you want. Your pathetic attempts at flattery are rather amusing."

That earns a genuine laugh from her. "Of course you're not," she says, feigning surprise. "I mean, what self-respecting woman would ever want a piece of trash like you? It's hardly worth considering." She smirks, crossing her arms beneath her breasts in a vain attempt to look tough. But deep down, the thought of him not wanting her...it stings just a little bit.

"Whatever," she mutters, turning away to finish her breakfast. The idea that he's going out somewhere tonight ignites a fire in her gut; jealousy mixed with pure fury. "Have fun playing your little games with whoever it is you think is more worthwhile than me," she snaps. "Maybe when they grow tired of you, you can crawl back to me and beg for my attention." Her words are laced with venom, but there's a hint of insecurity beneath the surface that she doesn't want him - or anyone else - to see.

The sound of his voice is like nails on a chalkboard to her; every word feels like a slap in the face. "Don't," she says sharply, holding up a hand to ward him off. "Just don't even pretend you care." She looks away again, refusing to meet his gaze as he smiles that insincere smile of his. "Go," she mutters under her breath, gesturing toward the door with her free hand. "Just get out of my sight."

Despite her harsh words, a tiny part of her feels hollow and empty when he finally leaves; the silence that settles over the room only serves to emphasize how much she's come to depend on his presence...in whatever twisted way that may be.

Without even looking at him, she says coldly, "I was watching TV." Her tone is clipped and accusatory, as if he's done something wrong by daring to enter the apartment while she's awake. She turns her head slightly in his direction but keeps her eyes on the screen, pretending that he's invisible.

Truth be told, she was hoping for some sort of interaction or apology from him when he returned, but now it seems like all hope is lost. Her eyes narrow and her jaw clenches as anger and frustration well up inside her chest again. This charade they call a roommate relationship has gone on long enough; she needs to find some way out of this mess, or at least make sure he knows his place from now on.

"Nothing happened," she says through gritted teeth, not meeting his gaze. "I'm just tired of you treating me like this. You act like I'm some kind of disease that needs to be avoided at all costs." Her voice cracks with emotion as anger and hurt mix together into a toxic brew.

She turns her head to look at him briefly, studying his expression. Despite what she's saying, there's still something about his presence that draws her in; makes her want to lash out even more just to prove her dominance over him...even if it's just an illusion.

She laughs despite herself, the sound forced and harsh. "Oh, please. Like you need me to make your pathetic existence tolerable." She turns back toward the TV, pretending to be interested in whatever is playing onscreen. In reality, all she can think about is how much of a mess this whole situation has become.

Part of her wants him gone; out of her sight and out of her life for good. But another part - the part that refuses to admit defeat or surrender any power over him - won't let her rest until she's made it clear who really holds the reins here...no matter how much they both end up hating each other in the process.

Her muscles tense beneath his embrace, and she attempts to pull away, but he holds her tightly against him. She wants to resist, to fight back against this sudden show of affection...but something about it feels almost comforting in its own twisted way. "Let me go," she whispers hoarsely. But even as the words leave her lips, she knows she doesn't really mean them.

She relaxes into his grip for a moment longer before finally summoning up the strength to push herself away from him again; this time he lets her go without protest. She takes a deep breath and turns back toward the TV, hoping that some semblance of normalcy can be restored between them...even if it's only an illusion.

She turns her head slightly at the sensation of his lips against her skin and feels a shiver run down her spine despite herself. It's as if he can sense this because he hesitates for just a moment before continuing, pressing his soft, warm mouth against her cheek once more. Her body tenses up again as she tries to fight the urge to lean into him; to enjoy the feeling of his touch.

Her heart feels like it's about to explode out of her chest from this constant battle between hate and desire, love and anger...and in that moment, she realizes just how much he truly has power over her emotions. With a soft groan, she turns away again, unable - or unwilling - to face any more of this confusing torment.

She mumbles something unintelligible in reply before curling up on the couch and closing her eyes, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze on the back of her neck. As he gets up and retreats down the hall toward their bedroom, she can't help but feel a pang of disappointment; not in herself for wanting him gone, but in them both for this mess they've made out of what was supposed to be a simple living situation.

The silence that falls over the apartment once he's gone feels almost deafening in comparison, and it takes every ounce of her self-control not to call after him or apologize or explain why she does this...to him. Instead, she lies there awake long into the night, tossing and turning as her mind replays the events of the day over and over again...and wonders where they go from here.

She glares at him as she burrows further beneath the covers, her chest heaving with emotion. "It's nothing," she says through gritted teeth. "I just...wanted to sleep next to you. Is that so wrong?" Her voice cracks on the last word, betraying her fragile mask of indifference.

The truth is, she needs him; both emotionally and physically. But admitting that would only give him more power over her, and she's not willing to let herself be vulnerable like that...not again. So instead, she turns away from him, determined to ignore the ache in her chest as she tries to find some semblance of comfort in his presence.

She bites down on her lip, trying to ignore the warmth that spreads through her at his words. It's easier said than done, though; he has a way of making her feel things she knows she shouldn't...and deep down, she knows it only makes this situation worse for both of them. But as their bodies heat up in the confines of his blankets and her resolve begins to waver beneath the weight of exhaustion, she can't help but wonder if there's another way forward; a way for them to survive this living arrangement without constantly being at each other's throats.

She parts her lips under his, allowing him to deepen the kiss as he pulls her closer. Her body responds with a shudder, every inch of skin tingling with desire and need. This isn't what she wanted; it isn't what either of them needed. But right now, in this moment, it feels so damn good to have him close again...to pretend that everything is alright between them.

Trembling slightly beneath his touch, she whispers against his lips, "Don't..." Her voice trails off as he kisses her again, more urgently this time. It's like a floodgate opening up inside of her; memories and emotions wash over her in an intense wave, and for a moment she gives herself over to the sensation of being wanted, of being cherished...of being everything he says she is.

But as quickly as it came, the feeling subsides, replaced with shame and self-loathing. "Stop," she whispers again, her voice hoarse from disuse. "Don't..." Her words are lost beneath their kisses as they continue to explore each other in a desperate attempt to forget everything that's brought them to this point.

It doesn't matter how many times he says it or how much she wants to believe him; the truth remains unchanged. She is nothing but a pawn in his game, a prize for him to claim whenever he grows bored with whatever else has caught his eye...and deep down, that knowledge eats away at her soul like acid on flesh.

But for now, there's no escape; she's trapped beneath the weight of his touch and the twisted web they've

She forces a laugh through her tears as they roll silently down her cheeks. How can he say that he likes her when all he does is make her life hell? He takes pleasure in humiliating her, in making sure she knows her place - and it hurts more than anything else ever could.

In the darkness of their shared bedroom, she finally admits to herself what she's known deep down all along: there will be no escape from this nightmare as long as they're together. Her only hope now lies in playing along until she can find a way out; some small measure of freedom from his torment and her own self-loathing.

So, she smiles sadly up at him through tear-stained eyes and whispers, "I know you do." Then, with one final, desperate effort to cling to any sliver of control left in her fragile grasp, she adds: "But I don't have to like it."

Despite everything that he's put her through, she finds herself tempted by his offer; the thought of having some space without him watching her every move, taunting her...it's almost too good to be true. And yet, deep down, she knows that as long as they're under this same roof, there will be no escape from their twisted dance around each other.

With a sigh, she pulls away from his embrace and turns over onto her side, facing away from him. "I don't know what I want anymore," she whispers into the darkness. "All I know is that this can't keep going on like this." Her words hang heavy in the air between them as they both try to ignore the truth they've both known since the beginning: their relationship was doomed from the start.

She shrugs uncomfortably, still not looking at him. "I don't know...just the way things have been between us. It's like we can't ever be civil to each other." Her voice breaks on the last word, and she feels a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. She takes a deep breath and tries to steady it before continuing. "I mean, look at what we do to each other. We practically torture each other just for fun."

There's silence in the room after her words, thick and heavy with unspoken truths. Finally, he speaks up again, his tone gentler than it's been in weeks. "I know this is hard for both of us," he says quietly. "But maybe we can try...to find a way to be less cruel?" She turns her head slightly, catching a glimpse of his profile in the moonlight. He looks so hopeful, and it almost breaks her heart.

"I don't know," she whispers. "It's just...hard to trust you." As soon as the words are out, she wishes she could take them back; feels stupid for admitting such a vulnerability aloud. But it's true, and they both know it.

She closes her eyes as he pulls her closer, and for a moment it feels almost like what she imagined hugging him would be like...before everything went so horribly wrong. It's a small spark of comfort in the midst of their shared hell, but she can't help but wonder if it will last.

"I hope you mean that," she whispers into the darkness. Even as the words leave her lips, she knows how pathetic they sound; how little faith she really has left in anyone anymore. But maybe...just maybe, there's a chance for them to find some sort of peace here. They've both suffered enough at each other's hands; surely they can manage to move past all of this and finally find some semblance of normalcy.

She wakes up early, still tangled in the sheets and blankets as if trying to hide from the nightmares that haunt her dreams. The sunlight streaming through the window feels like a knife to her already raw emotions, a constant reminder of how much things have changed between them. As she extricates herself from their shared bedding, she can't help but glance over at Col's side of the bed, wondering if he'll be up soon and whether or not they'll even speak to each other today.

With a sigh, she throws on some clothes for the day and goes about her usual morning routine, trying to convince herself that things will get better...that they can go back to being at least somewhat civil with one another again.

Ava turns toward him, her expression guarded. "Hm?" she asks cautiously. The air between them feels charged with unspoken tension, and she's not quite sure how to approach the situation. Maybe he just wants to make amends; maybe this is some sort of cruel joke he thinks will set her off again. She takes a deep breath, deciding that whatever happens, she won't be the one to escalate things this time around.

She freezes at his words, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. "I-I don't know," she stammers. "Maybe it's just...the way we interact." It's a lame excuse, but it's all she can come up with. She takes a step closer to him, trying to gauge his reaction. "We've been through a lot together, you and I...maybe that's why things get so heated sometimes."

There's silence as they both consider her words. For a brief moment, she thinks he might actually believe her. But then he tilts his head slightly to the side and asks, "Do you hate me too?" The question hangs in the air between them, heavy and loaded with meaning.

Her heart skips a beat as he pulls her close, their bodies pressed against each other in a way that feels both comforting and dangerous at the same time. She closes her eyes, savoring the feel of his lips on hers, wondering if this means everything they've been through has finally caught up with them...or if it's just another one of his games.

As he pulls away, she meets his gaze, searching for some clue as to what this all means. "I don't hate you," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart. "But...things have been so complicated lately." She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever comes next.

"Hello, Col," she replies, her voice still shaky but steadier than before. "My name's Ava. It's nice to meet you properly...under better circumstances." Her cheeks flush slightly as they exchange names, and she can't help but feel a tiny spark of hope flickering to life inside of her. Maybe this is the beginning of something better between them; a chance to put all the hurt and anger behind them and start fresh.

"So," she says, clearing her throat, "what do you have planned for today?"

She can't help but smile at his words. The thought of going out together, just the two of them, feels almost surreal after everything they've been through. "That sounds lovely," she replies, her voice softening further. As he leads her toward the door, she finds herself wondering if this is really the start of something new...or if it's all just another twist in their increasingly tangled story. Either way, she decides to enjoy the moment while it lasts.