You were drunk on fine spirits, on the precipice of belligerence, trapping me between your body and the door - its knob in my back. "What the fuck are you doing?" I asked calmly cautious, but could see that your pupils were pinpricks, even in the dim. "Tell me all about it. Every little detail. I need to know the who, what, why, how, when of that stupid video." And I realized I was being mocked; for talking too much, for needing someone to share stream of consciousness with. It confirmed what I'd suspected for so long; that I'm not human to you - just a possession that you can molest whenever you want.