The Host

"Whore. You're worthless. You're nothing!"

I hiss at the host whose mind I inhabit. I despise her. She is a fragile crate that I am inexorably bound to. She must exist for me to be, and for that, I hate her. "You are a scum. You are nothing."

She starts to sob. God, she is weak. "Stop crying, you wench. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Stop talking to me. So she has a voice of her own. I was beginning to think she was mute. You're not real.

Well, that really sets me off. This isn't the fist time she has used that argument. Like all the times before, I disagree. "Not real, am I? Let me tell you, I am as real as you are, missy. I am more so than anyone. You can pop as many pills as you like, I will still be here." The pills. I loath them. They push me backwards, making it harder to stay conscious. They make it more difficult to reach out to my host. My only chance is to fight and batter her to stop taking the damn things.

You're not real. You are only in my mind, and the medication helps to keep you silent. I will not stop taking them. You're a figment of my psychosis.

Hah. "That is a lie, whore. I'm here, aren't I? You can hear me. Don't start that shit again."

I am sick. You are a symptom. That's it. And you will go away, eventually.

Sick. That is ridiculous. Not only does she hear me, but I hear myself. I am here, and I am real. I am not some vague figment of another's imagination. "Listen you me, you fuck. I don't like this situation any more than you do, but I sure as hell am as solid as you are. I may not have a body, but I have a soul, and it is linked to your own. My soul will take over yours, and I will be victorious. I will beat you." That ought to shut her up.

And it does. For a moment. She keeps on sobbing in silence. Then she rises from her chair, and goes to the kitchen. I follow (what choice do I have?). She opens a cabinet and takes out a jar of pills. "Oh no, you don't! You fucking whore, if you take even one of those things, I will kill you! I will batter you until you can't think for yourself, and I will take over your mind and live inside your body for all eternity. Do you hear me?! Do not dare take that shit! Don't you dare!"

The sobbing becomes louder and more frequent. The sound is drumming against me. She hesitates, staring at the jar in her hands. "Put it down, you. Put it down, or I will never leave you alone." I can hear her thoughts. She thinks that it is best to take the meds, like her doctor says, but she wants to shut me up, and by putting away the pills, she knows I won't be frantic all night. It is a hard decision for her. I don't see why. That fucking doc can go to hell. I'd strangle him if I could. Eventually she opens the jar and quickly pops a pill. I become outraged. "You fuck! I told you not to take them! You should listen to me, you whore! I will never leave you alone, I will beat you, and I will hurt you, as much as I possibly can! You think you're so much better than me, but you're so far from me as you ever could be. You are a meaningless excuse for a human being, and your mind is weak. You are completely powerless, and you live at the mercy of my will! I will corrupt you form the inside! I will make sur-

Shut up.

What was that? A small voice, almost too quiet for me to hear, but loud enough still. I can hear all of her thoughts. "What did you say?"

Shut up. I can't focus.

So the girl got some balls. Who would have known. "I'll never shut up, little lady. No matter how many pills you pop, I will be here and make your existence a fucking misery. Believe me, I will."

The girl shakes her head. I know she will go straight to bed now. When I'm angry, she never has the ability to focus on anything, just like she said. She cannot think for her own, but only hear me shout. She will go to sleep, after a few hours of rambling from me.

I am right. She changes into her nightie - "you even look like a whore in that" - and creeps down in her bed. I attack her as hard as I can for trying to quench me with pills, but she ignores me. Eventually I feel the drowsiness taking over her, making it more difficult not to rest. Sleep does come, and I am cast aside. I work through her dreams instead, punishing her with the most horrid nightmares I can come up with. She deserves to be punished. She has no regard for me.

In the morning, the host rises slowly. She is scared, the dreams have taken their toll. I am still weak after her rest, and so I cannot shout at her as she takes another pill. I feel myself drifting away from her mind, and no matter how I try to cling to it, I am pushed away, swearing to return.