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2.

There wasn't alot I could do to avoid Dorian. I mean, he was always right there, no matter where I went. If it was at the handful of table reads we attended or costume fittings for Jack, Dorian was always there to remind me of his existence.

I wanted nothing more than to forget that he was a person I've interacted with before but there he was, reminding me that I could never get the things I wanted.

"Play nice." It was Jack's way of putting me in my place, whispering it over to me every time we did something related to the movie.

It wasn't fair, Jack taking Dorian's side. It was like he knew how much of a dick that guy was but instead of calling him out, he just swallowed it down and made it seem like the blame was on me.

There were moments I wanted to rebel, wanting to tell off Jack and Dorian every time he glanced in my direction. It was like, every time he looked over at me, it was like he genuinely didn't remember me. He looked at me with open eyes, looking at every inch of me like he was studying his script. It made me feel icky and made my blood boil all over again.

But, of course, this was important to Jack and apparently me. I couldn't put either of our jobs at risk. So, I swallowed my pride. I shoved all my anger and disgust down. It was getting to the point that I was started to feel sick. Like keeping everything in was poisoning me.

Play nice.

I had to let Dorian walk over me again. He was doing his part and playing nice now but I knew it would eventually come out. He would eventually want me to run some absurd errand for him just to end with him yelling at me for doing something wrong. I just had a feeling it was coming soon.

So, I waited. I waited until Jack's fourteenth 'play nice', when we were at the final costume fitting. Jack was up, leaving me alone with Dorian.

I was sitting still, knowing if I moved too much, it would bring his attention off the paper he was reading and onto me.

"Okay, I have to say it," Dorian's voice broke the silence and it felt like years ago before he started a one way screaming argument with me. All I could do was turn my head. I had to sit and swallow it down, letting it poison me more while I had to play nice. "Did I do something to offend you?"

I blinked at his question, wondering if this was a trap. Was he kidding?

"Excuse me?" Was all I could respond with.

"I mean, every time we're in close proximity, you look at me like I murdered your family or something and Jack–Jack is always trying to keep us apart. Did I do something wrong?" He had genuine confusion on his face.

"You really don't remember, do you?" I could feel my brows starting to crease, my shoulders tense. I could feel burning at the back of my throat, like everything I swallowed was making its way back up.

"Remember? Remember what?" He was now folding his paper gently against his lap. It made my eyes linger on him, the anger bubbling up more at the fact that he looked too small for the chair he sat in.

"Four years ago, Jack's assistant that you terrorized?" Something inside of me was scratching to get out. I wasn't sure if it was the pain of holding things in the last couple of weeks or the fact that he didn't remember torturing me years ago.

"Oh..." His face twisted like he almost felt bad. It was sickening to see him puting his acting skills to work. "Was that your sister or something?" What the fuck. "I'm sorry. Please tell her I'm not like that anymore."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." I laughed.

I laughed until I nearly had tears in my eyes. I knew I looked manic–hell, I probably was. You would be too if the man who kicked you down every single day didn't remember doing so.