Here is where it changed; Jane said she loved me. Unease moved into terror, and I was relieved it
was time for my daily whoredom.

—”Do you care about me?”–I’d asked.

—”I love you Simon,”—Jane replies.

I grab that word, needed to know what she meant, what she expected…

“—I love you. Even if I don’t see you
again, I will still love you—”

I wander into bathroom, sit in the tub, looking into the water, hearing her words. How she’d said them.
They banged in my brain as empty tins flung by the wind; making me dizzy, making me afraid.

I don’t want her to love me, I don’t want to be here. It is bad enough what I’m being asked to do, but if I
can keep it as a scene in a play, where emotions are turned on and off like this faucet, I can make it.

Why did she say that? What does it mean? What does she expect from me? Why had I let her touch me?
Why did I ask her to bathe me? What does she expect from me, now?

My warder ‘loves me’, no doubt; ‘My Greatest Fan…” Oh Lord. I didn’t think it could get worse. It’s worse.
What is she going to do to me for the…what? How many days…one hundred and twenty…minus…four..
minus four…one hundred and sixteen more days. What is she going to do to me? What does she expect from me.

I came out of the tub, trying to shake the thoughts out of my head, trying to shove Jane’s ‘love’ discussion to the ‘holding’ area of my brain, and psyche myself for today’s ‘performance’. But the sense of fear, cause that is what is was, continued to expand.

I had tried to make the situation survivable. Tried not to labour the dichotomies, the unhappy side. I looked at
the delicious food, the gym, the cleanliness, the novelty even my daily ‘activity’ with the same eyes I’d used when we were in Australia shooting Crossworld. Yes, it was hot, yes everything was a problem and odd, and
wrong, but there were ways around it. Ways to push it to the corners, do the work, finish the scene, without thinking about how the writer was killing the character, or how much I hated that bastard who played the lead.

I could get up from the chair, take my place, step into Miko  and for the length of the scene, there was
no Simon. There was Australia, there was only Miko and Crossworld. I had to focus. Had to forget Jane’s insane remark. I don’t know what it means, but I know if I ‘fail’ in today’s ‘performance’ I could wind up dead.

So that’s the first hurdle. I have to get through today. I have to get through the next hour. That’s all. The next…okay..forty minutes then. The next forty minutes. I can think of Jane later. I have to focus. Whether I’d have to pull Miko  out of my repertoire or it would be another Number Three who knew how to get me there, or if I had to bring myself to arousal.

Jane came for me, I didn’t look at her. Didn’t react to her, even when she took the liberty of kissing me on
the cheek.

I went back to Crossworld to that episode when I had to rape Stevie…when Miko  remembered raping Coto.
I built the emotion, grabbing every thought I had held when the scene was being shot, while visioning it as it was shown on the screen.

I should of never had sex with Jane. Was I insane? What possessed me to do it? I was half asleep, she probably had molested me, got me there and took advantage….and now she ‘loves’ me.
Stop it! Not now. Forget it, Let it go!

I went back to Crossworld, to that episode…trying to get back some balance. It seemed this arrivant was taking longer than the others. I was getting nervous. I took deep breaths, started again, going through the steps taken to shoot that episode.