Control

That was a month ago - plenty of time for Calhoun to forget.

But he didn't forget. He couldn't forget.

He tried to forget, but he'd remember it every so often. What bothered him the most?

"I know a lot more about you than you think."

The phrase kept repeating in his head, and it wouldn't stop.

Fuck. Fuck!

"FUCK!"

Calhoun shouts, slamming his fist into a tree trunk with a dull thud. He had just stormed off, hoping a walk would clear his head.

It didn't. It just wasn't enough.

"Don't fuckin' play dumb with me, asshole!" He digs his knuckles deep into the wood, grinding his fist into the wooden crust, his teeth clenched together in fury. He then yanks his hand away, leaving a bare, bald spot in the dried bark. "Who the fuck does he think he is?" He growls, dusting off his knuckles. "Threatenin' someone and acting like you don't remember shit? Tch!" He sneers. "What, did he think I'd forget?!"

"I know a lot more about you than you think."

"Fuck you!" His scowl deepens. "What the hell did he mean, anyway?!" he hisses to himself, smashing another fist into the trunk. "What?! What is it?! Just what the fuck does he know, huh?!" He strikes again. "You don't know me!" Another strike. "You don't know shit!" He strikes again. And again. And again. And again. With each blow, he curses Pryce's name.

"I know a lot more about you than you think."

He pulls back from the tree. "Do you? Do you?!" He snarls to the silence. "You think you can use the past against me?!" He snaps a kick into the trunk. "You think you can tell me what to do?!" He swings a fist, knuckles scraping at the bark once more. "Fuck off! Don't make choices for me, asshole!" He growls. "Fuckin'... Fucker just had to ask me yes or no! That's it! That's all it takes!"

"I know a lot more about you than you think."

"Fuckin'... FUCK!" It was far from original, but it was the only way he could vocalize his anger. The rest of his concentration was too busy focused on his physical assault. "You think can use that shit to control me?! Fuck that! No one controls me!" His eyes screw shut as he yells. "NO ONE!"

"I know you better than you know yourself."

Calhoun's eyes snap open, his fist stalling in midair. For the first time in his fit of rage, he's silent. The voice... The phrase... Both were different. Time stops in his head for a few moments before the realization hits him like a bucket of cold water to the face. Old memories stir as a sludgy mixture of fear, dread and hatred began to pool in his stomach.

"I'm only looking to help you, Casey." Calhoun's memory of that man smiled. "After all... I know you better than you know yourself."

Calhoun's face darkens, the recollection of the words weighing down on him. He stands in silence, his mind racing. At last, with a snerk, he answers the memory back.

"Bullshit."

He felt his anger change shape. Though his stance loosened, his fists remained clenched. He looks over to the battered tree trunk. His gaze lingers for a moment, the air filled with a thick silence. Finally, he lowers his fists, shoving them into his pockets. His self therapy was done, except for one last bit. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, holding it, and exhaling. Slowly, his eyes crack open, feeling his anger channel itself into a renewed determination.

"No one controls me."

He turns to leave.

"...Not anymore."