05. emptiness

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a/n; idek anymore but anyways this chapter contains mentions of suicide and ED so please read with caution

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YOUR BIGGEST CURSE WAS THAT YOU THOUGHT TOO MUCH. You were constantly tormented by the space that lived in your head; always full. You thought of things consist; the internal monologue within you never stopped. Those thoughts plagued you and remained undying, active, even as you tried to sleep. You could not cast them away. It was too much. But soon you learned to ignore them.

You had grown up in a cold home. That was all that you could have described it as. The interior was mostly empty, or perhaps a better word would be hollow—save for a few priceless antiques. You never got why your parents liked to collect such things—was it because they found pleasure in the materialistic things of life? Was it because they filled the gaps of their soul and their lives with items so they could convince themselves they were fitting in—that they were normal?

Anatoly's home reminded you of this.

"Do professors get paid this much?" You asked in faint amusement, as you walked into the foyer.

"I told the class my first class" Anatoly said calmly, "I was supposed to inherit the business. I suppose I am rather well-off. You are too, aren't you? The money we have—we do not need to work a single penny for it."

"And yet you work."

"What else are we supposed to do? Eat, sleep, work. I can't just laze around, relax, go on vacations—or whatever people call their need for a life. I think it's horrible; really; to create all those false promises and dreams just to pretend that we ever have a purpose in life."

"So that's why you work."

"It's impossible to fill in a void or an empty place," Anatoly's eyes gazed at yours. "You, of all people, should know that. No amount of materialistic things can ever make you whole. But do you know what will? Your medicine. Not your friend. Never her. She is a dead weight. When will you drop her?"

"I don't know."

"Come, sit," Anatoly gestured for you to take a seat. The lighting was mostly cool, and the cushion was soft. Anatoly's back was to you. You watched mindlessly as he made coffee. A inviting aroma had started to waft to your nostrils. "Your reply just now was half-accurate."

"About me not knowing?"

"No," he said after a pause. "About why I worked."

"Why, then?"

"I suppose I had the foolish notion of thinking that I would be able to teach people to actually think. But then I get proven over and over again that I am wrong. You are the exception, [Name]. Like a little experiment."

"Experiment," you repeated.

Anatoly turned around and placed two steaming cups of coffee on the table. Black. No sugar or creamer available. The bitterness scorched your tongue. "Yes. Were you selfish enough to think you would be labeled as anything else?" His smile cracked the smooth marble of his skin. "This relationship, [Name], you must remember, is meant to be warped. Do not expect anything lovely between the two of us."

"I wasn't."

"Two wrongs do not make a right."

"I know."

Anatoly stirred his coffee. There wasn't much to stir, anyways, but still the metal spoon clanked against the cup. "I know your kind, [Name], but I've only actually seen someone like you in real life. You lost all interest in this world. You are disappointed and discouraged, and have lost interest in everything. So you abandoned your physical body. You went to a world apart and you're living a different kind of life there. Your mind has strayed from your physical body. I'm not here to heal you, [Name], and I doubt you are ever capable of healing. I want you to understand that. You are so irreversibly wrong and warped that you cannot expect anyone ever to genuinely like you. You are a cold, brittle being and no one will ever find any quality of yours to love you."

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