Stockholm Syndrome

Prologue

"When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it."

— Caitlyn Siehl

In that place, one could lose their mind as easily as they lose their keys. Since it wasn't exactly designed for long time stays anyway, only a select few could test the strength of their psyche within it. There wasn't much to the place either — it only consisted of an eternal river that separated two large cliffs. Everything was always coloured in shades of red, due to an endless sunset. A sun going down at the end of the river for eternity. No matter how much you walked, swam or sailed you could never reach its end or its beginning.

Some called it the Sanzu River, others called it the Vaitarna River. Then there were those who had named it after a goddess, Styx.

But in that reality, it had no name. Time as we know on Earth didn't exist there either, and one could even be in many places at once.

Overlooking the river from the edge of one particularly sharp rock sat what resembled a feminine figure — dressed in a flowery dark red kimono and black hair reaching all the way to her lower back. She gave an audible sigh at one point, her head hanging low.

"All that hair on your head's finally starting to feel heavy, girl?" a creature standing behind her asked in a mocking voice. There was really no better fitting word to describe it — although it possessed arms and legs, its head was shaped in that of a deer's skull, antlers and all. It slouched behind her, legs deformed as if they were imitating hooves. But the woman didn't seem to mind her companion or be afraid of him.

"I'm feeling quite light, actually," she answered.

"Oh?"

"I'm afraid all this death has started to rub off on me. I might start to decompose soon enough."

The joke made her companion snicker, for it was impossible to die in that place. The only thing reminding someone of death was the visible decay of the body. And the woman had enough signs of corruption to flaunt — what was supposed to represent skin was now a thick, scratched leather. On the parts of her body where she still had skin, that was. Most of it revealed the rotten bones that remarkably still managed to sustain her deteriorated physique.

"That's on you, girl. It's no one's fault you won't bother to fix yourself up, especially since you're the only one who insists on keeping your human form," the creature commented. It was true — while she was free to take any form she wanted, the woman had never gotten creative with it.

It didn't matter in that place, however. One could exist as a severed head if they wanted to, as long as they were still able to do their job.

"Speaking of which, did you hear about Gelus?" her companion asked, changing the subject.

The black-haired woman finally looked up and stopped dangling her feet above the cliff. She repositioned herself in a way that she still had one leg hanging off the rock, but was now hugging the other. "I heard."

"Pitiful, don't you think? Falling in love with a human he's never even met..."

"Oh, I would fall in love with a rock if it meant I could finally die."

The statement was followed by a short moment of silence. The woman didn't give it much thought, but the creature behind her became visibly uncomfortable. Long boney fingers started to fidget, and an awkward cough escaped its throat.

"I thought you gave up on that idea," her partner muttered as if sharing a secret. "You know it doesn't work like that for us."

While shinigami could die by using their Death Notes to extend life, it was not so easy for those like the two of them. Shinigami could die by refusing to write names in the notebook as well, until they eventually ran out of time to live. These two — as well as a few carefully picked others — were not so lucky. For they sure did not deserve one single drop of luck, anyway.

There was, however, a popular legend that some liked to share. It was said that thousands of human years ago, one man had managed to evade his punishment by returning to Earth as a human, and living as such until everyone forgot who he really was. And when his time came to die, his soul was welcomed into Heaven, not recognised by anyone because of its purity.

It was unclear how that legend had come to exist, as well as how they had figured out he had ended up in Heaven if they had no clue who he really was.

"I know. It's not that simple," the woman whispered. "But what's there to lose, really?"

Her associate gave it a bit of thought before answering, this time in a normal voice. "Well, for once, you'll probably get a taste of life, which will make coming back here so much more depressing once you fail. There was also that guy who ended up in Hell for dying in his human form too soon..."

"There are worse things than Hell," the black haired woman mumbled. Then, she straightened herself and finally stood up, bones cracking and small rocks breaking off the cliff as she did so.