Enter Apathy

Unravelling (12.)

The front door slams behind Kalaraja as he enters his apartment. He takes notice of Lilliana on the couch, in his clothes.

The abrupt slam startles her awake. She quickly sits up, flinging a leftover piece of crust from her sandwich across the coffee table. Her aching wounds cause her to wince. She glares at him and sees traces of blood on his chest.

"What's with the blood?" Lilliana jerks her head in his direction. His demeanor is as cold and indifferent as usual.

"Leftovers from a hit," he says as he walks past her, into the kitchen. The lights flicker when he turns them on, and he lets his duffel bag fall with a thump on the floor beside the counter.

Lilliana purses her lips and then walks into the kitchen after him.

She plants her hands on the counter, "What was the job?"

He skeptically eyes her up and down, unsure if he should tell her. His clients certainly wouldn't approve of the breach of privacy, but if he's going to kill her anyways, what's the harm?

"Crook CEO. His assistant was tired of being belittled by him-" his eyes fall onto the crumbs on the surface of the counter- "Did you make food?"

"And I took a shower," she nods.

"I didn't give you permission to do any of those things."

She glares at him, "Then put me back in the room."

Suddenly his hands slam on the surface in front of them.

"I told you when we met that I don't tolerate disrespect."

She stands straight and squares her shoulders, "I didn't care then, and I don't care now. Put me back in the room, kill me, or deal with it."

A vein pops out against his temple. He sets his jaw, he isn't in the mood for this nonsense. He pulls his hair out of the bun that held it up, letting the occasional braid and rest of his hair fall free while walking to the sink. He washes his face under the faucet, then runs his hands through his hair.

"If you're going to be out of the room, we're going to set some boundaries,"  he stands up straight and meets her eyes. "Clean up after yourself, sleep on the couch, and don't make loud noises when I'm here."

"Fine," she agrees.

He glances at her, then at the tiled floor. Neither says a word for a minute.

Lilliana breaks the silence with an indignant look, "Exactly why the hell haven't you killed me yet? And don't tell me you're looking for answers, because that's bullshit."

"I'm trying to figure something out," he says.

"And what makes you think I can help with that?" She retorts, voice full of annoyance.

"Because you're like me. If I can figure out why you're like this, then I'll figure out why I am, too." He snaps back at her.

She huffs, "I already told you why I'm like this! I told you that I watched my family die, that I cried until I was numb, that I-"

"Yes, and I'm taking some time to decipher why I'm like this!"

Lilliana stares at him. No response makes its way out of her, she lets him continue.

"I get that I'm damaged. I think I know why, but I want to know why the hell it had to happen to me. I've gone all this time thinking that I was fine, that this is okay, but it isn't. It's not normal. I don't feel... normal." He finishes, voice reduced to a whisper. He leans his weight against his arms, palms rested on the counter top.

She realizes that he's unraveling, falling down a deep hole that he'll never get out of. It's easier for certain people, but once you've gone this long without questioning who you are, or why you are that way, it can destroy everything you've known about yourself. If she had the capability to feel sorry for him, now is the time she would feel it. But she can't, so instead she just stares at him. He might have an issue with being unable to feel anything, but she doesn't. It's how she's survived this world.

"But you're still going to kill me, right?" Lilliana prompts him.

His face contorts into a snarl, "Why are you so obsessed with dying? You seem so fucking eager."

"It's my end of the deal," she shrugs.

But if she were really being honest with herself, it's because she doesn't have any reason to live. She found Kroj. She found a way to get rid of him. The vengeance she searched for throughout the years has been fulfilled.  And now, she has no purpose other than to carry out the deal they agreed to. If she didn't have the deal, she would have absolutely nothing else. She owns nothing of sentimental value to go back to, she quit her job, and now... this is all she has.

"Look, you did your part. Now I just want to do mine," she tells him. She avoids his eyes and fiddles with the hem of the grey shirt she wears.

Kalaraja wearily rubs his face and grabs the duffel bag. 

"I'm going to bed. I've got another job tomorrow and things never go well if I'm not rested. Common sense," he bids her goodnight and disappears into his bedroom.

Lilliana opens the fridge, grabs a yogurt, a spoon, and some water. She makes her way back to the living room to sit down.

She spoons a mouthful of yogurt into her mouth as Kalaraja's words bounce around inside her skull like a rubber ball.

       "...You seem so fucking eager."

Of course she was eager, her only reason for living had finally been eliminated. Kroj haunted her for years. And now, the only thing haunting her is her emptiness. Her lack of purpose. For every hour that Kalaraja puts off her death, she grows more impatient. What the hell is she supposed to do, just sit around watching TV while he has a midlife crisis?

       What the hell is up with Kalaraja? She thinks to herself.

She leans her head against the back of the couch and lets out a loud exhale. This isn't what she expected when she agreed to "sell her soul" to him. However, when you make a deal with the devil, there's always something between the fine lines. How could she have thought that it would be so simple? It's her own fault; since she can't emote, she didn't show enough of a reaction when he tortured her, and now she's his goddamn research project, his fucking reference page for answers about himself.

She finishes her yogurt and turns on the TV. She didn't expect to be in a situation like this, held captive and awaiting her death impatiently. Her eyes widen as the next thought slips into her mind.

Is this Stockholm Syndrome?

No, it can't be. She doesn't trust him; she's just waiting to let him pull through her end of their agreement. Right?

"Right," she says aloud, assuring herself.

~~~

What do you guys think? Does she have Stockholm Syndrome, or is something more sinister in the works?