Enter Apathy

That's Gotta Hurt (14.)

Lilliana doesn't have to be told that he didn't find the glove, she can tell by the way that he carries himself as he walks in. He seems even more frustrated coming in than when he left. She doesn't try to talk to him. She'll let him have his space.

He walks stomps into the padlocked room and leaves the door ajar. When Lilliana doesn't hear the door close behind him, she gets up from her spot on the couch and gingerly walks over to see what's going on. Kalaraja stands silent in front if his victim. His chest heaves and sweat glints off of his brow, he appears to be contemplating something. The victim stares back at him full of anger.

In an instant, Kalaraja draws his arm back and then makes contact with his victim's face. The action seems to come out of nowhere, and the impact causes the man's head to snap back. He spits at Kalaraja.

"Fucking pussy," he sneers, "Untie me and fight me like a man."

Kalaraja grins and utters, "No, I don't think so. I'd rather just punch the shit out of you."

Another punch makes contact with his victim's face, and as his head lolls, he lands several blows to his diaphragm. Grunts sound from the man as Lilliana watches from a few feet away. Unease builds in her stomach, hasn't she seen this before?

After another pained noise escapes the man, Kalaraja puts both his hands on either side of his face and headbutts him, over and over and over again. Blood spatters onto the concrete floor beneath them. Lilliana slides to the floor, eyes wide, reminded of the robber and the lady that she watched Kroj beat to death.

The man screams for help so loud his lungs might rupture. This sets Kalaraja off, and he beats him harder.

"Shut-" he headbutts him.

"The-" he headbutts him again.

"Fuck-" again.

"UP!" and again.

Kalaraja breathes heavy as he switches tactics. He punches the man's stomach and chest relentlessly. His victim's face is crushed in and contorted, blood spurts out from his wounds in  rivers. His nose is no doubt, broken. The blood decorates Kalaraja's face too, in lesser quantity. His muscles flex under the dim lighting with each movement, each hit that he plants on the man's body.

The man's cries lower in volume gradually with each hit, and end in low moans while blood and spit drips from his mouth. He sobs softly. His body convulses with each noise that comes out of him. Kalaraja still hasn't stopped.

He headbutts the man a few more times, these last few hits seeming to be more forceful than the rest. The man stops making noises entirely. It's at this point that the man hangs limp from his binds to the ceiling. His chest doesn't rise up and down, he doesn't blink, and he doesn't move. He hangs, dead.

Lilliana feels frozen to her spot and she can't move, won't move. She doesn't even blink.

Kalaraja's chest heaves again, and he cuts the man down from where he's suspended. He falls to the floor, the sound echoes through the room as Kalaraja begins to shake. He leans over the body.

"Now fight me!" He screams, full of rage.

He smacks the sides of his own head with his hands. His hair flings about his head, wildly, as he freaks out. He blames his victim for the lost glove.

"It's... your...fault!" He shouts between smacks.

His freak out lasts a few more minutes, until finally, he calms down. He turns around and sees Lilliana staring at him,  eyes wide and trembling. His posture is that of steel. Slowly, he steps forward and closes the door between them, never breaking eye contact.

She stands there, contemplating his unraveling. He did this all because he lost a glove. It's not as if she's denying what he is; a hitman, a torturer, a psycho, but she still didn't expect to see it happen in front of her. He met her and tortured her, to which she had little reaction. He then questioned his morals and got sloppy, he left evidence at the scene of his crime. Now he's taking his frustrations out on his victims. He's losing himself and his professionalism.

Sometime later, Lilliana still sits and stares in front of the door. The door opens and he comes out, body parts wrapped in black plastic bags.

Lilliana looks at the bags, then says, "You know you can still do what you do while questioning yourself, right?"

"That's easy for you to say. You're not the one with all the questions. You're not the one who doesn't know what he feels anymore, when he used to feel nothing," he glares at her.

"Since I've met you, I've had to rethink everything-" he crouches in front of her- "Because of you, I don't know what to feel. I felt panic last night, true panic, because of a lost article of clothing. And today, I'm so frustrated I could peel my own skin off. If I had never met you, I'd be fine."

"So now you're blaming me instead of him?" She asks as she juts her head toward the body parts. "Get it together and grow up. You're acting like a fucking hormonal teenager. So what? Being who we are isn't normal. You can choose not to have an issue with it, you can choose to accept it. I can't tell you what made you this way, but I can tell you this; whining about it isn't going to fix your fucking problems either."

Kalaraja throws daggers at her with his eyes. She has no idea what he's going through, no one does. She made him feel less alone, and that's the whole issue. She made him feel something other than numbness.

"Maybe it is your fault, maybe it isn't." He stands and shrugs.

He picks up the bags filled with body parts, grabs the trash bag from the trash can for cover, and then drops them at the front door.

Lilliana walks slowly behind him and asks, "What are you going to do with the pieces?"

He puts on his jean jacket and opens the door.

"Take them to a dump site," he tells her, and glances over his shoulder before he takes his leave.