Enter Apathy

Resurface (15.)

Lilliana sits stretched across the couch, watching TV. Images of friends and lovers having fun flash across the screen. As their joy carries out throughout the living room she sits in, thoughts of Kalaraja's recent carelessness floats into her mind. He's been slipping lately.

Somewhere deep down, she knows that her apathy is increasing, and that his is in regression. She knows this because the more careless he gets, the more he freaks out, and the more he acts like a blubbering, confused baby, she gets aggravated and impatient.

She's not directly babysitting him, but she feels as though to some extent she's had to let him lean on her. Not for moral support or anything like that, but for his self-discovery. He's acting like a child. She tires of it. What happened to the unfeeling killing machine she had met?

Oh, right. He blames her for what happened to him. He blames her for him regressing and feeling the need to figure out who he is. In all honesty, she feels he knows that it's not anyone's particular fault. These things just happen, and though things happen, you have to figure them out. He's projecting his emotions. He's not aware of it, but he isn't ready to figure out who he really is. He's been burying a large part of himself for most of his life, and that takes a toll on a person. Of course it does!

She doesn't have the sort of patience needed to deal with somebody else's identity crisis. Dealing with people isn't her thing, that's why she has spent the majority of her life alone. People, to an extent, disgust her. They show you their worst and then they refuse to show their best. Human nature is honest- people are selfish. Everyone can be self-serving, and most people are. She's the same, and that's why she feels this way. As you know yourself you know others.

She should be dead by now.

She sighs and changes the channel. Boredom seeps into her, and she decides to walk around the apartment.

The soft echoes of her feet against the floor bounce around her. She walks to the kitchen and sees the same thing she saw the first time- the bright walls, the stools, and the tiled floor. She walks further into the apartment past the bathroom, and finally, she stops in front of the only place she hasn't explored yet.

Kalaraja's room. She stares at the closed door, curiosity burning inside of her.

       What could be behind that door? She wonders.

She imagines an unmade bed, clothes strewn across the floor, and clutter everywhere; a mirror of his state of mind.

She draws in a breath, uncertain of what she'll find. The doorknob turns in her hand and she opens the door to a sight she doesn't expect to see.

The room is tidy. So tidy, in fact, that Kalaraja might have OCD. The covers are tucked into the bottom mattress of his bed. Not a single wrinkle pervades the sheets. A window hangs above the head of his bed. The floor is absolutely spotless. A desk opposite the wall with the bed has books five on it, and they stand erected against the wall, close together but never touching.

Lilliana steps into the room, and even the air feels clean. It seems impossible, but there doesn't seem to be any dust. She steps in with a baffled expression on her face. She didn't really expect him to be a slob, but she definitely didn't expect this either. Everything in the room has its own precise place. After seeing the state of his private space, she thinks it makes total sense.

He's typically a neat person. His appearance is always well-put together. He wears jeans without wrinkles in them, the braids in his hair don't leave a single strand out of place, and now that she thinks about it, his nails are neatly trimmed. When he tortured her, everything had an exact spot to come from and return to. His kitchen and living room are always exquisitely clean. Everything about him screams 'neat freak', and she never paid attention to it until now.

She ventures farther still, and reaches his walk-in closet. All of his shoes are arranged on rows, not a single one out of place. His jackets and shirts hang approximately an inch from one another. Any boxes on the top shelves are placed meticulously.

"It has got to take a lot of energy to be this precise," she says as she lets out a breath of air and places her hands on her hips.

Her eyes roam the closet from top to bottom once more, and she sees something she didn't see before.

A loose floorboard peaks out from its place beside the shoes. Her head tilts. How had she not noticed that before? She crouches down to the spot and reaches for the board. She freezes before her hand makes contact with it. What will she find?

"Oh, god. Please tell me you don't keep souvenirs of your kills," she quietly whispers. Her fingers reach the floorboard and she removes it. At first she doesn't see anything, but she decides to stick her hand in.

Her fingers graze against something thin with edges. Her eyebrows furrow as she grabs it, then pulls it out.

It's a picture. A picture of three young boys, standing in front of a red-bricked building. They appear to be in their twenties. A tall one stands in the middle, with his arms resting in the shoulders of either boy beside him. The tall one has hair and braids like Kalaraja's, so Lilliana assumes it's him. The two boys beside him are smaller in build and have brown hair. They're all smiling, and this makes her realize she's never actually seen Kalaraja smile before. She's only really seen him sneer. She thought he'd smiled at her before, but now she knows he didn't, because she's never seen him smile like he is in the picture. Maybe that's what he's searching for, his old self. Or maybe he isn't even searching, it's just resurfacing.

Above the boys' heads are names written in sharpie:

                        Edgar, Theo, David

Edgar, above the first smaller boy. Theo, over Kalaraja's head. David, over the last boy's head.

Theo. Kalaraja's real name is Theo? Lilliana's brow furrows once more and she squints at the picture. He told her he had brothers at one point, and that they'd been killed. He avenged them, but she'd be willing to bet that he didn't get over it. Perhaps that's what stunted him. She can tell from the photo that they were happy, that they enjoyed each others' company. In fact, if she had to pinpoint an exact reason for his apathy, his psychopathy, whatever she could call it, she'd be willing to bet that it's this one. The loss of these boys is what changed him.

It's impossible for him not to know that their death, and his reaction to it, is what made him turn off his emotions. She places the picture back under the floorboard and starts to stand up. Didn't he say he hunted their killers down? Maybe he snapped during that period of time.

She hears the front door slam shut, louder than it should. She rushes out of his room to see what caused the noise, and comes face to face with Kalaraja, dragging two men into the padlocked room. They look similar in appearance. Once the second body is behind the door and locked in, he glances at Lilliana.

His gaze travels to his bedroom door. He knows he didn't leave it open. She must've been in there, but at this point, he doesn't care. He's got bigger problems to deal with right now.

Lilliana realizes that the men he dragged in are similar in appearance because they're brothers. With his unraveling, this might prove to be an issue. Kalaraja is going to feel something about having a job to do with brothers, whether he knows it yet or not.

Kalaraja and Lilliana stare at each other, both panting and standing still.