In Her Own Words

A woman in love with a female assassin is detained after an incident...


The best psychoanalyst in St.Solange Clinic, Brian Lambert, entered room #217 to pay a visit to the newest arrival. "Good morning" he gave a formal greeting to the fair skinned girl lain straight on the bed and staring at the ceiling as he set his briefcase down on the table. Though he could have been very sure she was dead by her complete lack of movement or acknowledgement of his presence, "Meital Hargrave" broke the silence with the sound of shuffling paper.

"That is your name, is it not?" Even then there was a long wait until finally, "Yes" her voice cracked a little but was still perfectly soft, she had been quiet for too long and suffering from a specific loneliness. From that alone he figured out that she would be an easy case and could answer what was asked but any extra information would be hard to come by. All he needed was a little verification on a few things and in the long run it was a necessary action to preoccupy this woman's mind while the other was in critical condition.

"Age 28, Bloodtype AB, no known surviving family?" He never took his eyes from the records but at the moment she was predictable enough to not have moved yet. "Yes" she did not even blink his way. There was not much else he needed from his notes and so he restricted himself to a pen and clipboard with few papers on his subject's past, "Do you know why I am here, Meital?". "Yes" still not one single movement from her, hardly even the rise and fall of her chest for signs of breathing. He was afraid for a moment that this was the only kind of response he would get from her but then "This is about Karina, isn't it?" and she turned her head to look at him.

Brian was speechless for a moment as he peered over his wire-rimmed glasses, either because he was not expecting that or he was momentarily entranced by her green eyes that had turned dull from the sadness in her gaze. "Yes, of course" he found himself before appearing unprofessional, "Karina Zahn. Age 27, Bloodtype A. Younger brother, Alexei, deceased". Meital nodded into the pillow, rolling onto her side, her eyes never left his "Yes". She looked a little worn, tired and resigned to defeat yet she was still beautiful. At least that's what Brian thought, typical for a male, but this one in particular could care less on the matter of 'beauty' his job was to analyze minds not bodies.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Since the very first time I met her all I ever wanted to do was take her away from suffering."

"You met her in the clinic, correct?" he asked bluntly because he didn't need to watch what he said or play elaborate mind games, this girl was not a psychopathic genius. A simple nod and she answered, "Yes..." and it was almost like she wanted to say more but the rest of the words never came, instead she shifted her position.

"Can you tell me how you met?" he watched her as she moved- the slow, dragging movements and the look he got from quickly catching a brief glance of her eyes: a look of sadness that could break anyone's heart. Not his of course, he wasn't paid to care and he learned much earlier on that in his profession to even attempt to do so could only end in tragedy.

She didn't answer him immediately and for some strange reason he thought she wouldn't need the time to remember, that the memory was right there, especially now. "It was during a test. They were testing our reaction to one another." her voice was low, quiet, nearly a mumble with her mouth against her wrist that was on the knees raised to her chest. "She looked so dead inside. Not one spark of emotion, nothing. Not even when she got hurt...she didn't even make a sound."

"But I knew it was a mask. I don't know how I knew. It was just a feeling." She was taking her time, so the man was not about to interrupt; what she was saying was important to her. "Later, on that same night I heard crying. It was all the way down the hall but I heard it like it was right in the room with me." The woman drew her arms around her legs, raising her chin to rest on her knees and, staring at the psychoanalyst through those green eyes of hers, swore silently for him not to record what she was about to say.

"I went to go see who it was. I needed to make sure it wasn't just my imagination. I snuck right out of my room and down the hall and it was her. There she was, that heartless girl- huddled in a corner and sobbing." There was a pause then and she actually smiled. A half smile, it was full of a pained happiness, the man could see that the real smile was reserved for someone else.

"Do you know what she was crying about?" she asked the question this time but did not expect any type of answer, since he obviously did not know, "She told me those tears were for her brother, and he was the one and only person she ever talked to in the entire clinic. He was becoming sick and the doctors were keeping her further and further away...that boy was her life."

There, that was it. She explained how she met the other girl, no use in going into other details. All she had to do was answer the questions and then he would leave, and at the moment solitude was not such a bad idea. The psychoanalyst was on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall and looking over his notes, "It says here you were nine at the time?" she nodded, "Her and her brother were eight?" Another nod from her before the woman looked away, towards the door and he continued, "You escaped from the clinic soon after the brother died a few years later. Care to tell me about that?" It was not surprising in the least that he had so much information- all the general things were documented but not human emotion, the staff in the clinic didn't know how to record raw feelings and to get to the root of any problem the past needed to be tied up.

"He never 'died', they took him away." She let the words settle in the air like a thick blanket of acid, burning and eating away at the man's mind in bitter accusation. But she never looked back at him, "I wanted to take her with me. But the one chance I got they made sure she was safely locked away. So, I got out by myself. There wasn't much chase for very long."

The deadpan expression on the man's face betrayed the sudden fear welling up inside of him. That sad despair hanging around the woman was turning into a dangerous hate, he could almost see it. And it dawned on him that if she really wanted to; she could get out one brutal way or another. He reassured himself that she would not do anything drastic: she had nowhere to go and was nothing without her love...

"Before you left, how close did your relationship get?" he deftly evaded comment on the brother. "We were not inseparable, but we became close." the answer was vague, but it was an answer nonetheless. "You became a support for her, since her brother was gone?" There was something a little weird, her depression gave way a little to reasoning, "Yes." She nodded slightly, wondering what was going on.

- - - - - - - - - -

Brian: Are you sure your feelings towards her are real and not just returning what she already felt in order to keep her from being hurt?

Meital: ...Yes. Yes, I am very sure my feelings are real. If they weren't, I would not be here right now, ready to break down if I don't find out if she is truly all right after all this. Though I've asked myself a few times if she -really- loved me and I was not just another pretty body. ... She proved my thinking wrong many times.

I feel I have always loved her. This may sound crazy, but even as a child- when I left her without a goodbye I couldn't help worrying over her. Eventually that part of me must have gotten buried because when I met her again...that kiss sparked a part of me that wanted to pull her close but the rest of me refused.

The one moment that proved she loved me was before we became intimate, before our relationship: I woke up in her apartment, I did not know it at the time, and it was the most surreal experience. I was naked except for a robe I had on, hers of course, and smelled so nice. I could not remember what happened for the life of me, maybe a little distant pain- but I was not sure. I wanted to know where I was, who I was with- so I got out of the bed to look around. She was right in the next room, sitting on the couch with her head in her hands. She was stressed, but I knew it could not have been over me.

For some reason I was stunned and she noticed I was there before I did and also that my robe was open. She got up and at first my mind still didn't know what to register; then she reached over and tied the robe closed while saying, "Good morning, I'm glad you're awake." No kiss or anything, just a tired smile, I saw the stress still there, hidden behind her eyes- that confirmed it was not for me.

Brian: With someone so dangerous, have you ever worried for your life?

Meital: I know that even if she was pushed to the furthest edge of insanity, she would never harm me. That's what scares me- she would kill herself first. But when I thought I lost her, when I was absolutely sure she was a monster, even then she did not hurt me.

Brian: You were there and witnessed the entire scene, yes? You had complete understanding of it?

Meital: Of course. Don't get me wrong, I'm not some stupid love-sick girl. I know what is going on. That 'monster', no, what she is-- Erebus, right --it knew about my...'pure' blood. That could be the real reason why she didn't harm me. Those cells are selective, aren't they? (Refering to Alexei's response to Zacharias' power.)

Brian: Let me hear how much you understand about her?

Meital: I've come to my own conclusions over time. Those cells must have something to do with her behavior. Once, she lost control- didn't change, but the way she acted-- the way she murdered those people was distinctly Erebus, her 'true colors'. After that episode, she never wanted to talk to me, but I made her come to terms. "You have to remember, I am the only one that understands you. You hardly understand yourself." Yes, I am her restraint, but it is like she enjoys it, needs it, whispers to me "Hold me back tighter. Never stop."

The End

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