Patient B-2

Chapter Two: Avalyn

 The journey back to my shared apartment stretches out, but each step is a companion to my thoughts, giving me time to think over everything Dr. King and I have discussed. With a silent turn of the key, I enter the apartment, moving with a practiced ease. Every footfall is a whisper, a testament to the art of stealth I've honed over time, a skill born of necessity and refined through practice.

 I stride purposefully toward the blonde, anticipation coursing through my veins as I prepare to surprise her. But before I can pounce, she spins around with startling agility, catching me off guard. Our eyes meet, and I freeze, momentarily taken aback by her piercing gaze. Her expression shifts into a scowl. "When will you quit doing that? It's weird."

 I adjust my stance, feeling a pang of chagrin as her words sink in. My lips curve downward into a small frown, and I clear my throat before responding. "How do you always know? I was being sneaky."

 Despite my best efforts to be stealthy, she always seems to sense my presence, like a sixth sense finely attuned to my every move. "I can smell you a mile away, pretty girl. Now, how about you come here and give me a taste?" she teases, her smile taking on a seductive edge as she flashes me her bleached-white fangs.

 "And when will you stop doing that?" I retort, brushing off her flirtatious demeanor as I sidestep her and head toward the fridge.

 "Oh, come on," she protests with a playful pout, her fingers lightly grazing my arm. "Just a little. You'd like it. I know you would."

 "Didn't like it very much the first time," I counter, a hint of amusement in my tone as I recall our initial meeting.

 "Whatever. I have leftovers in my room if you want a bite."

 By leftovers, she means some poor man she seduced. "You know I don't."

 "Lame," she whispers before trudging back to her room.

 As I reach for the bottled water and fresh fruit, I can't help but overhear Idalia's seductive whispers to the waiting man, followed by a cascade of moans that pierce through the air. A cringe creeps across my features as I quickly tune out the sounds.

 Over the past year and a half, I've found myself partnered with Idalia, much to my initial dismay. Yet, as time has passed, I've come to realize that she's not the worst person to ever exist, much as I might have expected or even hoped. Despite our differences, we've managed to forge a surprisingly amicable working relationship. In fact, I dare say we get along quite well. It's been eye-opening to witness her gradual transformation. 

 In recent months, Idalia has begun to open up, revealing layers of complexity that I hadn't previously recognized. While it certainly doesn't excuse her past actions, understanding her motivations has provided me with a deeper sense of empathy. At times, I find myself even pitying her, recognizing the struggles she must have faced to become the person she is today. It's a paradoxical feeling, grappling with both disdain and compassion for someone who has caused harm.

 Damn my empathy.

 The stinging guilt of being in the presence of someone who played a part in ruining my best friend's life weighs heavily on me, and I doubt it will ever truly dissipate. But in moments of reflection, I can't help but confront the uncomfortable truth— I'm no better than Idalia, after all. I played a role in Sophie's downfall, whether through direct actions or my own inaction and complacency. The weight of this realization is crushing, a heavy burden that I carry with me each day. I can't shake the feeling that I failed Sophie when she needed me most, that I could have done more to protect her from harm.

 Do I forgive her for killing both me and my best friend? No. Can I tolerate her existence for the better good? Yes.

 We're both only using each other. Our partnership was forged from a pragmatic agreement struck over a year ago, a pact born out of necessity rather than genuine camaraderie. From the outset, our alliance was based on mutual benefit. I agreed to assist Idalia in her quest to find her brother, while she pledged to aid me in seeking retribution against the members of WWA. It's a transactional arrangement, devoid of sentimentality or loyalty. And while I may grapple with the moral implications of our partnership, I know that, for now, it's a necessary evil.