The second, third, even fourth week were mirrors of the first. Elizabeth still had only the one chair, the little table that wobbled to the left, and the mattress. She had added a couple sketches to the notebook in that time: the view of the kitchen area from the table, a generic flower. A perusal of the sketchbook while she was at work yielded little variation. A window and hints of a view beyond. A city street, a few rough people shapes. One early page had a piece that was scribbled over so thoroughly the paper was almost gone, no way to tell the beginning image, or if there even was one. And that was it.

The girl got a call from work one evening in the third week, her voice entering the apartment for the second time. She had a pleasant alto, if a bit flat in tone.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Mm?”

“Okay.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“M-hm. Tomorrow.”

Even creeping as close as the demon dared without risking discovery, Catharsis could not say if the reason for the call was good or bad. Or just news. There was nary a flicker in Elizabeth’s expression, or any other signals of emotion. She was, as always, simply… blank.

Elizabeth was at work when Catharsis shook free of these ruminations. A demon’s work was to corrupt, to break. If that was going to happen here, it would take more than watching and waiting. Without frustration over work to feed, nor social interactions to play against or strip away there was only one real tack to take. As it would have little effect on anyone but the girl herself to boot, It would not do for a demon to dawdle. The next room mate could have some really explosive emotions, or connections outside to exploit. Why hesitate for so long anyway? Catharsis was surprised not to have an answer for the question.

The demon started with little things. Hasting the spoilage of a few items in the fridge should help nudge any still hidden frustration into the open. When Elizabeth tasted the sour milk, she grunted in distaste and poured the rest down the drain without preamble. Rinsed the bottle and added it to the recycling pile mechanically. All without feeling. Nor did she run out and replace it. Breakfast the next three mornings was toast, until the next weekend grocery run.

The following Monday, Catharsis tried disrupting the girl’s morning alarm. She slept in an hour without encouragement. When Elizabeth did awake, she started her routine as usual. The girl noticed the time after she dressed, on the way to the kitchen. She muttered a soft curse, no more, and simply left the apartment without breakfast, or a lunch made. This didn’t bother Catharsis, until Elizabeth returned at the usual time that evening. The resident demon could see the signs of increased wear on the girl’s body going the whole day without food. She dragged at getting dinner and opted on the cold sandwich she would have made for lunch. If she could tell that Catharsis had helped the bread start to mold, it didn’t show.

Getting ready for bed, early, the girl went to her bag left at the door to take out a small analog clock. That went on the floor next to the bed, with an alarm set for one minute past the phone’s once it was set up. At that point, Catharsis felt real frustration. Forget any strong emotion, the girl wasn’t giving the demon any emotions at all. In a fit of pique the demon turned off both alarms.

The next morning Elizabeth woke only a half-hour late, and immediately checked the time. She didn’t bother muttering, only got up and got dressed. She put together a lunch with the stale bread, and left on time without breakfast.