Day 577. It seems my companion is coming to terms with her current situation. At least she is no longer aggressive, so I have allowed her to roam freely around the compartment. Ultimately, I have absolutely no desire to clean up her shit and piss-soaked rags. However, there have been some incidents. A few days ago, she finally discovered that we were eating her ex's body.
I can't forget how she stands over the open lid of the cryocapsule-pressure cooker and looks inside in horror. Although I thoroughly gutted the body, separating the head and removing the excess entrails, she still somehow recognizes him. A mixture of the most horrible expressions freezes on her face. Horror. Fear. Disgust. She can neither cry nor scream, and a second later she is retching. She vomits right at her feet. All of today's lunch is wasted... I'm already spending almost half of my supplies on her. Stupid bitch! In a rage, I hit her so hard that she falls into her own vomit, and then, picking her up off the floor, I grab her by the hair and slam her head against the wall of the compartment several times.
This helps me calm down a little. This time, I don't feel the urge to rape her to let off steam; she makes me feel more disgusted, so I just leave her lying on the floor, writhing in a helpless hysterical fit, in tears and surrounded by the contents of her stomach.
However, nothing like that has happened since. After starving for a day or a day and a half, she still joins me for my meal. She sits down next to me while I eat dinner and watch a movie. I cut her a piece, and she seems to look at me with some gratitude. Perhaps I am being unfair to her. Not everyone can cope with life-threatening situations adequately: without unmotivated emotional outbursts and useless humanistic doubts. Now I am almost free of them. I have a mouth and I want to eat.