She is dead. Cold. Mentally unstable and has not one shred of consideration for me and what I need.
Introducing...my main character.
Our conversation goes like this:
Me: Hey you! What are you doing, just standing there?
MC: I'm enjoying the cold pits of despair you've so generously written me into.
Me: Well, do you think you could do something? Stab someone? Clean the coffee table?
MC: I can think of one person I would like to stab.
Me: Hm, interesting..*scribbles down notes* Could you tell me who that might be? Are they going to die?
MC: Yes. *evil grin* I think they will be dying.
Me: I'll be going now.
And because of her insubordination she is currently being dragged into a field by very large, very rabid and very blind trio of dogs.