Save your pity for the girl naive enough to trust you, and to cultivate useless skills. Tell me, do you think she's prepared for where she is now? Do you think she has any grasp on political intrigue, on the idea that someone can save your life, can tell you they care for you, and then slip poison into your drink?
From what I see in this apartment, and given that she spends her time cultivating useless relationships and playing with pets, I fully expect to return home and begin spinning stories about the dead girl with my face, how she was merely a clever body double.