Eyes

Naomi awakes to a small humming. Within this dreary world a beautiful melody like none-other echoes around her.

“Good morning,” Eve tells her.

“...”

“Cat got your tongue? The irony.”

“How could you possibly of known I was awake?” Naomi asks.

“The sound of your dreams changed to those of an awakened chorus,” Eve says.

"Whatever." Naomi proclaims while sliding herself up and against the wall for support.

"You sound rough." Eve states.

"Thanks. You don't."

"You get used to it-" Whatever else she might have said is quickly cut off by the sound of approaching boots.

Within the silence, Naomi hears the tink of metal breaking against metal. Naomi hears Eve being snarky and the guards having none of it. The sound of a strong thud and a hiss of pain from Eve causes Naomi to quickly push herself against the door of her prison. She tries her hardest to catch some small glimpse of what is going on but the slit is too narrow and the angle too shallow. Before long the sounds of scuffling ends and a thudding door is all Naomi is left with.

A crack forms in her heart as she imagines what awaits Eve in Tartarus. That man is sure to be there, siphoning the girl's soul. Those eyes pierce deep into Naomi even from afar, scaring her into a corner of her cell, protecting herself by wrapping into a ball. As she rocks back and forth for an apparent eternity, a violent coughing fit startles her. Glancing through the tiny bit of freedom she possesses, shows another parade of small, sickly people.

She hears a doctor, presumably, telling the children that it will be okay. That the experiments are proceeding apace and making breakthroughs. He assures them that before long the lupinic regenerative properties will save them just the same.

Undeserved guilt pangs at Naomi's heart. Why must she feel this way? Why must the quelled beast within whimper for the pain of these strangers? Were she asked, she might have even agreed to help these people. So why, why must she be in this position with all of this humiliation and pain and yet even still, feeling guilt of one so wholesome?

She wants to leave this world before the two dimensions of emotions tear her asunder. What she needs now, unknowingly why, is to hear the melody of Eve's voice. Naomi can't fathom why such a small piece of angelic reverence exists within this place and why it affects her so. But she prays, for the first time, perhaps the last time, to whatever there may be in this universe to bring Eve back to her. All so she can selfishly hear that melodic humming yet again.

Her prayers are answered as much as anyones' can be and months pass with idle chatter between the two women, between bouts of insurmountable suffering. Dorian Grey never did again appear before her. This time between them is theirs and theirs alone. That attitude of Eve's that once riled Naomi so, quickly became a bastion of peace for her. The small quips between the two paradoxically hardens and softens Naomi's heart. A pillar of jello she imagines it to be.

"Do you have a home to return to?" Eve asks one day seemingly out of nowhere.

“Nothing that can be called so.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” Naomi asks in turn.

“Being here, talking to you, listening to you, this is the closest I’ve ever come to having a real home.” She coyly says, causing a quickening of Naomi’s heart.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Naomi questions with some hope lingering on each syllable.

“Hah. Come on, you know.” She teases, perhaps with a small amount of bashfulness sneaking through.

Naomi can no longer run from the breathless way she reacts to Eve’s words. No longer can she snuff down the way Eve has taken precedence over the pain of it all. When Dorian Grey reaches inside of her, to rend her soul from flesh, what he sees instead is the flame of Eve inside her.