Carmine's eyes fluttered open. The world was a blur of grey stone and flickering torchlight. Her head throbbed with a dull, heavy ache where the club had struck her. She pushed herself up from the cold, damp floor of the basement, the smell of mildew and earth filling her nose.
She blinked, her vision clearing. Across the room, near the high, barred window where a sliver of moonlight fell, sat Elaine. She was curled into a ball in the corner, looking small and fragile, a stark contrast to the Lioness who had threatened her brothers just hours ago.
"Elaine?" Carmine croaked, her voice dry.
She tried to stand, her legs unsteady. She took a step toward her, reaching out. "Elaine, are you hurt?"
As Carmine stepped closer, Elaine shifted. She didn't look up. Instead, she scuttled backward, pressing herself deeper into the shadows of the stone wall.
Carmine stopped, confused. She took another step. Elaine moved back again, putting distance between them, her eyes fixed on the floor.
"What the heck, Elle?" Carmine asked, her voice rising slightly. "Why are you avoiding me? You didn't want me to come with you. You didn't want me to visit. And clearly, you didn't even want to tell me you had a crazy cousin like Gladis."
Elaine finally looked up. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but her gaze was sharp, filled with a sudden, biting bitterness.
"Really?" Elaine spat, her voice trembling. "Would you even care? You weren't even giving a fuck about me. You were too busy helping that twat wrench Marco cope with the fact that he killed people and is still—assuming he's crying and meddling with the fact that 'oh, maybe it's not my fault.'"
The words hung in the air, toxic and hurtful.
Carmine stared at her, disbelief washing over her face. Without thinking, her hand flew up. She slapped Elaine across the face.
The sound cracked through the silent basement.
"When did you become so selfish?" Carmine shouted, her hand stinging.
Elaine held her cheek, her eyes wide. The shock lasted only a second before it turned to rage. She surged forward, slapping Carmine back with all her strength.
"You were supposed to be with me!" Elaine screamed, tears finally spilling over. "You were supposed to comfort me! My mother is dead, for God's sake! I needed you!"
Carmine stumbled back, holding her cheek. She didn't strike back again. She looked at Elaine with a mixture of anger and profound sadness.
"Well, that's no excuse to badmouth Marco," Carmine said, her voice shaking but firm. "He lost his mother too, you know. And unlike you... he didn't get to say a proper goodbye. He didn't get to hold her hand at the end. He had to watch her die from a distance while covered in someone else's blood."
Elaine froze. The fight seemed to drain out of her instantly. The mention of Marco's loss—the specific, tragic detail of it—pierced through her anger. She realized how small her grievance was in the face of that truth.
She looked at Carmine, her lip trembling. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.
Carmine stepped forward. This time, Elaine didn't move away. Carmine wrapped her arms around Elaine, pulling her into a tight embrace, right there on the cold basement floor.
"We are only what we have for some time," Carmine whispered into Elaine's hair. "So don't you dare look away. Don't you dare push me away. I Love You, Elle. I do."
Elaine broke. The walls she had built—the short hair, the cold stares, the threats to her brothers—crumbled. She grabbed Carmine's shirt, burying her face in her shoulder. She cried. She cried the loudest, most guttural scream she had ever let out. She hadn't even realized she had been holding it in, that she hadn't truly been crying until this moment.
She cried for Viremont. She cried for the loss of her childhood. She cried for the fear of the Dome.
Carmine held her, rocking her gently, glad that Elaine had finally spoken what was on her mind. She didn't want to let go. She wanted to anchor Elaine to the earth, to be the one solid thing in a world that kept shifting.
For a long time, they just sat there, disappearing into the melancholy of the moment, letting the world outside the basement walls fade away.
Finally, Elaine pulled back, wiping her face. She took a deep, shuddering breath. The heaviness in her chest felt lighter. Not gone, but lighter.
She looked up at the small, barred window. The wind was blowing outside, rustling the leaves of the garden above.
"It's time," Elaine whispered, her voice hoarse. "It's time for the farewell, Mother."
As if in answer, a gust of wind swept through the bars of the window. It carried with it a single, delicate violet petal. It drifted down slowly, dancing in the moonlight, before landing softly on top of Elaine's head.
Viremont's favorite flower.
Elaine reached up, her fingers brushing the petal. She looked at Carmine, and for the first time in days, a small, genuine, sad smile touched her lips.
"Goodbye, Mother."
To be continued.