Two Eyes Cenote Ikaheka

Words are painted like a window into the past. The slightest crease appears between the coy’s eyes.

“Why are you telling me this?” She stands, brows lifted and regards the hemet, utterly still, save the lash of tail that seemed to convey all the secrets of torment.

“Look, Medusa, I am not exactly a conservator of morality. I don’t give a damn what is in your past. I care what’s happening now. A boy was ripped apart. Slaughtered. He was tossed into the cenote like he was– like he was nothing.” Her limbs ached from so long seated on cool stone. Her chest trills with anxiety and hope, together, as she turns once more for the pale woman.

A boy was ripped apart, and Medusa cared that she worked too hard to spoil such an image. Eset felt sick.

“If kids are off limits, prove it. You were there on the scene. Tell me what you saw.”