The Girl with the Butterfly Tattoo

Chapter 9

This chapter is edited. :) [✔]

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Previously: 

"Hi Dylan, Mike." I acknowledged them but didn't attempt to make eye contact. Dylan stalked over and scooped up Naomi into his arms, cautiously making sure her rib-care area stayed parallel with the ground. Dylan was whispering words into her ear and I could see the small smile playing on her face. She had obviously missed her father but she ripped her eyes from Dylan and looked at me. 

She smirked, her eyes glinted with mischievous. I mouthed to her, "They're always watching. Be careful." She nodded before the door closed behind them and I was left alone. I smiled genuinely for the first time in a long time, hoping that she would come around. 

Even then, this new Naomi might be just as special.

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Sean's POV: 

I was lonely, so lonely.

It has been fourteen days since Naomi's departure and thirty four days in total that I've been here in total. It's March third of 2013 and I only have two months until the big day, May seventh. 

I made my own schedule, disregarding Naomi's crude one. I ended up spending more and more time on Naomi's old blow-up bed trying to find something; a smell or a marking she might've left but it always left me with the same conclusion: nothing. I wanted to feel her presence, I wanted her to be near. I couldn't except the fact that I had to this this alone now. It was my responsibility. 

Mike has never looked more ecstatic when he visited my 'jail cell'. He had stopped by earlier in the day waking me from my slumber to collect Naomi's clothes, including my shirt that I always found her wearing. I wondered if she could tell it was mine. Will she think of me when she wears it? Will my scent clear her fuzzy world or will it be as clueless as this blow-up bed I'm lying on? Is it nothingness? 

Mike could probably read the fury on the profound wrinkles around my eyes, no doubt, but a certain hunch was telling me that he knew of our plotting all along. He didn't even need to smoke a blunt, he was high off of taking away my partner in crime. I couldn't help but think of her well-being. What are they doing to her? Will they be hurting her? I'd probably never know until we attack the White House, I dread the day. Would she be fighting alongside the CAC? 

I checked the time. It read, "9:57 AM". My new schedule granted me more free time which is equivalent to nap time. With my constant worries of Naomi though, I barely get a wink of sleep. If I'm in my state of unconsciousness, I'm dreaming of her piercing eyes. My eyes were pried open throughout the night by her invisible ghost, begging me to save her from the malice of her father and uncle. This ghost of my imagination continues to lurk around me. It tugs at my nerves to make sure my thoughts are shrouded by her perfect heart shaped face. My delusions of Naomi are stubborn.

I hate being an insomniac. 

''Calm yourself, man.' Vincent relaxed into the couch, eyeing Kara. She sighed, stating that I should go to Dylan and Mike's office to check on Naomi. Apparently my ego and my rational side had been conversing without me noticing. 

I struggled out of bed, trying to shake away the pulsing in my head. I won't be able to work out properly if I feel this way. 

"Hell, fourteen days away from her is a bit too long," I murmer to myself bitterly. I almost ripped the door off of its hinges as I stepped out of my current comfort zone. It was time to pay Naomi a visit.