CHAPTER THREE - PART I

                                    

                                              
Day 2,030 (7 months before the arrival of the Eligius Corporation)
                          
The cell was dark. It was damp. A place of permanent blackness, the room oozed loneliness, pain – eternal torment. Smelled like it too. Aboard the Eligius station, everything stunk – those in charge, the prisoners, the rancid souls of these people...
                          
Not that John Murphy particularly cared about any of these things. He himself embodied them. For most of his life, loneliness had followed him around like an everlasting curse, an everlasting plague. People went out of their way to avoid him, to torment him. His mother especially. 
                          
He was a cockroach, irrelevant and ugly – an insect to avoid.
                          
In anger, Murphy threw a piece of rock against the wall of his cell. It hit the metal with a satisfying bang. Fuck that rock. Fuck the Eligius Corporation. Fuck all of it. 
                          
He didn't want it anymore. The rock. It was from Earth, a sacred memento. It didn't belong here. Murphy didn't belong here. He didn't belong on Earth either. A screw-up, that's what he was. For a while there, he had imagined a life for himself, a life with Emori. He had imagined a family, had come close to it too. 
                          
The first two and half years had been the best years of his measly existence. The Ark, a behemoth of horrible and tragic memories, had once held nothing but sorrow. But with Emori, with the rest of them, things were different. They had all experienced hardships aboard The Ark – no one more so than him. But with them, there was laughter. There was happiness. 
                          
There was family – something Murphy had never had before. Everyone was at peace with their decision to leave Earth, everyone save Bellamy.
                          
Murphy stood. He reached for the Earth rock. He chucked it at the wall. Again and again and again, he threw it. With every throw he screamed. With every throw he shouted. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Tears of hatred pooled in his eyes. And with every vehement curse, he pictured her head on a spike.
                          
She had taken everything from him. Kalypso. Kalypso the Pure. Kalypso the Kind. Kalypso the Deceiver. Kalypso the Destroyer.
                          
Suddenly, the door to Murphy's cell block opened. Heavy footsteps could be heard pounding against the metal floor. They were followed by lighter ones, quiet and deft. He instantly recognized both footfalls. Hope bloomed in his chest.
                          
When the cell door opened, Murphy was breathing hard, exertion and frustration tugging at his lungs. He fumbled with the rock in his hand.
                          
"You have ten minutes," barked Orion – Kalypso's whore. What followed had Murphy lunging in the darkness.
                          
Emori.
                          
Emori stumbled into his cell, obviously pushed. Murphy caught her, grabbing her by shoulders to steady her.
                          
"John," joyful and tearful sounds escaped her lips. Her voice cracked as she murmured, "Oh John..."
                          
He embraced her, pulling her into his chest, careful of her belly. When she finally took a step back, when her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she smiled. It was a sight to behold. Her tears were gone. She had wiped away the evidence, the only telltale signs were her reddened eyes, her reddened cheeks.
                          
She placed a gloved hand on her pregnant belly. Murphy's hand followed suit. 
                          
Emori was warm, her hand, her belly. And it was the kind of warmth that hearths emanated, that hearths basked in. It was the kind of warmth that occupied homes, the kind of warmth that satiated familial hearts. Murphy had never experienced anything like it. A kindred soulmate, she was the moon to his darkness.