Demons [Eddie Brock] Venom

6. Dream

                Aurora steps into the massive condo, windows from ceiling to floor overlooking the beauty of the city of San Francisco. Glittering lights sparkle like stars, for the light pollution doesn't allow them to see the real stars. She longs for her home town, a small town a long ways away, but cuts off the reverie before it starts. There is no point in dwelling on the past when she has a perfectly good future here.

"Hey, I'm home," she calls gently through the massive home. Every day maids come and tidy up, even when it doesn't need to be tidied or cleaned. Rory doesn't mind doing some cleaning, but he would never allow her to do such.

"Yeah, just a moment," his voice comes from the vast living room. He steps into sight, but there are shadows that obscure his face. "Good evening, Aurora, I'll be with you in a moment."

She nods, feeling as though this place isn't her home at all. It's too big, it's too glamorous for her. She was raised humble, and yet here she is, in a high rise condo on the top of the world. Her small apartment recently was vacated as he insisted she move in; they were together for a year, why on earth was she still living in that shabby apartment when she could have everything she ever dreamed of here?

Well, she never dreamed of high rises and maids cleaning up after her.

Still, the tempting offer of a room of her own to paint in, it was what sold her.

That, and he moved her stuff out of her apartment two months back. She came home to find her key didn't fit the lock anymore, then a chauffer came to bring her to her new home. Now, she lives here, though it does not sit right with her.

Finally, he is off the phone, and he walks briskly over to her and touches her arms, kissing her gently.

"Aurora, you look ill. Have you been sleeping?" he asks.

She nods.

She hasn't, for two months it hasn't sat right with her that she is living here, that she is sleeping next to him every night. Something creeps inside of her telling her in sardonic whispers that she is worthless, that she could never afford a place like this, that she needs him to make it big in the world of an artist. He has connections, he'll sell her paintings.

"I'm going to paint for a while, then shower?" She asks, and it disgusts her that she asks him.

"Oh, no, get dressed, we're going out."

"I'm exhausted," she pleads.

"I insist, Aurora. You don't even work – how could you possibly be tired?"