Ivy’s actions had become frightening from Eve’s odd angle of sight. The voice inside Eve’s head begged again to stay in her safety zone, throwing itself to the back of her mind to cower from the scene, imploring that she not upset Ivy and make things worse.
Yet she still wanted it to stop, wanted Ivy to turn back into her self. The inky, pervasive thoughts of her past, every person she knew; dead. She couldn't help the reaction welling up inside of her. The man with Ivy wasn’t someone she liked, but, he, reminding her of her previous helplessness, was someone she did not want to see being hurt.
Watching on, her bottom lip quivering she couldn’t help let out a single sob, as her inner conscious fought with survivalist mitochondria.