{desiderium (noun) – the feeling of desire, and longing for something a person may have lost.}
newt's pov:
THREE YEARS, SEVEN MONTHS, ONE WEEK AND FIVE DAYS LATER
A smear of blood rested on my fingertip, submerging itself into my skin, seeping its way through the pores, the cuts, the wounds.
Because having other people's blood on your hands have consequences – and it doesn't take long to learn the hard way.
It's painful, and a long journey to reach a point of slight relief, where finally you can lift your head up and actually feel lighter. But you don't, and each time, you wonder if you will.
And when you've been beaten down by your own hand so many times, after a while, you begin to believe that that's just how it will stay. That there is no way for your head to feel less fuzzy, and for your legs to feel less weak.
But after a long while, your senses clear, and you can breathe again.
It happens slowly – so slowly in fact that you probably won't realise it at first. So slowly that the first microscopic change will most likely go unregistered.
But over time, the changes begin to build up and expand, to conjoin together to create a great impact, and a larger difference.
And when that day arrived, the day that my eyes were haunted less, and my sleep was finally uninterrupted – it felt euphoric.
The day where I finally could breathe again.
"The clearest day of your life, I call it." Amos explained, cleaning the blood from his knife with a wet cloth. "The day where you realise the guilt has finally crept away, and killing becomes easier. Don't worry, it's much less painful this way."
Fi scoffed from her seat. "It's not like it's some sort of holiday, Amos, it's actually a horrific thing to experience."
The girl had her foot up on the table, undoing her laces from the boots she wore, so she could soke them before the blood stained. It's odd how often that has to be done around here.
"At first, sure, but you know for a fact that it gets easier afterwards. It's the only thing that saved any of us around here." Amos replied, shooting the girl an irritated look.
"I won't deny that it got easier, it definitely did, but then I also felt worse, you know what I mean?" Dion huffed, shoving a slice of apple he had just cut up into his mouth. "if you ask me, I feel more unstable than I did before, because now, I don't really feel bad."
Dion swallowed the slice of apple and continued. "Now, I'm like, 'damn, that shot was terrible', rather than the probably less insane response of 'oh my god I just killed someone'. You know?"
Fi looked at the boy as if he had gone mental. "Sure, Dion. That was my exact thought process, you're right."
I chuckled slightly from my seat, reaching over to Dion's plate and snatching a slice of apple before he could stop me.
The boy looked over at me as if I had just shot him. "I'm going to make sure you reimburse me for that one, blondie." He remarked sarcastically, holding his heart dramatically as if he were dying.
"You are so bloody dramatic." I laughed, leaning back in my chair.
Fi seemed to agree. "You can say that again."
"You guys' suck, you know that? I was just trying to eat my apple that I earned and you greedy-"
Mid-way through whatever Dion was saying, I stopped listening as soon as I spotted the familiar tuft of black hair.
