A Knife in the Dark | ✓

Thirty Three

Sitting on my bed with Saylee and Jake felt odd, but only because for so long there had been two other bodies. That meant that elbows and knees and shoulders bumped backs and ribs and hips in uncomfortable ways, that someone often ended up half-hanging off of the edge, head brushing against the floor. But with only three of us, there was enough space that we weren't lying on top of each other.

We had all changed clothes. Jake had pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Saylee was in leggings made for training and a shirt that I swore had belonged to Clove at some point. I was in a pair of shorts made for running and a shirt that I probably (definitely) stole from Cato. In my hands was the envelope.

It was nothing special: a standard business envelope, made of plain white paper. It was sealed neatly. My name was carefully written in black ink, the curve of the letters both familiar and alien at the same time.

"Are you going to open it, or are you just going to stare at it?"

I shot a glare at Jake, who had an eyebrow cocked at me. Without replying to his question, I tore into the it and shook the contents onto the bed. Out fell a silver necklace and several pieces of paper, folded to fit inside the envelope. Saylee went for the necklace. I went for the papers.

It was three pages of written words. The writing wasn't big, but it wasn't small, either. There were no lines, yet the words were as straight as if there had been. I looked up at Saylee and Jake. "Should I read it out loud?"

Saylee made a face. "Who could possibly have that much to say?"

But of course, she knew. We all knew.

Jake nodded. "Yeah. I want to know what's so important."

I cleared my throat and took a moment to get familiar with the messy scrawl on the page. The writing was not recent--it was messier, the ink faded a little with age. But it was still legible, and so I began to read it aloud to my friends.