✧ ཻུ۪۪. love is the most beautiful of dreams ,
and the worst of nightmares . . .
in which the quiet sister of lizzie and mika learns that to love deeply is to ache - that hurt is part of the package, and the beauty...
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A BLADE WAS ALIEN, in her hand. Disorienting, bulky between her fingers. Ella never did like holding one of them. Nothing that was lethal enough to kill another living creature.
Blue against her hand, its handle was metallic in color, secured by smoothed over screws and elegant undertones of gray across its sharpened edge. It was a folding knife, one gifted by Carol, yesterday evening. Following their story time, a false title for basic weaponry training, the woman had handed one out to each of the children. Providing them with a tool she believed could save their life.
The prior day, it lingered in Ella's mind, far more heavy than what potential she now wielded in her hand. Memories of her mother, images of Lizzie intrigued by the dead. Showcasing her interest to the world without a single care. Graphic novels that detailed an enviable fantasy, the boy who shared such tales. A soccer ball passed between her boots. Words exchanged from the mouth of one of the younger Grimes, harsh in his role as a critic. Unsympathetic ones at that, taunting her mind. Confusing her even more. Clouding the image of who she hoped would be her friend.
He had followed them, when they left. Ella would have liked to think that Carl came after her, perhaps feeling bad from their argument, however that seemed highly unlikely. Given that he still had not talked to her, that is. Not even after meeting her gaze between the shelves of books, only before witnessing Carol's rebellious antics. He didn't look at her again, after that.
It was true, what Carol was doing, the majority of their parents would not approve of such a thing. Ella's certainly wouldn't. Ryan Samuels grew nervous at the thought of his children with a knife, really any weaponthat was a reminder of violence. He was one of the few adults left who wanted his girls to live in a state of replicated peace. That meant no guns, no knives. No anything.
Somehow, the Peletier convinced all of the children to keep it a secret. Even those as young as six years old.
