𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓬𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓫𝓸𝔂 // 𝓷𝓮𝔀𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 ✿

The Dagger

Newt's room is tucked in the upper right corner of the Homestead. The stairs give in response to my weight as I march upwards. I feel the cold smooth metal of his doorknob. I gently open it. Everything here reeked of him, but almost in a pleasant way. As if it was completely evident this room belonged to him.

Books were strewn haphazardly around the quarters. His double person cot was a mess of sheets and jumbled pillows. Various herbal and botany books were tented on the bed and nightstand. Along with a flickering lamp he must've left on.

I quit observing his room and scramble to the floor. I dig my fingers under each board until I find a wobbly one. My fingers eventually catch under a shorter length board, and I pry it from the old Homestead floor.

I inhale sharply at the sight of it. It has a small handle of brass, and a shiny metal blade. Several specks of the boy's blood coat the edges. I gingerly pick it up and sheath it into my belt. I hurry out of the door, not wanting to linger in his space any longer.

Has he already left the tree?

I decide to head back and see for myself. I don't even understand exactly what my intentions are. What am I gonna lecture him? Make some big speech about his actions. It's all dumb. This boy doesn't deserve this life.