[𝐌𝐈𝐓 • 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝟏] He managed to make a sane eighteen-year-old INSANE.
~
He was fascinated by her. And he wanted to make her fascinated about him, so he played a game with her. Messed with her mind in ways he shouldn't have. The catch: he was th...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
┌────────────┐ ARLO LITTLE └────────────┘
DECEMBER, 2007
HE HAD to find it. He had to.
His soft fingers gliding over the rough ground, the tips of the grass tickling his clammy palms, some weeds scratching his palm instead and leaving irritated red marks, but he wasn't focused too much on the pain inflicted there. His knees on the dirt, small pebbles digging into his flesh, he knew his skin was going to have some rocks and dirt stuck into it when he stood up. He kept his hazel eyes on the ground searching for his pocket knife. He didn't mean to drop it this morning before school, he had no idea he had dropped it to begin with until he got to school, slipping his hand into the pocket of his shorts and in an instant, the world around him stopped when he grabbed nothing but air and fabric. His heart paused to register the shock he found himself in.
The whole day he couldn't focus on whatever his teacher's were talking about. Maths? He only remembered sitting at his desk and gnawing on his fingernails during the whole lesson. English? Was anyone even speaking english? He only heard the voices in the back of his head talking about all the scenarios that could happen if Ethan or his father found the pocket knife with his name on it. What would they think? Surely they would only smile proudly to find he has his own weapon. . .right?
But then again, they would furrow their brows in confusion, asking themselves why he even had a pocket knife. Where'd he get the money for it and the engraving of his name on the handle? All fingers would be pointing at his wonderful and kind mother, the only one that was left out of the loop as to what was happening in the woods. She was the only one that was able to pay for it and get the engraving. Who would give a fifteen-year-old a pocket knife?
As he searched the front yard pathway, the grass parted as if Moses himself parted it like the sea, creating a long straight line of dirt from the rusting fence to the steps of the porch. Arlo made sure to look over at the front door just in case his older brother or father decided to come out at any given moment. He had to hurry and find it, the time was ticking and the longer he took the louder it got, a warning to hurry up.
He kept looking for a few more minutes and when he got to the steps, looking under them to make sure it didn't fall under there this morning. He let out a defeat sigh, feeling the panic of telling his mother he lost it, wrapping its hands around his throat, choking him and shouting at him for being irresponsible. He knew he had it in his pocket before stepping out of the door, he knew he did.
