TW // knife, blood, vomit

( ARIA'S POV )

"IT'S A KNIFE."

     An hour or so later, with the group all settled, our focus immediately shifted from the river incident to the mystery sitting on the palm of my hands.

     The handle was a deep red, with a gold lining where it met the silver. Thin trails of brown and beige laid on the leather. My reflection was barely visible on the rugged, smooth surface of the blade. The pointed end stretched longer than your household knife, and the metal felt cold— but mystery and motives run deep. Any assassin would be delighted to get ahold of it.

"What's a knife good for?"

"Murder," Peter stated bluntly.

Haven took the item off my hands, examining the blade the way you would when staring into your lover's sparked eyes. Invisible waves travelled from her head into mine, igniting the desire for an adventure— a calling.

     "We should test it out," Miren suggested.

     Issac motioned to a pile of mushrooms and berries. Haven held the object as a weapon more than a tool— because, you know, food comes to life as monsters sometimes. She amused me.

And the sarcasm was rubbing off on me. Great.

     The blade rested on the middle of the fungus, which Haven carefully pressed down and glided towards herself. Except, like most worn out, household cutlery, it failed to create a slit. No halves were formed— rather, the supposedly sharp metal touched the mushroom and created a temporary parting, which hadn't last 5 seconds.

"This shit show is a hoax," Giovani commented. I remembered seeing him behind a tree of ashes, and the hesitation in his voice as I walked into the picture. The trauma he had every bit of trouble telling me about. He endured a moment of that— for what? For us to be led deeper into the garden until we lose our minds?

Maybe, actually.

"This has to be a sick joke. What in the name of all things holy is this?" Haven added.

Nayari managed to keep herself from fuming. How does she have an endless supply of happiness and endurance in her 5 foot 3 tall body? She could do wonders to the world with that. But judging by our reactions— if she can't change the way we responded to the situation, then there's no hope.

Mateo's expression started to shift— an emotion I hadn't seen him wear since yesterday. He was on the verge of an anxiety attack, and in a desperate attempt to hold it in, he pushes his hands down over his mouth, concealing the heaviness caught in his throat, itching to come out.

     Haven takes a quick glance at him, and for some odd reason, offers to toss the knife at him. I didn't quite understand her ideas of comfort— but they both clearly knew each other long before this group was formed.

     Mateo reaches out to catch it, assuming it would he harmless due to their tests— but the blade ultimately takes a turn for the worse, searing through his right palm, and breathes out the word SHIT, hearing the curse so loudly it rang through my ears.

Haven was mortified, but Miren was horrified. She gagged more than once, before releasing the result of her stomach twisting onto the greener part of the grass. I immediately slid my jacket off my back, with the help of Issac, and rushed towards Miren. Peter and Nayari proceeded to rip off a sleeve, using it as a bandage for the terror residing on Mateo's hand.

I held Miren's hair up and rubbed her back, while the rest tended to the Latino. "Good girl," I whispered. "Let it out."

He hissed, cursing to the heavens as he gripped himself for the excruciating pain. You couldn't even see the surge of blood making its way onto the clothing— the color being almost identical.

"I'm so sorry— What if we staple the would closed? That cloth's not going to stop the bleeding," Haven suggested.

     Miren looks back at her, forcing a coherent sentence out of her unstable condition. "I'm sorry, what the fu—"

     Before she could swear the life out of herself, a rush of liquid passed through her throat, gagging once more.

The wound luckily, didn't sink in too deep, or we'd have a serious problem at hand.

Oh god i'm a disaster.

"Can I have water, please?" Miren mumbled, wiping her lips with a gentle brush of her shrug jacket. Peter had overheard her request, and proceeded to hand me her tumbler— without that sly look he gave me on the first day.

     Miren leaned onto a tree, forcing to balance herself. I wrapped an arm around her waist, in case she needed the support. "I think we should rest for a bit—" I addressed to the group, before I get ultimately cut out by Mateo.

     "No, we have to keep going. Five minutes tops— i'm itching to get out of this hell hole," he stated. I hesitated to nod, but everyone else seemed good with the idea.

"THERE'S SURELY MORE." Nayari told us. "We came up with a clue on the oxygen part. We could split up, and maybe find something?"

     "I think that's our best bet," Miren agreed.

     Haven's eyes hovered from the two's and onto mine, offering me the look your best friend gives you when picking partners in class.

     I couldn't say no to that.

     Around a few minutes later, the grouping was settled, and we went our separate ways, scouring the area for anything out of the ordinary.

     "WHERE TO, DICKINSON?"

     I grinned at the compliment— which she mentioned with a British accent, putting my head down to hide my tinted cheeks from her.

     Peter, however, laughed under his breath— clearly unaware that Haven meant Emily Dickinson, a famous American poet notably known for "Hope" is the thing with feathers.

     "Since we're heading towards the river, we can check the garden for anything," I suggested, and was greeted with an enthusiastic Haven.

     "Guess I made the right call choosing you," she tells me. In all its cliché-ness, butterflies scoured my stomach. I anticipated a furiously blushing face from myself, and decided to walk ahead of them.

     I could hear Peter snicker behind me. "There's a bush you can make out in there," he commented.

     "Peter!" I scolded, but it'd done nothing to rid of the smile sneaking onto my lips. He walked ahead this time, glancing at my apple-tinted face, with fallen strands framing them. I wanted to run him over the same way I did, or tried to do, with Issac and Giovani. The devilish smirk of the former had truly been rubbing off onto Peter. I pity him.

     "Shui, stop scaring the poor girl," Haven ran over to him, nudging his shoulder lightly. The two shared a look— and it made me wonder if they'd been friends before the field trip even began.

"Do you two mind if I start blabbing?" Haven asked, staring down at her "lucky" blue converse.

    "No, you're good," Peter advised her, earning a nod from me in agreement.

The river was within arms reach, but we'd decided to scout the rocks and crevices near the meander. The scenery was as familiar as it could— a rushing current, fishes of yellows and orange gliding by the water, and the wind blowing the sage green and rose pink leaves— some faded into time.

I felt that I'd been listening to the breeze in a period of time longer than I lived. It sounded of tidal waves crashing onto the sandy shore, before retreating back to its ocean. The dirt nudged in between my toes had added to the overall feeling, and for once, I saw this place for what it was— and not our version of Neverland.

"I'm going to be honest, you two are the only ones I trust in our group other that Mateo. Not because they're sketchy to me or anything, but there's this serenity— yeah, even you Peter," Haven started out, digging her fingers through her hair to tie up.

Peter hummed, removing the lighter-weighted rocks from their previous positions. She was right— behind the endless jokes and introverted irritation, you see the sincerity. I hadn't expected myself to be much of a reader, quite like Miren, but when you stop looking at the physical attributes as something that only exists on the surface, you can break through and explore the quieter parts you didn't know they had. It's similar to having a tiny bulletin board in your head for each person, pinpointing your favorite qualities about them, and the experiences you shared.

"Not many people know this, but I was adopted. Moved from foster home to another before the Coopers took me in. I just thought you deserved to know." Haven spoke to the both of us, but the way she addressed it was personal, the type of conversations you only expect to hear in the dead of night.

I slid my hands against the smoothed out stones, placing my hand on top of hers. "You're pretty brave for that, you know? I appreciate you telling us."

"Yeah, I can't imagine ever being away from my bios," Peter added. "No wonder people admire you so much."

"If we're speaking literature here," I look at her hazelnut eyes, "you're the hero of the story."

That one especially made her feel a certain warmth— it was visible in the way she was no longer tensed. We proceeded to search the area a little more before crossing the river, directing our focus towards looking around the garden.

"I'll check west," Haven suggested. "Tell me when you find anything?"

"Okay," Peter reassured her. "Aria, you good with heading north?"

I nodded, the three of us promptly parting ways similar to the way we did just moments ago, as a group.

My area was the least known— for Haven's was near the fence gates, and Peter's was beside the cave we'd discovered earlier today.

Beyond the explorable area in the north was a rooftop forest, and it physically ached not being able to touch its thick bark and overflowing leaves. There were naturally carved openings, but as I inch closer, the border stops me in my path.

Instead— I peered through different bulky bushes, admiring the blooming flowers and prominent currants residing. Speckles of rain drops sat carefully, further enhancing the beauty and glimmer of Mother Nature.

    The grass lengths were unbalanced, but I guess that added to the wonders of the place. Strands of wheat grew at the in-betweens, dandelions huddled together lining the bushes, and daisies sprouted between my boots. The sky was a beautiful, powder-like blue, stuffed with lovely cirrus clouds that take the appearance of paint swishes or a cluster of bird feathers. The sun barely shone, telling me the time was bordering on 4 o'clock in the afternoon.

( MIREN'S POV )

     "GRAB YOUR BACKPACK!" Issac sang, clapping his hand against his thigh. "Let's go, jump in, vamono—"

     Out of the blue, Mateo grabs Issac's face with his good hand, clutching it with force. "Keep singing and I will press harder until your jaw cra—"

     "For goodness same, stop fighting! One of these days I will personally vamonos you to hell," I informed them, my irritation letting lose more than it ever could on Giovani. These two were purely a different kind of breed when it comes to mischief.

"That's not how Español works, Miren."

I groan, releasing my once bunned hair into a free fall. Stroking the strands and curling them around my finger always helped in stressful moments— which didn't occur often, but then again, I usually surround myself with people who knows what restraint is.

Mateo finally lets go of his grip on Issac's face, rubbing his fingers together.

"I'm sorry—"

He and I apologized simultaneously.

I, for one, wasn't surprised to know that he was capable of noticing if his behavior had gotten bad. Although, I didn't expect it this soon.

"I don't usually silence people like that," I tell them. I successfully hid all signs of emotion that may possibly come out as weak, just as I mastered. I preferred being the life support of my peers, anyway. Not the emotional baggage.

Issac continues to massage his cheeks, eyes closing every few seconds that led him to trip on unwanted twigs.

"Let's just focus on what we need to do. I have the knife, in case anything happens." Mateo walks ahead, his tone transitioning into his usual.

He felt trapped here, my evidence being the way he rushed to get things done and the surge of panic earlier today when we hit a dead end. Truthfully, his ability to bottle it all in was impressive, but I wished he expressed it more. Despite the two of us not seeing each other eye to eye at times, I was always willing to listen to him.

"Yeah, maybe that'll get you two out of your lovesick heads," Issac jokes.

"What are you on about?" Mateo asks, eyeing him from head to toe, while picking at his newly painted nails.

Issac looks towards us, stopping in his tracks. "Oh, you know. You clearly like Haven," he points to Mateo, "and you are the poor human being whose smitten with Aria."

He points to me.

Growing up, I always knew there would be someone to listen as I express the very extent of my feelings— whether it was sadness, anger, or excessive joy— I could let myself loose as I'm showered with support.

But when things took a turn for the worst in my family, I couldn't act that way anymore. I'd say it was forbidden. Because, really, how dare I be joyful about receiving a full trick-or-treating basket of candies, when my parents and my brother were arguing in the living room?

How dare I be angry about circling rumours concerning myself, when my mother threatened to kick my brother out of the house?

How dare I be sad about a failed exam, when my brother left us for a week, and returned happier having not seen my parents?

Through time, I learned to control my emotions and savor them for when I was alone, just to save everyone else the burden. Sometimes, you learn that what you're feeling could be the exact opposite of someone else's. And you have to respect that.

Unfortunately for me, I could not control love.

Which brings us here.

"Excuse me? Why would you— please, that's impossible." I tell him, but my face decides to give him an underlying answer.

Issac raises an eyebrow. "Yet your answer is the ultimate cliché way of denying your feelings. Go home!" He sticks his tongue out, giving me a thumbs down.

Mateo snorts— which immediately gets the attention of the other boy. "I'm not done with you," he says, opening his mouth wide as he winked.

Another how dare sentence, just one last time: How dare he speak about my clichéness when he is every main character's quirky best friend to ever exist?

And in rapid panic, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

"As if you haven't tried to pursue her."

And I finally had him shut up— about that topic, at least.

( NAYARI'S POV )

"THERE'S A SLIT," Giovani tells me, gesturing to a narrow gap in-between the bricks of the garden wall, just where it met the corner.

I squinted my eyes, trying to measure the space. "I don't think out bags will fit in there."

     Giovani opens his mouth, before sealing them closed again. Instead, he took his backpack, and stuffed it through the opening. A few threads got caught into the rough cuts of the brick, but he didn't seem to mind. It made me a little queasy, worried how much the item had cost, and how reckless he was with it. Eventually, the bag pushed through.

     "If mine fits, then yours does too. May I?" He asked, surprisingly politely, and I handed to him— with a quick instruction.

     "Make sure it doesn't get tampered, the paints inside cost me my allowance for a whole month," I tell him, a sincere smile on my face. My kindness was never forced, as I hated being on bad terms with people— especially white people, that compose most of our group.

     Giovani nodded, sliding the tote bag through, acting as thin as a ruler. He looked over at me, our eyes lingering on each others' for a moment, before I looked away.

     "Ladies first?" He asked, an unusual kindness spreading about him. This wasn't the same brash boy I knew way back from 7th grade.

     Between the two of us, I was thinner. I stretched my arms out, walking slowly. My eyes couldn't see anything but the closeness of the wall— which made me feel just a little nauseous.

     I carried my bag and his on my shoulders, "Your turn, Russo!"

     I heard him laugh faintly, which grew louder as he struggled to fit through.

     "Imagine if my thing just went up right now—"

     I loosened from my stiff position, laughing at the boy's inappropriate remark. His anxiety seeping through— he was afraid of tight spaces. I knew a lot of people who covered their fears through humor, so I decided to give him a nudge. I pulled on his arm, helping him slide through.

     And ultimately falling onto the grass.

     Giovani balanced himself on top of me, with both arms pressed against the ground. He trailed his eyes all over me, my face most likely as red as it can get with my skin tone— before I roll out and help myself upright.

     I dust off the particles of dirt, and remove the loose twigs entangled into my hair. He clears his throat, the way you would when you've just escaped an embarrassing experience.

     And— oh wow. I can't believe, that out of every possible comment I could say about this beautiful place, the first one comes to mind is: Aria would never leave is she stumbled upon this.

     It was a wonderland, lingering behind the walls. The area wasn't too big, because three steps away, you'd be entering a gazebo. The walls were overgrown with flowering vines, and chimes of every shape and kind hung from the roof.

There were metal and bamboo tubes, glass butterflies, and wooden birds that held strings of seashells on their feet. The wind swayed gently, and I relaxed to the melody of nature doing its work.

Giovani stepped into the gazebo with me, grazing his hand against a few, producing sounds that made me want to break into song, like princesses do in fairy tales.

The space lacked seating, so we decided to sit opposite each other on the stone floor.

"I'm sure they wouldn't mind if we stole an hour or so from the search," Giovani said, with mischievous intentions.

I wanted to agree. I wanted to have this moment just for ourselves— but I had to be the bigger person.

Did I want to, though?

"15 minutes, then we'll start looking."

"You got it, boss," he winked.

I wanted to strangle him. Just a little.

"Why don't we ask questions and stuff? To pass the time? Lightning round?" Giovani asked, placing his chin to rest on the palm of his hands.

I nodded, admiring the song of nature once more, before starting our back-and-forth interview.

"Zodiac sign?"

"Sagittarius," he answered. "Yours?"

"Capricorn."

"Sheesh," he raises his eyebrows in a teasing manner, laughing to himself.

I scoff. "Greatest fear?"

"Don't laugh—" he told me, pouting slightly. "My mom leaving me."

"That's really sweet, actually," I told him.

"Don't go thinking I'll go easy on ya," he says, pointing a finger at me as he bit his lower lip.

I shrugged. "Worth a shot."

"Well then, guilty pleasure?"

"Apple jacks. Try harder," I advised him, who looked almost disappointed with my answer. A boring one, I know, but that's what makes this fun. "Bad habit?"

"Running my fingers through my hair every 10 seconds. Wait no— smoking."

"Why wasn't that your first answ—"

"My turn! Thoughts on Aria?"

"You are the devil reincarnate." I counter.

"I'm waiting," he clicks his tongue.

"She's okay. A little bookish and her head's always up in the clouds— but she's okay."

Giovani puts his hands up in defeat, yet again anticipating for a harsher answer than what I'm currently offering. "Thoughts on Miren?"

"Someone I could live without."

My eyes go wide eyed by his response, which he quickly changes, waving his hands in the air.

"Kidding— she's a mother to everyone she meets, but a good friend when you need one. Something you want to tell the general public but is too afraid?"

"Well that's oddly specific," I chuckle. "I've had this rehearsed in my mind actually, 'Our people have to do three times the work white people do just to prove to them we are worthy, but that doesn't equal peace. Because, we'll never truly know if we're a worthy friend or a worthy opponent.' That good for you?"

"Fucking powerful," he comments. My cheekbones are prominent as I smile, because topics such as these are close to my heart— and he appreciates them.

( MIREN'S POV )

"ENFOQUE, MIS AMIGOS!"

Mateo clapped his hands together, urging Issac and I to focus on finding anything out of the ordinary— writings, carvings, and all that. Our luck diminished on our path, so we decided to examine the caves once again.

     "I'll bet my high top sneakers that the next clue isn't here," Issac announced, lounging about beneath the bamboo tree. The cave was still as murky as it was the last time we visited. If the fallen leaf on one of the puddles remained there— which it did, then this place is certainly untouched.

     "If it isn't here, then it isn't anywhere else— because let's be honest, either Haven or Giovani would've screamed if they saw something by now." Mateo tells us, and yet he's only anxiously walking back and forth.

     "You know what would be funny?"

     "We're not interested, Issac."

     He continued anyway. "What if the clue was in the knife? A secret compartment or some shit," Issac jokes, toying around with his silver necklace.

     Mateo and I shared a look— because Issac was onto something, and he's clearly too tired to even think of it as anything. I walked towards him, kneeling down to make sure his head faced mine.

     "You stupid genius."

     "Huh? OH— holy shit, check, check, check, go check the knife handle—"

     Issac practically sprang up to his feet, the two of us rushing to Mateo, who discovered that one side of the handle flipped entirely open.

     Inside was a folded piece of faded paper, with ash-colored ink scribbles— morse code.

     But before we had any chances of reading it, Mateo's eyes fill with horror.

     "My dad has this same knife in his bedside drawer and— oh shit."

     The sound of metal clanked onto the floor.

AMELIE SPEAKS !
3.8k works oh yeahh. spent way too long on this to even try and proofread ++ it's 12am rn pls appreciate mi efforts thru guilt once again

what r we thinking ???

also i am thinking way to far ahead && i finally know how i want this to end, honestly it might mindfuck you a little lol <3 but i think i'll just hand you a good ending && post a bad alternative one :)

also i'm very thankful to those who still read this,, especially the CONSTANTS kj & daisy <3 my heart is only for the 2 of u atm :D spent the whole day writing this so i really appreciate the support (no matter how little !!)

if u see this, good morning/noon/night to you! stay safe my loves, covid hasn't banished itself yet :(