COMPLETED 2016-2017
• • Book One in the SPARK duology • •
"Hey wait there a second, invisible boy. I never said I had feelings for Enoch."
"Oh please," he scoffed. "The romantic connection between the two of you is so excruciatingly considerable th...
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Boketto
(v) the act of gazing vacantly into the distance without thinking • • •
Tears stuck to my face like glue. Heavy, wet and burdensome tears plummeted from my eyes uncontrollably for a while as Emma held me. After a time of my dear friend comforting me, all the peculiar children had gone back inside by our beloved ymbryne's demand. Miss Peregrine stayed outside and walked down the porch steps, meeting Emma and me. The two women helped me inside once I had stopped my tears, carrying my suitcase back inside as well.
I had to see Enoch.
No matter how many times my brain told me not to go see him, I knew deep down that he was feeling worse than I was. I had panicked and now I'm paying for it.
I quickly began walking upstairs when a noise from the first floor stopped me. Walking back down the steps, the sound of clinking jars brought me to a basement door. It was cracked open slightly, allowing the clatter from the muggy basement to echo out. I knew only one person who would be organizing jars down there. Immediately, I found myself easing down the creaky stairs. Enoch was shuffling the jarred organs around like a machine. No emotion. No off button.
"Enoch?"
No answer.
"Enoch," I spoke with dread. "I know that you're mad at me, and you have every right to feel that way."
He didn't respond, so I continued.
"I didn't know what to do, Enoch. I felt like I had to leave. I had to take away the pain before it enveloped me and everyone else. I'm so sorry, Enoch. I'm so sorry."
My eyes stung with tears as Enoch ignored me. My throat grew sore and my eyebrows remained furrowed together. My head popped up when Enoch began to speak.
"You could have at least brought my watch with you," he spoke dully. Enoch spoke in a way that stabbed me in the heart. It didn't sound like he was talking to me. It was as if I were Victor, or someone else he had no feelings for.
"I tried-"
"I guess it's just not that important to you. I've come to a conclusion that I'm not important enough for you either," he interrupted, still sorting his jars.
"That's not true, Enoch. Not at all," I responded, my voice breaking.
My breathing hitched as more tears fell from my eyes. I looked down at the ground watching each tear collide with the cement flooring, darkening it with wet splatter marks. Enoch had stopped working at the sound of my cries, but continued facing away.
