Through the night-pigment, I shuffle back down to where the laughing idiots lay sprawled.

Defenseless, without even a makeshift tent to camouflage their twitching bodies.

​

Sydney is snoring loudly as Morrow sleeps like no human I’ve ever seen: her birdlike body contorting into impossible positions that lead me to believe she might be missing some bones. Miriam has one arm draped over the little one, as if cradling her dreams, while Peter is seconds from accidentally rolling off the stage. I am certain he fell asleep attempting to sit upright on the edge, trying to keep guard and doing a terrible job of it.

​

It is then I spot a familiar silhouette lurching, sharing the same darkness as I, with the same plan in mind no doubt. I am startled but not surprised.     He is grown, hungry, and up to his own tricks again.

​

Nuh uh, I shake my head softly at Ives to let him know: if they’re going to be anybody’s they’re going to be mine.                                  Eventually he backs off, and I am left watching the idiots alone again.

​

I let my blade, which has grown brittle, slip back into its sheath slowly.

​

                                                                                                   It won’t kill me to spare them another day, I suppose.