To Crush a Rose - Floyd & Riddle

Chapter 6

Time was strange here. Sometimes it would feel like months had passed when it was only a few weeks. Other times, a year would pass by in an instant. Instead he began to pay attention to seasons. He'd watch the snow begin to melt and the leaves turn color. Take note of when the crops in his small garden began to ripen or die. His small strawberry garden had turned into raspberries, potatoes, and blueberries. Floyd would continually bring home roses insisting that they suited him until he'd finally relented and started surrounding the house with them. It seemed ironic since it seemed he hadn't even known his first name, let alone his last.

Their relationship had stabilized once again now that Riddle had made it his goal to gain the other's trust, though he wasn't particularly happy about it. Despite new freedoms, it was harder to get alone time. When he was reading, Floyd lay down and curl onto his lap. The ghoul would insist on helping Riddle in his garden. He'd even relented and begun teaching him how to cook—at least that meant decently free access to the knives. If he could pinpoint a weakness, he'd make sure to use them.

With these freedoms came more chances to escape, but he'd already made up his mind. Despite the fact that he had free reign of both the indoors and outdoors during the daytime even when the ghoul was away, he wouldn't run. His mom deserved better. He deserved better. There was no way he could let the chance go, even if it took years. Even if he died for it.

But he needed clues . Fingertips ran along the plastered walls as he walked down the hallway towards the older boy's room. He'd been reluctant to go in there alone—often too afraid that Floyd would return early and catch him snooping. That he'd figure out that his only reason for staying was to kill him and would simply eat him in the process. But what did that matter? Each day he spent here was only prolonging the inevitable.

Still, the redhead paused at the closed door, tapping lightly at the wall as he took in the grain of the wood as he took a few deep breaths to try and calm himself. He went to town. He won't be back for at least an hour . But the fear returned: what if he forgot something? What if he gets hungry on the way and has to come back to clean up? Not that either of these things happened particularly often, but they had happened before. Riddle could feel sweat building up on his hands, but he turned the handle of the door to reveal the normal messy room that Floyd couldn't seem to keep clean.

Surprisingly, the nervousness washed away upon seeing everything tossed around. Even after all these years, Riddle was still surprised by how normal Floyd seemed on paper. His clothes would be tossed on the ground, bed a mess, and although the room was scarcely decorated, it still had a certain human charm to it. It made him less nervous to search for clues.

The boy started at the bookshelf, glancing over the different books showing varying ages. He didn't expect to find anything here—Floyd usually would let him peruse through these when he was home and nothing seemed particularly out of the ordinary. He'd already read the book that Floyd had given him about the jinkininki as well, but that hadn't helped either. These cannibalistic creatures seemed far too elusive to be written about extensively, but there had to be something .

Riddle let out a sigh as he shook his head, finding nothing that seemed particularly interesting. He turned his attention towards the small desk, sitting in the chair as he opened the different drawers he hadn't had the courage to do in front of the teal-haired boy.

And there was something interesting.

As one of the drawers slid open, blue-grey eyes fell upon an old leather bound book. Eyebrows knit tightly together as he took in the impressions on the cover—the gold leaf of "FL" nearly completely gone. Riddle pulled out the book, carefully opening it up as he took in the handwriting on the fragile paper.