Dagger's Point

Twenty-One

I am buried beneath my blankets, I can't remember the last time I have done something productive in life. There is no more exercising race horses, no more seeing Bea and Conan. Dad doesn't know what's wrong with me, and I feel like a apart of him doesn't care. Every day he looks in to check that I am still breathing, but aside from that he doesn't say anything. I haven't said anything either, not to Bea or Conan after they dropped me off that last time. The meal had been a disaster to say the least, nothing about it was helpful. The whole time I pretended like I wasn't there, wrapping myself in fantasies of Dagger.

Since that night they text me almost everyday, even Frank does, well did. Her messages only lasted a few days before she stopped all together, leaving me to wallow in my self pity. I shouldn't let this bother me a much as it is, I mean he was just a horse. The same as Award, who I knew for longer and still even his death didn't leave me with this amount of pain. Mom is the only thing that i can compare to it, this huge mass that sits on my chest, weighing me down, suffocating me slowly. I know that I need to pull myself together, but I can't, there's no way.

I can hear my phone buzzing, feeling miles away from where it sits on my nightstand. I wait through it, holding my breath as the light illuminates everything else in the dark room. I can't remember the last time I opened the blinds.

Thankfully, my phone falls quiet, the screen lighting up one last time before falling dark. I've had a lot of time to think in this darkness, about everything. I want to know if Mr. Oxford is happy with himself, for what he has done. There is a small part of me that wants to bring down pain on Jasper, he's the one that told him in the first place. If anything will get me out of bed, my full blown anger at him will. But I'm too tired to get up and face the world, so instead I slowly worm my way out of the blankets. Shivering at the temperature, I make my way to the bathroom, in full desire of a shower. It's been too long since I've taken one, and maybe, if anything, that can pull me out of my stupor.

I don't feel any different after my shower, expect colder, and a bit cleaner. I put forth enough effort to put on a different set of pajamas. But in the process I catch sight of a picture of Award. His simple face staring back at me, the gentle eyes boring into my soul, and the crooked blaze. I feel angry, and heavier, my body sinking down onto the bed as I stare at that picture. This can't be healthy.

I manage to get up and turn it away from me, his judgemental eyes telling me everything that I have told myself. I need to move on.

But instead of doing anything I fall back down onto my bed, curling up into a small ball. I am about to grab my phone; Netflix calling my name, when I hear a knock at the front door. I groan, there is no way that I'm going to go answer it, so instead as another round goes off I burrow deeper into my covers, trying to ignore it. There are a couple more knocks until nothing, and I breathe a sigh of relief, they must have left. Then I hear the door handle, and the sound of squeaking hinges. Whoever it is has let themselves in. I know that I should be worried but I brush it off as being the fake red-head. I am about to click onto a movie when there is knock at my bedroom door. You have to be kidding me. I don't say anything, just release a loud sigh, ready to go back to what I was doing.

"Ollie I know you're in there, and you better be clothed because Conan and I are coming in. Not that he hasn't seen you nakey before, but still."

It takes a long moment before it dawns on me, Bea and Conan are in my house. What are they doing here?

I don't have a chance to say anything as Bea barges in, the door hitting my wall as I jolt upright in bed. I stare at her, eyes wide, before they travel back to meet Conan's green one's. His face is twisting into a frown, the shock obvious on his face before he schools his features. I still feel the sting, though I guess I shouldn't expect any other kind of reaction. I am a mess.

"Get your ass out of bed, we're going on an adventure," Bea grumbles at me, marching towards my bed and yanking away my blankets.

"I don't want to go."

I break past the awkward tension, in my chest, though, I still can't believe they are standing here in my room. It's weird, and feels oddly invasive, but at the same time I can't be mad at them, that would be useless.

"You're hilarious. Get up. Get dressed and let's roll," she snaps, moving back to the door before passing in the doorway.

"If you aren't up and ready in five minutes, I will come back and personally drag you out of bed in that."

Then my door slams shut and I am left to either wallow in my pity or get carried away by Bea. If it was anyone else I wouldn't think that they would go through with it, but knowing Bea, she isn't joking around. I don't want to move, my body stiff and awkward. There is no way that whatever adventure she has in her mind is going to be actually fun. At least not now. Still, even with that I manage to yank on a pair of shorts and a shirt. Nothing crazy, but still better than pajamas. When I step out Conan and Bea are standing so close that their noses' are almost touching, it takes me aback for a moment when I think that they are going to kiss. But instead, Bea is merely getting in his face to yell at him, her whispers loud and intense.

"I'm ready."

Bea jerks away from him, an intense glare thrown at him, before turning to me with a smile so wide that I wince. A smile like that can never mean anything good.

"What are you going to torture me with?" my voice is monotone, a dragging and droning type sound.

"Don't be like that. I just wanted to get you out of bed. Fred is the one that is going to do some torturing."

"What do you mean?"

I follow them outside, my feet dragging in my shoes. I don't want to go, the sun too bright in my eyes, and the earth seeming too dull to warrant my attention.

"You'll see. I think you should go put some boots on though. For your safety."

I groan inwardly, what am I doing?

Soon enough though I am in Conan's truck, sitting in the passenger seat as per Bea's request. It feels awkward being so close to him, or either of them really. I'm not in the mood to be around people, they're too much to handle. I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything, allowing Bea to ramble on endlessly from the back seat. I try not to think about the last time I rode in his truck, I frown so deeply that I can feel the pull in my cheeks. I don't want to think about him, but that's all that I can do, Dagger is there present in my my mind as ever. I can't help but wonder how Simon reacted to the news, or did he merely show up and see him gone, and know that the worst has happened. I want to imagine him marching to the big house, and getting in an argument with Mr. Oxford, but I know that is pure fantasy. I wonder then what Jett and Jasper are up to, if Dagger's demise has freed them of whatever baggage they carry around associated with him.

Green River looks the same as the last time I saw it, but it still evokes a twinge of guilt in my stomach. I frown as two groom's stand outside the one barn, hosing down a familiar grey horse. His dark coat sparkles in the sunlight, hooves dancing between the two groom's restlessly, as he tosses his head into the air. I frown deeper, horses are not what I want to be around right now. But still I can't stop watching, Thunder Bird impossible not to look at. With his front hoof he strikes out against the cement, bouncing on his hooves like I would imagine a much younger horse to do. The groom's seem fed up with his antics, but still they are calm, tracing their hands over his legs, smoothing down the liniment they rub there.

But instead of stopping at the barns he keeps driving along the driveway, going a way that I have never gone before. Moving along a gentle incline the farm splays out below us, the paddocks coming into view, with the horses in them becoming small dots. Then it stops, a small bungalow type house in full view. I never imagined her to live in such a small house, there are flowers everywhere, all different kind and in a variety of bright colors. There are even gnomes hiding around the garden, a particular one boring his eyes into my soul. He holds a scowl, with his bright red hat, and a turtle in it's arms.

"Fred should be inside."

Neither of them seem surprised with the state of everything, walking along a stone path with gnomes peering at us on either side. I try not to look at them, if there is evil in the world, gnomes rank right alongside Mr. Oxford. Bea doesn't bother knocking on the door, simply swinging it open and marching inside.