The next few minutes were quiet. Alby had left to get the Baggers. Leaving the rest of us mourning. By the time the Baggers got there, the stench of death had already grown. The Baggers carried him away from the forest and into the broad daylight, Alby had gone with them. Thomas was walking to the Homestead to get any cuts patched up.
Newt had said it was time for dinner and then bed, but with the image of the sick boy in your head it seemed impossible to eat.
"What was his name?" you ask.
"Ben," Newt responds. By the tone in Newt's voice you could tell, that he didn't want to talk. You could hear the pain and sorrow lacing his voice. You get to the Homestead and grab some soup, but you don't eat it.
"What's going on?" Minho says. "Everything seems so depressed and no one will tell me why." No one responds. "See this is what I'm talking about. No-"
"Ben died," Newt interrupts. Minho, blank-faced, says nothing. He sits there still, processing the information given to him. He turns back to his soup. The rest of dinner is sat in silence. As if someone had sucked the sound out of the room.
After dinner is over, you head down the hall, as everyone else exits the Homestead. Opening the door to the bathroom, you walk to the nearest sink. You turn on the water and rinse off your face, as if that will get the image of Ben out of your head. You dry off your face and take out your braid, combing your fingers through your hair. Looking in the mirror, you notice that your eyes have turned red from weariness.
You exit the bathroom and walk down the hall. Passing through the hall, you see the girl lay there, unconscious. Her jet black hair sprawled out around her face.
You stay in the room next to hers. You lay down with a dark blue blanket laid over top of you. Putting your folded elbow under your head, you close your eyes and let the darkness of sleep take you.