The Next Day.
A few hours earlier.
***
I hated black. The colour had always made me remember the bleakness of the nightsky. How you could have everything, then nothing. I had only worn it once, and that time had been for Astra's funeral.
But today, I wore it. I put on a black jacket, a pink off the shoulder top and black jeans. I would get Arthur to speak even if it that was the last thing I did.
"Luna." The caretaker, Heri, greeted with that kind smile of hers that made my heart warm.
"Heri." I greeted back, as I marched into Arthur's room with a determination that made it seem as if war had come for us all. It had for me, though. I shook the tension off my shoulders, the drawing books, pencils, and crayons in the bag I carried.
I walked in, and Arthur sat at the table as if waiting for someone. Just like Damien's parents. His mother and father. The thought made my heart twist, bitterly. No child deserved what both males had gone through.
