The broken pen lay on the desk, dribbling ink into a dark pool on the floor.
Scattered papers blew slowly along the ground.
“What do you want, Nick?” asked Josh Woodrow, owner of the destroyed book and writing utensil.
“I told you, you can’t write anything down,” threatened Nick.
Josh sighed. “If you’d read it before you trashed it, then you’d know that I hadn’t,” he bluffed. He didn’t think Nick would gather up the loose sheets now and catch him lying.
The two stared each other down.
Unusually, Nick backed away first. “If anybody finds out, I’ll come back. Do you understand? I’ll come back, and I’ll mess up more than your stupid diary.”
Then Nick stalked off towards the cafeteria.
Josh was now alone in the library with the mess. He made sure to pick up as many pages as he could. Each one contained another piece of the truth that would keep him safe from the worst that Nick could inflict.
He didn’t notice until he’d collected most of them that each now bore blue smudges. He’d gotten ink all over his hands. He laughed and collapsed into his chair as the adrenaline suddenly wore out.
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