School felt rather quick for Thomas. Maybe it was because it was picking season.

Yeah, that’s probably it.

The last bell chimed, and Thomas was bolting out of the classroom and towards the exits. He saw Holland waiting for him, leaning against the nearby bike stand.

“You ready, Tommy?” Holland grabbed Thomas’ hand and pulled him close. Holland smell was sweeter than usual today; he seemed excited for picking season as well.

“Ye—“

“THOMAS!! THOMAS MEERS!!”

Thomas and Holland turned towards the voice, and saw a small girl with an oversized hoodie dashing to them.

She stopped in front of them, panting, her hands on her knees, and then looked up to greet Thomas right in the eyes.

“Hello, Thomas!” She said, a knowing look in her eyes.

Thomas sniffed her and grimaced; she was a bad fruit. A really bad fruit.

Holland must have seen Thomas’ reaction because he snarled, “What do you want, Penny?”

The Penny’s eyes were an empty blue, her brown hair was ruler straight. Thomas knew her kind. The smell told everything.

He smiled. “Would you like to help us this season?”

The Penny smiled back, pearly, white teeth out and showing. “Yes, yes I would.”

——

**_Holland_**

The picking seasons are just supposed to be me and Thomas. _THOMAS_ and _ME_.

Not: Thomas, Penny, then me.

Thomas never needed anyone expect me before. I don’t know why he’s doing this. That girl could be a snitch, or a spy!

But I can’t do anything now, and it seems my heart has been stabbed by the knifes of anger, sorrow, and fear.

Fear that Thomas won’t need me anymore. Fear that Thomas won’t love me anymore because he has another tool. A new, shiny tool.

“Holland.” Thomas kisses me on the cheek. “Your such a sweet angel.”

I blush and hide a smile beneath my hand. “You say that too much, Tommy.”

“But I mean it.” His face is serious as he grabs my hand. “And I thought that you liked it.”

I nod frantically. “I never said I didn’t! I just meant—“

Penny clears her throat. “Guys,” she says, mostly to Thomas, “we’re here.”

Ah, the old shed.

——

Something was bothering with Holland. Thomas knew this, but he didn’t exactly know what was bothering him.

He’d ask him when he got back from picking off the fruits with the Penny. For now, Thomas continued to sharpen and clean his many, many knives.

——

Penny

One, Two, Three

One is dead

Two is dead

Three will be dead

Holland’s in

A little mess

Should I help him?

Yes I can

But I can leave him

By himself

To rot

In that pit

So I turn

Towards the third

And chase it

To the cliff

_Stab_

_Stab_

_Stab_

_Stab_

_Dead_

_Dead_

_Dead_

Down

——

**_Holland_**

“PENNY! PENNY, YOU BITCH!” My voice is hoarse.

Screaming for about an hour will do that for you.

Sometimes, I wished my parents cared enough to give me stuff. Like a phone. A phone would be so useful now.

I collapse to the ground, wincing at my twisted ankle, the sharp rocks and twigs stabbing my head like thorns. Thomas will just leave me here. He has another tool anyway. One that’s quicker, faster, he won’t need me anymore.

“Thomas,” I sniff, rubbing at the budding tears in my eyes, “Thoomaasss!”

“Holland, so that’s where she left you.”

“THOMAS!” I quickly stand up only to cry out in pain and go back to tunbling in the ground. “Thomas! Penny—“

“The Penny is none of your concern,” he says. He tosses a rope down then slides down it. Thomas grabs my arm, to pull me up, then arranges me on his back. I twist my legs around his waist and my hands hold onto his shoulders.

Thomas climbs up the rope with ease, even with me on him, and we’re back on flat land on no time. I see that Penny was the one holding the rope.

“Oh, god, what happened to Penny’s ear?”

——

**_Penny_**

It hurt

It hurt

_It hurt _

**_It hurt_**

I thought

That Thomas understood

He does

**Too much**

He understands

What I would do

To the weak

And pitiful people

“I smelled it on you,”

He said

Thomas can’t be human

Thomas is something else

Something to be feared

He took away my ear

_Chop_

_Chop_

_Chop_

With that

Sharp

Sharp

Butcher knife

My ear

My ear

**Gone**

Just for that creature

And now I can’t leave

I know too much

The weak creature stares

He stares at Thomas

Not in shock

Or horror

The creature

Bites his lip

**Love** in his eyes

“Oh, Thomas.”

For the first time

In my life

I feel, I am

**_Scared_**

——

(Thanks for reading, I know it’s not my best, but I was bored and wanted to introduce a new character.)