Amelie

　　I get up to my room and sit on the bed. I just stare at the box for a while. I work up the nerve to open it. I find the key attached to the ribbon bookmarker connected to the book's spine. I turn the key and open the box. There it is, the tools of the horrible ritual I would have to perform. There is a small wooden bowl; It's already stained red for years of countless others who felt the same as me. This was the only way out. There are two small daggers. One is ...