Wilona's P.O.V
I sit down with a sigh of relief before looking towards the large knife that was on my nightstand and belonged to the man who lived in the apartment across from my own.
Damon.
I pick it up before I can change my mind. Holding my breath with the fear of somehow stabbing myself, I was clumsy enough to do that and end up bleeding out on my bed.
I spin it slowly in my grasp as I examine it. It was heavy which I didn't know if was normal or not for knives, but this one was. It was made of long, smooth steel which curved gently at the end with a large, wooden handle that was bumpy all over in contrast.
I hold it carefully in my grasp, my thumb rubbing across the intricate detailing that was placed into the wood, yet I couldn't make out what it was.
I feel around but my touch fails to translate anything into images. I don't stop touching it as I think of the owner.
