Black heart

Previously

…Leo took the pencil sharpener from his dad, turning it over in his own hands. It still looked a little dark, a little mysterious, but the terror had vanished, replaced by a flicker of curiosity. He imagined his dad’s words, a million pencils, a million stories. Maybe, just maybe, this black heart wasn't so scary after all. He placed it back on the bedside table, no longer a harbinger of doom, but a curious, surprisingly functional, relic of the past. He yawned, a genuine yawn this time, and snuggled back into his duvet, Barnaby still clutched, but no longer quite so tightly. The shadows in his room still danced, but now, they looked more like playful sprites than lurking monsters.