Page 22 of The Raven

Back To Where It Began

The Raven

I didn’t tell Mason the truth. The truth that every time I tuned into my raven, all I could see was darkness. It happened after we had sex. Before, I could see through her eyes as she flew high in the sky, looking for Grim. After, there was nothing.

The darkness remained the entire time he and I drove around the town looking for any clue as to Grim’s whereabouts. Every time I checked in with her, all I could see was pitch black, and an unsettling realization sank into my bones.

Grim had her.

It was the only explanation.

I figured it happened when I was too busy enjoying my last time being intimate with Mason. If I hadn’t been so distracted, I would’ve noticed her warnings, would’ve noticed that her vision had been covered by a thick black veil.

Mason was already fretting, so I kept the information to myself. If he’d discovered that Grim had likely discovered my weakness, it would have been impossible to stop him from coming with me when Grim eventually showed himself.

As it happened, I didn’t need to worry.

Helplessly, I watched from the shadows as Mason was led to a waiting car with his hands cuffed behind his back as he was driven away.

I wanted to go after him, but what could I do? He told me to trust him, and that he knew what he was doing, and that was all I could do. Trust him. Trust that he’d be able to get himself out of the mess I’d landed him straight in the middle of.

I guess one good thing came out of Mason’s unexpected incarceration; I didn’t have to worry about him while I had my showdown with Grim. If he were locked up, Grim couldn’t hurt him. And by the time Mason was released, Grim would be dead. I hoped.

I never really understood how I could appear and disappear on a whim; I supposed it was a ghost party trick. As soon as Mason was driven away from his apartment, I vanished from where I loitered, reappearing outside my old childhood home.

Back to where it began.

Autumn leaves crunched under my boots as I walked across the yard to where tall, metal barriers had been erected around both mine and Mason’s old house.

A few years back, a developer had bought them both, along with the fields at the back where Mason and I used to play.

Rumor had it that the developer was going to knock down our houses and build a bunch of new homes, but for whatever reason, it never came to fruition, and our houses were left abandoned.

As I slid through a gap in the barriers, memories began flashing in my mind. Christmases, birthdays, baking with my mom, and laughing with Nathan as we played ball. None of the happy memories included Grim.

I thought he hated me from the minute we first met. At the age of twelve, and being an only child, I was excited at the prospect of gaining an older brother. He was three years older than me, and I thought he’d become a protective big brother.

The reality was nothing like I’d imagined.

When Nathan introduced him, Grim had looked at me with a deep scowl on his face and disgust in his eyes. I couldn’t understand what I’d done wrong to earn his wrath or why he insisted on making my life a misery.

Until I turned fifteen. The very day Mason left, and while I lay on my bed sobbing my heart out, Grim snuck into my room. Catching me off guard, he flipped me onto my back and pinned both my arms above my head in one of his calloused hands.

“Now that cunt has gone, we can be together,” Grim had said before slamming his mouth down on mine, his tongue invading my mouth despite my protests. He tasted of cigarettes, and when his hand roamed over my body, touching me in places I hadn’t even let Mason touch me, nausea churned in my stomach.

Despite struggling underneath him, he was too strong for me to buck him off, and he managed to rip my top down, exposing my breasts. I screamed and screamed, but he wouldn’t stop.

Before he could go any further, though, Nathan arrived home and heard my distressed cries. He burst into my room and yanked Grim off me, punching his son in the face.

My vision had blurred from all the tears gathered in my eyes, but I could make out the bulge in Grim’s pants, and it hit me how close I’d come to being raped by him.

That was when Nathan disowned him. He kicked Grim out and told him that if he ever came near me again, Nathan would bury him alive. The last words Grim ever spoke to his father was to tell him to watch his back.

Yet, he’d been looking at me when he said it.

After, Nathan encouraged me to go to the police and report Grim, but I didn’t.

I was too ashamed, thinking Grim would somehow spin the story to make it look like I had led him on.

By that time, Grim had already gotten away with several crimes, and I knew he’d find a way out of my accusations.

In the end, I swore Nathan to secrecy, making him promise not to tell my mom.

I didn’t tell anyone what happened. Not even Mason.

In the years that followed, Grim kept his distance, but I knew he was out there, watching me.

Waiting for a time to strike. He’d park under the trees near my school, far enough away that I could only just make him out.

When I started college, he would appear on campus, disappearing as quickly as he’d arrived, and making me think I was losing my mind.

After college, Nathan helped me buy my flower shop, and within a month of opening it, someone broke in and smashed the place up. Break-ins and criminal damage to my shop became a regular occurrence. I could never prove who was responsible, but I always knew.

He never spoke to me. Never approached me. Until that one night, exactly one year ago.

Broken wood creaking under my feet pulled me from memories of the past as I stepped up the two wooden steps to the porch. Time to focus. The smell of damp, rotting wood hit my nose as I nudged the front door open, the busted lock failing to keep anyone out.

Before going any further, I crouched and pulled the knife out of my boot from where I’d stashed it when I re-dressed earlier. Clasping the handle tightly, I stepped across the threshold and into the house.

Half of me expected Grim to jump out and attack me; the other half knew he was waiting for me in the basement.

His sanctuary.

I crept through the house, listening intently for any sign that he was somewhere other than where I thought he was, but when warning squawks filtered up from the basement, my worst fears were confirmed, and hope that he was elsewhere in the house died an instant death.

Summoning every ounce of courage I had, I made my way to the door at the far end of what used to be our dining room and began my descent down the creaky steps on shaky legs.

With every step I took, fear crawled through my veins as my bird’s cries of warning grew louder, more desperate. When I hit the last step, an invisible vice wrapped around my chest, squeezing hard enough to make it feel like my ribs were breaking.

A wince left me as I surveyed the basement, looking for danger. It was exactly as I remembered from the few times I’d been brave enough to venture down here after Grim moved out. Dark, dingy, and reeking of stale smoke.

Grim’s old couch still sat in one corner, the stained blue cloth now moth-eaten, and the baseball bat he used to carry around with him was propped up against a table littered with beer cans and overflowing ashtrays.

My gaze shot to the far end of the basement, and the reason for my discomfort became apparent. Grim leaned against the wall, a malicious grin on his face. In one hand, he held a knife. In the other, he held my raven.

She writhed in his tight grip, her beak attempting to attack where he held her, but not quite reaching. Panic flooded my system, merging with my fear as everything she was feeling poured into me.

For a tense few seconds, neither Grim nor I spoke, the two of us silently staring at each other, waiting for the other to make a move.

“I suppose I should wish you a Happy Anniversary,” he finally said, his head tilting to one side. “One year ago today, I killed you.”

I clenched my jaw, doing my best not to react to his taunting tone.

“You know, until yesterday, I didn’t believe in ghosts,” he continued, taking a step away from the wall.

“When Buck told us that you had returned from the dead and were killing us one by one, I thought he’d lost his fucking mind.

” He chuckled humorlessly, taking another step toward me.

I readjusted my grip on the knife, ready to attack.

“But here you are. In the flesh. Tell me, sister. Did you enjoy me fucking you so much, you decided to return from the dead for round two? I’ll happily indulge if you ask nicely. ”

“Fuck you,” I snarled, unable to hold back, and taking my own step toward him.

Grim raised his knife, holding the tip to my bird. “Don’t come any closer, or I’ll put my theory to the test that if I kill birdy, I’ll kill you.”

My feet froze. He had figured it out.

A smug smirk tugged on his lips. “That’s what I thought. How about you put your knife down?”

“How about you put yours down?” I retorted.

To my utter surprise, he dropped his knife, the feeble light glinting off the blade as it clattered to the concrete ground. “Your turn.”

It was a trick. Of course it was. I had no doubt whatsoever that Grim had more weapons hiding on his body. “I think I’ll keep hold of it for now.”

Grim shrugged. “Have it your way.”

He raised his hand again, only this time, he wrapped it around my raven’s head. Her squawking turned wild, and in an instant, I knew what he was going to do.

“No!” I screeched, panic propelling me forward.

But I didn’t make it in time.

Grim’s dark eyes stayed on me as he twisted his hands, and a sickening crack echoed around us.