Raven
The day she cried…
“Nobody will believe a teenage whore,” Jackson sneers, his nostrils flaring. Dark circles paint his cheeks below his eyes. He’s definitely not been sleeping lately. Makes me wonder if he’s worried that at any moment I can make his world come crashing down around him.
I will.
Soon.
“When did you turn so cruel?” I ask, my voice wobbling. With everyone else, I’m strong. Optimistic. Cheery. Jackson drags me down into a hole and stomps on me every time. He makes me weak. “At one time, I thought you loved me.” That’s the truth. How stupid was I?
“Fucking your tight cunt doesn’t constitute as love,” he hisses, his voice dripping with venom. “I love my wife and daughter. Not you. Never you. You’re just a white trash piece of ass who thought she could rope herself a sugar daddy.”
I jerk my head to the side and glare at him. I’d been so smitten with him in the beginning. Melted under his praise. Fell under his spell. He played me. I walked right into his trap and let him use me.
“I never once asked you for money,” I bite out.
“But trading your pussy for legal advice isn’t the same goddamned thing?” His laugh is scornful. “Do you think you can get into college with that on your résumé, Raven?”
I don’t tell him I’m most definitely never going to college.
“I was seventeen,” I hiss, my voice rising. “Seventeen. You took advantage of me for almost a year. Used me. Let me believe you were actually helping me build a case against my abusive father. Do you think you can get into jail with that on your rap sheet, Jackson?”
I don’t tell him that he’s most definitely going to prison.
“Get out of my car,” he demands. “Take this shit to your grave because if you don’t, I will ruin you. I will ruin you and your lesbian girlfriend. My daughter doesn’t need to hang out with trash like that anyway.” He waves his phone at me. “I have all the proof I need of your little chats with Courtney Moss that shows you’re a slut who craves attention from anyone, including strangers she clearly doesn’t know.”
“Please leave her out of this,” I choke out, tears welling in my eyes. “Courtney didn’t do anything wrong. This is between us, Jackson.”
He pins me with a glare I know he must use in the courtroom—a stare that peels me apart and exposes my weakness. In this case, Courtney. I gave that to him on a silver platter. A vulnerability he’ll no doubt try to use against me.
“According to the shit I have on my phone,” he sneers. “I beg to differ. If you try to take me down, I’ll destroy her too. And, by the way, there is no us. You’re just a little desperate lying slut. Nobody believes trash like you. They’ll think you’re nothing but a money hungry girl trying to set up a wealthy man. This isn’t a Lifetime movie, sweetheart. This is reality. In reality, you’re worthless.”
“Wow,” I mutter.
“End this. Just walk away and end this,” he orders.
End this.
End this.
End this.
“End what, exactly?” I demand.
“Whatever you think you’re doing. Fuck, end yourself for all I care.”
When my nostrils flare with fury, he laughs. I hate the sound. Dark and evil.
“In fact,” he bites out. “That’s the best idea I’ve had all day. I don’t think your freak brother or your pervert dad will even miss you—especially after I send your dad these conversations proving what a little slut you are. They’re too busy fighting with each other. It’s your out, sweetheart.”
End this.
End this.
End this.
“Fine,” I say in a cold voice. “You’re going to wish you never tried to fuck me over.”
I open the car door and push it open, but he grabs my elbow before I can climb out. “I already fucked you over. I’m a McConnell and I get exactly what I wish for.”
Jerking my arm from his grip, I storm back into the house. Dad is passed out on the couch, the room reeking of hard liquor. I make a quick pass through the kitchen, a run to the bathroom, and then take the trash to the curb. Jackson is no longer parked outside. Hastily, I make my way over to the neighbor’s trash bin and hide a certain empty spice bottle with all the other garbage. Once back inside, I take a quick peek at Rome in his bedroom. He sleeps like a wild man, limbs everywhere. With the early dawn light peeking through the windows and shining on his face, he seems younger than eighteen. Innocent. The dark bruise on his cheekbone reminds me that he’s lived for far too long under the rule of a monster.
I make my way back to my room and write a couple of letters. My smile is genuine as I pen them.
I smile. The real one. The one no one sees but me.
And Courtney.
I also make sure to write Rome a sticky note poem that will give him the answers he needs—answers that no one else needs to find. The heavy weights that always seem to be dragging me down feel as though they’ve lifted.
Is this how a raven feels as it’s about to jump off the ledge and take flight?
Free.
Free.
Free.
I plug in my phone to my laptop and download my newest audio clip. From the moment I began to suspect Jackson was playing me, I started protecting myself. Every encounter with him was recorded. Every threat. Every touch. Every lie. All preserved in time in case I needed them later.
Now is later.
Once I make sure they’re saved, I clean the audio clips and videos off my phone and computer. I don’t want Jackson somehow getting ahold of this stuff. It’s safely sent to an email that only my brother will have access to. It will be his ammunition for when he needs to go to battle.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
You lose, Jackson.
As soon as I tuck my journal away under my mattress, I sit down on the edge of my bed. I pick up the bottle of prescription pills I’d been given when I fell at work and hurt my back. I’d only taken a couple out of the entire bottle. I have nearly thirty Oxycodone.
“This better work,” I mutter. My heart is pounding in my chest. Funny how the first time I feel truly alive is right before I die.
Alive. Alive. Alive.
With handfuls that make me gag, I chase the pills down with a bottle of Dad’s Jack. It takes several times before I get them all down. I feel like I might throw up, but that will ruin everything. I chug down as much as I can of the liquor without barfing. Daylight is creeping in and I have a niggle of worry that this won’t work. I’m supposed to work the late breakfast shift at the diner. If I don’t show up, someone will call looking for me.
I will be gone.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
Shuddering, I swallow down some more of the disgusting alcohol. My stomach roils, but I breathe deeply to keep it from expelling its contents. Before I lose my senses, I rip out a sheet of notebook paper from a notebook on my desk and scribble out a note.
Rome and Dad,
I’m sorry. I just can’t take this life anymore.
Love you always,
Raven
I gather my phone, the empty pill bottle, the near empty bottle of liquor, and my suicide note. Clumsily, I make my way into the bathroom without turning on the light. I yank the shower curtain open and sit down in the bathtub. The dark room spins and I close my eyes. My heart is racing, but my thoughts are murky.
Hurry.
Hurry.
I’m ready to fly.
I must pass out for a bit because I’m vaguely aware when bright light tries to infect my darkness. My eyes crack open and Rome sleepily makes his way over to the toilet. The sound of him peeing has me suddenly aware of what’s happening.
I’m slipping.
I’m not flying.
I’m falling.
Bringing my phone close to my face, I check the time. The room spins but when it stops, I find the last picture of Courtney that Whitney sent. I stare at her long blond hair. The slender curve of her neck.
I can’t breathe.
Oh, God.
When I suck in a gasp of air, Rome shouts at me. “What the fuck?”
Black. Black. Black.
Falling.
Falling.
Where’s the canoe?
Slap!
My eyes blink open and I’m staring in the mirror. Straight into the soul of my other half. Rome. My brother.
“What did you do?”
I try to smile, but I can’t.
A loud, ugly sob escapes me.
Rome’s not supposed to see me cry. I’m supposed to be brave for him.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
I’m crying.
He’s screaming for our dad and using my phone to dial someone. Then, he’s pulling me out of the tub and into his arms.
Courtney.
Go find Courtney.
Are the words leaving my mouth?
I whimper and stare at him helplessly.
Go, go, go.
But he stays.
His palms stroke my face as he cries. My tears fall in perfect harmony with his. We cry together, just like that first day when we left our mother’s womb.
I’m sorry, Rome.
God, this hurts.
It wasn’t supposed to hurt.
Where’s my canoe?
Mom?
Mom?
Black. Black. Black.
Slap!
“Stay with me!” he screams, slapping my face so hard I’m surprised my teeth don’t go flying out.
Black. Black. Black.
Mom?
Mommy?
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
I’m crying.
Where are you?
Mommy!
Slap!
“Raven, please,” my twin sobs. “Please stay with me.”
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
I’m crying.
Mommy!
I don’t smile. I don’t smile at all. Not for me. Not for him. Not for anyone.
Mommy!
Black. Black. Black.
I can’t breathe.
Oh, God.
Where’s my canoe?
“Shhhhhhh.”
Black. So much black.
Mommy!
“I’m here, baby.”
Mommy…
Sigh.
Where’s my canoe?
“This way.”
Sigh.
Black. Black. So white.
Sigh.
I smile.