"Does this darkness have a name? This cruelty, this hatred. How did it find us? Did it steal into our lives or did we seek it out and embrace it? What happened to us? That we now send our children into the world like we send our young men into war, hoping for their safe return. But knowing that some will be lost along the way. When did we lose our way? Consumed by the shadows, swallowed whole by the darkness. Does this darkness have a name? Is it your name?" – Lucas Scott.

Numb. That was the only way to describe how I felt when the doctor said the same three words he said six years prior. "Time of death…"

That was all it took to rip away every ounce of strength I had. I crumbled into my brother's chest, though the tears never came. Shaken and confused, he led me from the cold, off white room, out into the parking lot, where he completely broke down.

The strong, independent brother, who always had my best interests in mind, couldn't hold back the pain of losing both parents any longer.

"I'm so sorry, Harleigh," he whispered, pulling me in for a hug.

I couldn't say anything. There aren't words to describe the emotions you go through when you're faced the death of a parent, much less two.


Weeks passed in a blur and soon I found myself failing English. As kind as Haley was, she couldn't pass me just to keep me on the basketball team.

"I think you should talk to Lucas," she said as I was passing her on my way to practice. As of late, that was all I could focus on. Basketball and Scott.

"Sure," I muttered, pushing past her.

"You'll be off the team if you flunk out," Haley reminded me, not at all subtle about her approach.

I turned on my heel, my heart breaking as I said the words I'd been aching to say since my mother's funeral.

"I don't care anymore!"


"Scott, please!" I begged as he slammed me against the wall, his fist connecting with my face.

"That's for costing us the game!" he shouted, pushing me as hard as he could. He threw me against the floor, not caring when my head hit the hardwood. "And this is for telling Haley I 'rough you up'!" He kicked me as hard as he could. I choked back blood as his foot connected with my ribs again. Pain flew up my side, causing me to kick out. He seemed to forget I was half his size at that point.

He would have killed me, had it not been for Nathan, who plowed through the front door just as Scott's foot connected with my side again.

"What the hell man!" Nathan exclaimed, throwing Scott away from me. Scott glared at me but said nothing as he stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind me.

I spit. I felt like absolute shit, but for once in my life, I was grateful for putting my trust in my teacher. Leave it to Haley to send my idol to rescue me. It would have been a dream come true, had I not been curled in a ball, soaked in my own blood.


Months passed. It seemed unbelievable that I was still alive. It was the last practice before the championship, two years after I originally joined the team. Two years since my mother died. Two years since Haley, Lucas, and Nathan all helped me put Scott, my abusive, overly controlling, violently ex-boyfriend in jail, where he would rot for the next five years. Two years since my brother's first album got signed, with the help of Peyton. Two years since I promised myself, and my team, that I would never, ever, let another man treat me like Scott did.

It was because of the Tree Hill Ravens that I was still alive.

"Do you have your speech written?" Janice asked as she ran up to me, throwing her arms around my neck. I chuckled, hugging her back.

"Yeah," I said softly, nodding into her hair. "Are you excited?"

"Are you kidding me? The Ravens are going to the championship, the squad's going to Nationals, and you're graduating first in our class! Harleigh, it's a dream come true!" she raved.

"For you," I sighed, looking over at the line of jerseys on the wall. "Not for me."

"Why not?" she asked. Then her smile faded. "Oh, god, I'm sorry Harleigh, I wasn't thinking…"

"It's okay, it's not that," I sighed, looking at my bag. I pulled out my tattered, torn journal. "Remember when my dad died, my mom told me to find something to hold onto, whether it be a quote or a lyric or basketball?"

"Of course! You ended up spending the next three years searching for something to hold onto!" she said.

"Right. You want to know what my something was?"

"What?" she asked, her eyes dancing with something I couldn't quite place.

"And in that moment he realized it's not what you are or who you are, but who they allow you to be," I recited. "It was my favorite quote."

"An Unkindness of Ravens, right?" she said, her smile widening. "Harleigh, you've been in love with the story since the moment you first picked it up!"

"No," I said, my eyes falling onto the basketball hoop. "I've been in love with the truth, the passion, the way it was put together, as if it never really could have happened, in spite of us knowing it had."

"Admit it, basketball's not your first dream," she said, her tone suddenly serious.

"What?" I asked, looking at her with a surprised look. How could basketball not be my first dream? I'd been playing since I was younger than Nathan's son, and haven't stopped since. I could shoot a basket before I could ride a bike.

"She watched as the ball soared into the basket, her heart in her throat. She knew it was the only chance she'd ever get to shoot in the same gym her father once dominated, the same gym her idol played in. She knew, deep in her heart, that here, in this gym, all her dreams could come true, if only she'd allow herself to believe. As cheers rang from wall to wall, her eyes scanned the crowd, waiting for the moment. Waiting for the moment that would never come. But she could feel it. The warmth of their presence filled her chest as she looked up at the basket. A basket that she had so many times before dreamt of. With a smile on her face, she dared to admit, that she finally found her place. She didn't run with the wolves or swim with the fish. No. She flew with the ravens. Across the clear, blue sky."

"You read my blog?" I yelped. It had been an article I had written for a contest with a few of my out of state friends.

"You spent the last four years trying to be what your father wanted you to be," Janice said, her eyes locked on mine. "But in reality, it was never Nathan Scott that you idolized. It was Lucas. Admit it, Harleigh, you're an author in heart, mind and spirit."

"Maybe…" I let the conversation drop.


A/n - The last part will be uploaded shortly. :) It's only three chapters long, because really, it was just a little thing that came to mind at work, like I said. Nothing special. ;)