Living With Consequence
I never realized how much of a modern palace my house was before. I stared up at the elaborate structure, shocked at how it had once been normal for me to live inside of it. How long has it been since I've lived where a "room" was really a personal suite? Seven, eight months?
It felt like years.
It was amazing how foreign this lifestyle felt to me. How it was hard to remember there were people to bring my bag in. How a ten car garage was the smallest one we had. I looked around at the manicured lawn and garden, at the lavish house with Victorian style doors that acted as a gate to the inside. I felt like I was in a daze as my mom led me inside and up the stairs to a door that I have forgotten was mine.
The room was grand as I spotted the sitting area that invited you further into the room, where you see a gigantic bedroom that was more spacious than I remember, and had it's own personal balcony. I knew that if you walked along it, you would be led into a small personal library that was tucked away and was an alternate entrance to the walk-in closet.
I stepped inside my room and paused. There was something about the room that felt more like a stranger's than mine. But there was a familiarity to it as I stepped inside and placed my bag on the bed. I took out my clothes, noticing how they contradicted with the soft silk and expensive cottons around me. I looked to the side of the dresser to where the door to the walk-in closet was. I abandoned my bags as I went inside.
I flicked on the lights, illuminating a piece of my past. As I looked around, I knew there was not a shred of cloth inside that was less than two hundred dollars. I touched a pair of jeans, ran my fingers over a couple tops, and paused. What was the last thing I wore from this closet? I thought back and realized it was the leather jacket that I wore when I first got to Gotham. I stopped wearing it when Karen arrived in Gotham and let me borrow hers when I went ice driving with her. I sighed. So long ago…
I stepped back out to my room where my suitcases waited for me to empty. I passed them and exited the room, feeling the familiar weight of the air as I walked through the house again. Some of the workers paused to look at me briefly before returning back to what they were doing. I vaguely wondered about where Glenn was. We lost contact after a couple months. By then I was so wrapped up with Northside that my old life got pushed aside.
As I stepped inside the garage that had all the cars I actually bought, I realized how cold I felt. There were goose bumps on my arms and I could barely felt the tips of my fingers. But I knew that it was at least 80 degrees outside and we always kept the garage around 75, so I knew it wasn't the air. I touched the hood of the Ferrari in front of me. It was the one I sped to the airport with the day I left. Before any trace of this mess could even happen.
I stepped back from the car and went back into the house, trying not to think about the beginning that would always lead to the same end. I looked through the rest of the house, reminding myself of my old life. I thought about the luxury of everything, not the many price tags I had to pay for it. Through out my self made tour, a familiar air wrapped itself around me. I couldn't tell what it was though. And as I walked further into the house, it started to annoy me.
Just as my frustration was hitting its peak, my fingers brushed against a wooden door. I stopped and stared at it. It was so different from all the other doors in house. There was no decorations or ornate carving. It was just a plain wooden door. Now most people would look at it and think it was a closet. Nothing major, just a place where the maids put their brooms.
However, I knew just by looking at it, it wasn't a closet. It was a tiny room (well tiny compared to the rest of the house…mansion). In the room, instead of a bed, there was a window seat. There was a mirror that turned into a TV, a couple of kitchen appliances with a refrigerator filled with food, and a small bathroom to match the room. I also knew that it only opened room the outside so once you got in-or thrown in-you couldn't out.
I twisted the doorknob and opened the door. I took off one the fancy bracelets from my wrist to stop the door from completely closing. The light from the hallway and window were the only light in the room. I didn't turn any on as the air from earlier weighted down on me into a familiar annoyance. It drummed against my skin, pushing against me, begging me to recognize what it was.
Remember…remember…it felt like the walls echoed the words and through it's urgency, I did remember. I remembered as I sat down on the window seal my old anger. The anger that made me want to lash out at my dad and the guards in the house. Then came the resentment that I felt towards my dad, my mom…I shook my head as I remembered the pain.
Every ounce of pain I felt from this house. From all the emotional anger to every physical blow that I've felt. Every memory of pain crashed over me, suddenly overwhelming me. And I could feel each and every one no matter how much I wanted it to go away…. and how it all seemed to lead back to this room.
And I finally recognized it. It was something so obvious that I almost slapped myself from not knowing. It's funny how my old prison reminded me. But then again, is it really a big surprise?
The "air" I kept feeling, was just the house saying what it's always told me when I came back to it.
Welcome home, it said, welcome home.
"Do you hate me?" I asked my mom. We were drinking some honey tea my mom made to try and make me feel more comfortable to be back "home."
To my surprise, she wasn't surprised by the question. She was as calm as ever. Nothing in my mom's face changed. For a moment, I wondered if I actually asked the question.
"No." she said with a shrug.
"You're disappointed." My mom smiled bitterly.
"I saw it coming, which is why I didn't want you going up there." She told me. She looked me straight in the eye with a grave resolve. "It's not a good situation, Raven. At all." I leaned forward, feeling suddenly alarmed.
"What is it?" I asked her, my voice instinctively lowering. She looked at me with dread and I got a glimpse into my mom's true feelings. I've always compared my mom to a president's wife. Even when everything was going wrong, she looked put together, standing strong at her husband's side. But I didn't see the image my mother had been keeping so long. I saw a woman who was scared of the future of her daughter.
"Remember when you were in the hospital and your father rarely came in?" I nodded. "Why do you think that was?"
"I thought it was because he didn't want to see me. I thought he was angry at me, you know, for scarring the family name and all that." I told her, slightly thrown by the question. My heart picked up at the sadistic chuckle my mom made, looking out the window.
"If only it were that simple." She said in a strange, regretful tone that I never heard before. She turned her gaze back to me, the intensity of it almost like daggers.
"You got yourself in a lot of trouble this time, Raven." She said gravely. "At first, it wasn't a big deal, a couple of kids in the wrong place at the wrong time. Then they saw the schools the two kids went to. Northside and Southside…two rivals which were having some kind of gang battle that particular night. Actually, not too far from where the two were shot. They began looking deeper and deeper.
"That's when the FBI started getting involved. They started looking at whom you both would know, whom you would both associate with. The FBI looked at your uncle, since he was your caregiver, started question him about anything suspicious. Of course he didn't know anything so they dismissed him in any involvement." I sighed in relief but I paused at my mom's eyes kept their grave look. "Don't relax just yet." She told me before continuing.
"It was then the police started looking at the people who were members of your uncle's gym." I tensed, having a feeling of where this was going. "When they found out you friend, Vic, died here a couple of months ago, everything spiraled down. They found footage of the gangs down here from highway cameras. They also got footage of you and Vic getting into a fight at the gym. Along with all the other evidence of you being in the actual gang and the connection between Vic and…" I tensed as I prepared for her to say his name. But she just shook her head as tears gathered in her eyes. She sighed before meeting my eyes again. "They're trying to pin the murder on you."
I froze, my blood going cold as I tried to process this. The FBI is going to say that Vic's death was my fault?
"What?" I exclaimed, my heart beating wildly in my chest. "But I didn't do it! The guy that killed him is dead! You have to believe me. I know I lied about everything but I didn't kill him, mom!" I told her desperately.
"I know you didn't." My mom said sternly. "I may not know everything you do but you are not a killer." She reassured me before giving me a panicked look. "But the police don't see it that way. I could scream that they're wrong all day but they won't trust my word. What mother would say their daughter's a killer? Plus, they've been looking for a way to get to your father for years."
"What?" I said thrown by her answer. I always thought the police were after my father for something but to have it confirmed was shocking. My mom sighed before glaring past me.
"Though I love your father, he was never perfect. He never wanted to follow the rules and that would get him in trouble. Sometimes more than others. He's been running away from them for years and with this, they finally found a way to catch up to him.
"They were constantly pulling him out to the station while you healed, since he refused for them to see you. He would be gone for hours every since day. He wanted us to come back home so that he could handle it from here-"
"Where he could handle it better." I finished for her. She nodded. I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers against my temple as I tried to process how all this could happen. "So what's dad doing now?"
"He said he's finding a way to fix it." My mom said. My eyes snapped open to look at her. She was looking out the window once again.
"What does that mean?" I asked. She sighed once more and picked up her tea, taking a sip. She finally looked back at me, looking like the president's wife once again, calm and cool.
Everything put together.
"I don't know." She said. "And that's what scares me the most."
Weeks passed.
I noticed the days changing but they all seemed to blend together until they became the same. I woke up and it was sunny outside. I got dressed and ate in my suite. Glenn would come in and say hello. "Make sure I wasn't too quiet." She would tell me. I answer any question she asked, comment when expected but each day the question seemed the same. I could feel Glenn struggling with the tension in the room as my words started become fewer and farther in between. Her concern grew but I brushed it off.
In the afternoon, after the therapist visited and I had quiet tea with my mom, I would wander around the house. Sometimes, I would go to the library, other days I would sit by the pool. Yet more often then not, I would in up in the garden. My mother's garden was a huge maze with tall walls of green and bright flowers. Hundreds of exotic flowers grew here and now that it was nearing the end of spring, they were all in full bloom. There was the occasional clearing with a mid-sized tree in the middle with a bench under it, where you could sit if you wanted to rest under some shade. I remember feeling like Alice in Wonderland when I went there as a child. It was so easy to get lost in all its beauty.
Which was exactly what I tried to do.
Everyday I would start at the same point, the garden's entrance, and I would run. I wouldn't think about where I was really going. I just ran, so fast that I wouldn't let myself recognize the flowers or paths around me. Whenever I started to think, I would speed up until all the colors blurred around me. I ran until I couldn't run anymore. Then I would fall wherever I was and just lay there. I would stare up at the sky, not bothered by anything else.
It was there, on the ground, that I would allow myself to think and wonder about Robin. How was his therapy going? Was he stabilized? Did he relapse? Was he bored? Did they release him to go home? If so, what was he doing? What was he watching on TV? What was Alfred making him?
Sometimes I would laugh, thinking of some of the things I thought he would be doing. Most days I cried silently, letting my tears disappear into the soil under me. Sometimes I would think about other people-Justin, Roy, and Karen-but they would always lead back to Robin somehow. And each time it was more painful than the last but I welcomed it with opened arms. It was the only thing that I could feel and I was tired of being numb all the time. Thinking of him, helped remind me that yes, I am alive.
Yes, this is all real. It's all real…
When the last rays of sunshine finally started to fade, I would force myself to stand up and find the exit back to the house. I would eat a silent dinner with my parents before trudging my tired body up to my room to get ready for bed. I would reheat some of the tea that my mother made earlier and would sit outside on my balcony, staring up the sky, too tired to think but too afraid to sleep. When my eyes could barely stay opened, I forced myself to my bed, where my daily nightmares plagued me until the sun woke me once again.
Then the change happened.
Its start was small. Nothing more than a plain white envelope on my bedside table. I noticed when I walked in my room to change into something more comfortable before I started running through the garden. I looked at carefully. It was plain except for the hand written addresses written on the front. I picked up and a rectangle package under it. I raised an eye as I opened the letter and read.
Dear Raven,
I hope you are feeling better. Your mom says that you did really well in physical therapy and that you are feeling a lot better. I'm not exactly sure what "better" is but I'm sure it's a lot better than before.
I know you think that your uncle and I are very disappointed in you because of your decisions. We were but as time as passed, we've realized that you have also matured and become a wonderful person, in the process. You may not realize that amazing changes you have gone through the few months that you were here but we do. I do.
And we are so proud of you. Despite the mistakes, I will always be proud of all the accomplishments you have made. Don't forget that.
I love you and I hope you get well soon.
Love,
Aunnie
P.S. here's something to make you a little closer to "better."
I closed the letter with a heavy heart. Of course Aunnie would be the one to go out her way to make me feel better no matter how much I don't deserve it. I eyed the package carefully. Something told me that despite Aunnie's words, it would only make me feel worst. But another part of me was too curious to let it sit there or throw it away. So with a deep sigh, I grabbed the box and opened it. And I was surprised.
Pictures. Lots and lots of picture were wrapped in rubber bands. I took out a stack. The first one I looked at was an older picture, bent a little bit around the corners but in pretty good shape. I looked at it carefully as I saw a little girl, maybe around eight in a school uniform standing next to some Christmas decorations. She was pretty and looked sweet but there something off about her smile. It wasn't exactly fake but it wasn't real either. It was…painful. That's probably the best way to describe it. It was something easily missed, but definitely defining of this little, tiny girl.
And then I realized it was me.
Then I remembered that this was when we first became rich and my dad had enrolled me into this prestigious elementary school. I didn't know it was a boarding school until my parents dropped me off with a suitcase. I remember my dad bending down on his knee and saying, "Be good. Remember all we've taught you and don't forget to have fun but just a little." I giggled at that and so did he. Then he tapped my nose, he and mom told me they loved me, and left.
And I was good. I did well in classes, respected the teachers, and was nice to the other kids. Problem was, it was the other away around. The kids teased me and made sure that I was alone all the time because I was such "such a nerd with ugly clothes." All I wanted to do was run back to my mom. But she was gone and so was dad so I just had to endure.
I was happy when Uncle Mike said I could visit them for Christmas. Unfortunately, my parents, who I thought were going to be there, didn't show up. They would show up until the day after Christmas. When I found out the news, I didn't cry. If nothing else, that elementary school taught me I couldn't cry over everything. Later that day, they took this picture and, though I didn't realize it at the time, that was when I started to really resent-if not hate-my parents.
As I flipped trough the more of the pictures, I saw me as I grew up through the eyes of my aunt and uncle. I went from the tiny, cute kid to the awkward preteen to the "beauty" I am now. The transformations were there. Looking back, they were almost drastic but in every picture, real smile or not, whether or not it was a holiday, good news or bad news, one feature stayed the same. The pain in the eyes. It was in every single picture. I almost wanted to rip them up because I was so tired of seeing it. Finally I came to the last two stacks.
I looked at the stack when I was older first. I recognized it as the last year when I stayed there. At first, it was the usual in pained eyes and fake smile. But as I flipped through them, it started to change. I started to change. My eyes became softer, my face more relaxed in general. In a way I looked a little healthier because of it. There were pictures where there was pain in my eyes-when Vic died, when I broke up with Robin-but there were pictures where I would smile and be genuinely…happy.
I looked through the last stack and couldn't help but smile. It was pictures of me from a baby to a toddler. I was smiling and laughing as my mom chased me around in the old house we had. I was mesmerized at how tiny I was and how young my mom looked. It never really hit me how beautiful my mom. I knew she was pretty, but to me she was just my mom. It was just how she looked. But looking at these pictures, it was easy to see why my dad would fall in love with her. She was passionate and affection in these pictures. Her smile was easy and she had this kind of glow. She was so full of…life. And she was beautiful because of it.
So imagine my surprise when I saw the same glow in my dad. When I first saw him holding me in one of the pictures, I almost couldn't recognize him. I couldn't see the father that I knew now as he sat me on his shoulders, tied my shoes, laughed with my mom…he was the dad I use to know. I felt myself feeling a foreign emotion as I looked at these pictures. I paused at the last two pictures.
The first one was a picture of all of us. I was toddler and my mom was lying the floor beside me playing with me while holding me. My dad was holding both of us and we were all smiling. My heart warmed a bit at the thought that, yes, there was a time when we were all happy. The next one made me freeze.
Only my mom and dad were in it. It was a close up of their faces. They were staring at each other with their faces close to each other's, so close that you knew that the next picture would be of them either kissing or jumping back because they didn't expect the camera flash. The way they looked at each other was so strange. Not strange because it was strange. No, it was strange because…I knew that look. The same small, knowing smiles on their faces, their eyes gleamed with so much love, the intense but subtle connection…it reminded me of Robin and me.
I dropped the picture so quickly when the thought came to my mind. It landed upside down, to my relief. I looked though the rest of the package, hoping for an distraction. I pulled out two things: a DVD and my high school diploma. I looked over the diploma for a quick moment before moving on to the DVD, making a mental note to give the diploma to my mom a little later.
There was a note attached to the DVD that said: Couldn't resist. Me and the twins miss you. Hope to see you soon.
–Justin
I looked at the cover and couldn't help the chuckle that escaped me. It was Pocahontas.
I sighed as I thought about my cousins. I wondered how the twins were doing. I think their birthday passed but I don't know. I shook my head out the thoughts before I missed them too much. I walked over to my DVD player and put the movie. I settled onto the end of my bed as it played. As first, I was fine. It was a kiddy movie that I liked. I didn't feel anything towards it as something entertaining to do beside what I've been doing for the past few weeks.
Then John Smith saw Pocahontas. Something clenched in my chest as I watched that scene. An old memory played in my mind.
I couldn't look away from him. It was too impossible. Everything disappears when he looked at me. I couldn't help but smile back. I forgot where I was or how long when were starring at each other. Then, literally, with a blink of an eye he was gone.
I forced myself to pay attention to the movie, to not remember. But the movie continued and every scene they were together would remind me and I would slip into another memory. When they talked for the first time, it reminded me of the first I ran into Robin after I saw him. "Colors of the Winds" reminded me of the first few weeks we really got to know each other. When John Smith first snuck out to see Pocahontas, it made me think of every time Robin came to our clearing. Their first kiss…I found myself sighing as every kiss we've ever had.
Then of course when John Smith was shot reminded me of my nightmares and by the time they got to their final goodbye I was in tears without even realizing it. I just kept staring until I felt something hot and wet running down the side of my face. I wiped my face and finally felt sobs racking my whole body, as if all the pain inside was threatening to rip me apart as reality came crashing down on me.
I could look at a hundred pictures for a thousand hours but it's won't change anything. It won't change what I've done, who I've hurt because of what I did. Those happy moments are nothing more than pictures, something that never last for more than a moment. I was happy then but that's not my reality. It's not the truth.
It's not real anymore.
The next night, I was eating dinner with my parents. It was quiet as usual. No one talked except for the occasional comment here and there. I was staring at my food, my thoughts wandering back to Gotham and how dinner was never quiet. There was always talk, the food was rarely fancy, and even on a bad day there was a laugh or two.
I held back a sigh as I came back to the present. I heard my dad clear his throat and I lifted my head to look at him. My mom did that same. He looked at both of us uneasily.
"I have some bad news." He said. I tensed immediately. My mom looked at me quickly before turning her attention back to him.
"What is it?" My mom asked, breaking the tense silence. My father sighed.
"X is coming back." He told us. Everything froze for a moment. The tension in the room soared to the highest level in the house, like newly spun, fragile glass.
It was my mom again who broke it.
"WHAT?" She exclaimed, shocked. "I…I don't understand. I thought he had a life sentence or at least 20 more years!"
"Good behavior." He said. "And good connections, which equals early release."
"Even so, why is he coming back here?" She asked. My dad opened his mouth as if to explain but he remained speechless. She narrowed her eyes before standing up slowly. "Why is he coming back here?" she repeated, her anger and confusion making her voice tremble a bit. My father sighed.
"The contract is still valid, therefore…technically, him and Raven are still engaged." He finally admitted. I felt my heart paused in my chest before breaking into a sprint.
"How is that possible?" My mom yelled. "You were supposed to take care of that years ago."
"Well if nothing else, my parents were great at making contracts." My dad answered bitterly. "It was iron clad. There was no way I could break it. Every lawyer that looked over it said the same thing." My dad looked at her guilty. "If they don't get married, then we loose everything."
"And it never crossed your mind to tell me this!" My mom yelled enraged.
"I've tried to-"
"When?"
"-It was never the right time. It would've been too late when X was suppose to get out so I didn't worry about it-"
"You are unbelievable! After everything that happened you still don't know how to clean up your messes!"
"My messes?"
"Yes, your messes! You never-"
"Never what? Provided for my family? Gave you everything you wanted? I was only trying to protect you-"
"And looked what happened! You're always trying to 'protect me.' Well guess what, your 'protection' isn't working!"
"You know what? I've worked too hard to listen to crap like this-"
"What, you can't handle the truth?"
"I've been handling it for years!"
"Liar!"
"No." My parents paused at my voice. My father looked at me.
"What?" He asked sharply. I didn't feel the sting of it.
"No," I repeated. "I am not marrying X. If they want to take everything, they can have it but I refuse to marry X." I said in a steady, calm voice. My father narrowed his eyes at me. He stepped away from my mother towards me.
"Excuse me?" He said. "You spoke but I possibly couldn't have heard you right."
"I said no-"
"You will marry him." He said with finality. I felt rage rush through my veins. "I will not let you bring this family down because of your selfishness. Not again."
"My selfishness or your greed?" I asked him with a glare. "Either way the answer is still no." I pushed my chair back, about to walk out when he grabbed me painfully but my wounded arm.
"Trent!" My mom exclaimed but he didn't pay attention to her.
"If you think that I am loosing everything for you, all my work, everything I own, you are sadly mistaken." He told me, while shaking me, pressing painfully into he gun wound. I struggled against his hold
"Get off of me-"
"You will marry X!"
"Or what? You have nothing on me!" I yelled, finally ripping free of his grasp. He raised his eyebrow at me.
"Oh, I have nothing on you?" He clasped his hands and I tensed. He only did that when he knew he had you trapped. "What about the drag races? The garage 50 miles south of Los Angeles harboring every car you've stolen from here to Switzerland, that is worth at least 50 million dollars? I couldn't possibly know about your grand theft auto record or the million speeding tickets that comes along with it. And I couldn't possibly know about the mysterious, murderous boyfriend either. The heir of Carson Industries…I must say, you do aim high." I looked over at my mom. She stared at me with disbelief at my dad's revelations.
"If you don't go through with this," he continued, bringing my attention back to him, "I will bring them all down. I'll give the address and names straight to the police and have each and every one in that damned crew locked up. Karen would easily get 10-15 years. The little Mexican twins will be deported. As for Roy and Robin-" I flinched at how my father said Robin's name, like poison. "-Well…you'll be luck if they escape death row." My eyes widened.
"What are you talking about? There's no way you could do that…"
"I'm perfectly capable of doing just that. It would be very easy to frame this whole murder mystery on Robin, considering he did kill one of them already. Despite my bad record with the police, I can pull a couple of strings. Oh and Roy would be too easy. This would be his third strike, wouldn't it? With the grand theft auto and maybe pull in a couple smaller crimes over the years," He shrugged as I looked at him in horror. "We're talking at least a life sentence." I shook my head.
"You can not do this!" I yelled. I launched myself at him without realizing it. It didn't matter as he easily caught me by the throat. He tightened his hold, lifting me off the ground. I struggled to breath, blacking lining my vision as he cut off my oxygen. After what seemed like years, he let me go and dropped to the ground, gasping for air. I could hear my mom yelling in the background but I was too busy staring up at the man I thought was once my father.
Now all I could see was someone else, not the dad I knew when I was young or even the one I knew a few months ago. This was someone new. Someone I couldn't recognize…a new monster I didn't see coming. I scrambled up from the floor and ran up to my room. I locked the door and collapsed on the ground as fear took over me.
X is back. I thought in terror. He's coming back for me. He's coming back…
Arella looked at her husband in horror as she watched her daughter run upstairs. She ran forward to try and catch her but Trent caught her instead.
"Just let her go." He said.
"That was not okay!" She said. Trent looked at her with nonchalance. Arella's anger flared as she pushed him off of her. "And I don't care what you say, he's not entering this house."
"Did you not here me?" Trent said exasperatedly. "We will loose everything!"
"Do you not remember what he did to our daughter?"
"He went to jail. He learned his lesson. He wouldn't test us twice, while he's living under our roof."
"He won't test us where we can see him. The second we turn our backs, he'll hurt and you know it-" Arella pause for a moment as she saw the cold, calculating look in Trent's eyes. Then it finally clicked. "And you want him to." She said incredulously.
"Arella, don't go there." He warned her.
"You want her to pay because she's affecting you money." She said, making sound more like a question, so deep in disbelief. Trent's eyes softened at her hurt expression. He reached out to touch her. She stepped back from him with an incredulous, vexed look. She narrowed her eyes before shaking her head. "Oh no, no, no. Don't think that you can give me that 'I'm sorry, I'll do be next time look.' It's not working." She started to walk pass him. He grabbed her arms. She pushed against his hold. "Get your hands off of me!"
"You don't understand-"
"What's to understand? You going to let someone who beat and almost raped our daughter come waltzing in like he runs the place and not say anything because of some grudge you have between her and your checkbook-"
"Damn it, Arella!" he yelled, letting her go all of a sudden. She stumbled a couple steps back. "When are you going to open your eyes?"
"He almost raped her-"
"Yes, he did! But you need to open your goddamn eyes and realize who your daughter is. She's not innocent, Arella! Not anymore!" Trent exclaimed. He took a couple of breaths to collect himself. "She's not who you think she is." Arella looked away with a wounded look. Trent stared at her for a moment before turning his back to her and heading upstairs to their bedroom. Before he could make it halfway up the stairs, she spoke.
"I guess that makes two of you." She said quietly but sharply. He paused for a moment before continuing up the stairs, never looking back at her.
Arella watched her husband leave and walked back to the dining room. She sat back down in her seat, looking back and forth between the empty seats. She sat there contemplating on what just happened. It almost seemed like a bad nightmare from years ago, already blurry and distant. But it just happened and she found out more than she really wanted to know. She realized that the two people she loved the most were also the ones she knew the least.
If their not who I think they are, she thought to herself, then who are they?
"Miss," Arella turned to Glenn who stood in the doorway. Arella sighed.
"Not now, Glenn. I don't think I can take anymore bad news."
"I'm sorry but it's urgent." Glenn told her. Arella felt an alarm go off inside her.
"What is it?" Glenn gave her a grave look.
"The police are here." She said. "They've come for Raven."
