A breathy sigh leaves her lips, then she lights the candle that is planted inside of the cake.
The pastry was a mini chocolate mousse cake with four strawberries surrounding the candle. She curled a few purple birthday ribbons with a pair of scissors, then placed the strips around the dish.
Raven liked to indulge in her sweet tooth every now and then. Her demonic heritage was odd enough, and a crippling need for sweets was one of her weaknesses. Even so, Raven liked things simple, so she never went over the top with her treats.
A cool draft slips through the open window of the kitchen. She sits at the kitchen island, her back in a slight hunch. The candlelight grew, accenting the lamplight, which made the silhouettes of night bounce and retract.
Even though Raven had lived nineteen years, one candle was all she had in the cake.
Raven was mainly adverse to the idea of her birthday. Now, it wasn't simply because the joyful, celebratory emotions were awkward for her to deal with— they were painful.
Ever since she was a young child, the meaning of birthdays were already erased from her mind, in fact, they were never there.
Each year, the girl had another dark prophecy or heavier pain to deal with. She never enjoyed these anniversaries. The power to immobilize time was something she only used once. She activated it for the first time on her birthday before the world ended.
If she had the power to skip over her birthday, she would use it.
After all, what was she celebrating?
Raven was always living in constant fear.
Everyday, especially on her birthdays, she had to be self-conscious of her father using her as a portal; in the event that he wanted to reattempt his once failed trial to rule the world.
She always had these dark, pressing feelings crushing her mind and soul. A new year, the same struggle, the same struggle, with an even worse pain.
At times, Raven simply wished to cease to exist.
Being reminded that she was born, made her grieve.
It made her mourn the fact that she was here, after causing destruction to multiple planets and realms. Her very birth was what made Azarath fall. A land that was once peaceful and perfect, was ruined because she was conceived.
Her birth caused disharmony and angst among her people, she managed to severe ties that would never be mended again.
When Raven's mother, Arella, knew what was to be of her child, Arella was bent on suicide. Then, when Raven came to earth, she nearly endangered the first and only friends she had.
Raven never wanted it to happen this way, but it did. It had to.
All because of the dark, demonic blood that coursed through her veins.
However, at age nineteen, Raven finally decided to have her first birthday.
She may not have had a family or group of friends to celebrate with her at the moment, but she had herself.
Especially after her quite-prophesying birthday a few years back, her friends always made sure to have something special for her on this occasion. Raven insisted that she spent this birthday alone, not because of her friends, but because of a personal matter.
Raven had to celebrate how far she had come since the day she entered the universe. She could have given up on any of the three hundred and sixty five days the years granted her, but she didn't.
She could have easily chosen the easy way out: yielding to her dark side and allying with her father, in the hopes that the mental torment would cease. Additionally, she could have done what her mother didn't, and just cut her life short.
Today, Raven preferred to honor her resilience and hope, and all of those other positive qualities that were birthed from pure darkness.
The flame reflects a shaft of light into her mysterious, dark violet pupils.
The light wavered against the pressure of the night's winds.
A salted, warm tear grew in her eye, streamed down her cheek, and stroked the corner of her lip. One tear became many. By instinct, she would rush her sleeve to her face to dry the tears, but she let them flow.
Raven allowed the warmth to thaw away at her pains and traumas that she had persisted, and all of the ideas she had that opposed life and joy.
The candle burned against her soul, to remind her that she was here.
A bittersweet sting, it hurt her so much it enlivened her, but it healed all of the sufferings she suppressed. The scent made her recall the feverish, merciless fires of hell; the ones she once plodded upon, the ones that thrived in her mind.
That vicious, seemingly endless hell she's been in for almost two decades, was triggered by the candle.
She reasoned on wishes.
Raven wasn't one to believe in luck or superstitions, she let life go as it came.
All that she could have wished for had a chance of happening, or not happening at all. Again, her tongue was powerful. She had the ability to utter a mantra or incantation, and the possibility of widespread destruction or disorientation was sure to transpire. Her desires could also fall void; her wishes to "be normal" failed to come true.
So, she blew out the candle.
"Happy Birthday, to me." she rasps.
A dull, hesitant smile etches on her face as her tears refuse to dry.
The cold reality hugged her once again.
Raven has had birthdays, but they were never happy.