Chapter Three: Lucid

Perspiration dripped down the side of my temple as my vision zeroed in on my objective. I was so close. If I made a proper move now, I had a good chance of getting out alive. If this fails, I'm done for. My eyes met my opponent's, narrowing as I licked my lips and made my move as fast as I could. I cursed under my breath and tightened my fists when it failed. My heart began to race and I looked up and down frantically. I couldn't move, this was it, he was going to win. I held my breath and waited for his response. My opponent smirked and tilted his head at me; he was prolonging the inevitable, maybe to give me the impression that I had a chance. But there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and I was out of options. He was coming after me, my own blood.

"Don't do this." I whispered.

My brother, Liam, rose his eyebrows, as his hazel brown eyes looked down upon me with false empathy. "B4."

My teeth grit together, "Sink." My palm slammed against the table, "I hate this stupid game! I know you cheated!" I growled. Liam drew his lower lip in between his teeth, holding back a snicker, when a security guard approached me and told me to keep it down or leave. I apologized and resumed my glare at Liam after the guard took his leave, "Shut up. This is your fault."

"How is it my fault?" Liam laughed, picking up all the pieces from the board game. " You just suck. You have horrible strategy. See, your problem is is that you always run head first into everything and don't think."

"Eat a dick Liam. I have strategy skills. I didn't even want to play Battleship." I huffed, reaching behind me to put on my camouflaged jacket.

The gray walls that surrounded the visitor's room dripped with dread. The atmosphere felt cold and bleak, despite the motive of this room to be a safe place for visitors to see their imprisoned loved ones. I could feel the ray of light shine on my arm through the only window in the room — probably the only window in the entire side of the building. However, even with that broad ray of sunshine, this wasn't a very joyous and heartfelt setting.

Liam cleared his throat, commenting on my outfit. "Where are you off to? A war?" I'm guessing that my expression revealed the confusion about his remark, because he began to explain what he meant by it. "Well, let's see. Not only are you wearing a camouflaged jacket, your hair is up in a ponytail, and your boots are ridiculous. I mean, they reach to your knees. What's the purpose of that?"

I could feel my cheeks threaten to turn crimson, but I withheld the influence, and replied, "If there's anyone who looks like they're going through a war, it's you." I leaned over the table and rested my chin on the palm of my hand. "Nice shiner you got there, Fight Club. How did you get that?" Liam's lips thinned and his eyes darted away. He was hoping I wouldn't notice, but how could I not?

The dark circles under his eyes was accompanied by a rather large black bruise that kissed his cheek bone, turning his skin surrounding it yellow. Before all of this, I used to constantly hear that Liam and I were spitting images of our parents. My brother gained the same gingered colored hair and strength from my dad, he could even grow a hefty beard like him. I was lucky enough to take after my mom in the waist size department; I may look slim, but strength is not out of the question. My hair was long, brown and straight like hers, but not so dark. There was still plenty of red swimming in these locks. The main difference we both share that sets us apart from our parents is our eyes; I take after our father's green eyes while my brother gains the hazel from our mother. Returning back to the present, Liam just doesn't look like himself anymore. Prison has not welcomed him well since he was admitted over a year ago. His once long and lively apricot colored hair that he usually wore in a pony tail, was now short and darkened with oil — how long has it been since he's showered? His eyes are now dark with apprehension, losing that spark that this family so proudly wears. He even looks like he's lost a good amount of weight.

"You know me," Liam shrugged. "Some asshole called me over to his cell for some 'company', and I told him I was too tired after screwing his mom."

A snicker escaped my lips, "Once a trouble maker, always a trouble maker, huh?"

"A true McKinley never holds back their thoughts. Even if the comment gets you punched repeatedly on the ground and toilet service for a week…" He trailed off. Liam's head visibly began to slowly turn away before he jerked back forward, sending his pointed finger at me. "Be smart and don't follow your big brother's footsteps."

"Like you're such a bad criminal. You got caught selling weed to an undercover cop. Great strategy skills there, by the way."

Liam's nostrils flared. "You're no perfect child either, princess. It must have felt great when mom picked you up from your sleepover at the sheriff's station. What did you do again? Tag the side of a building on a popular street in downtown Seattle. Don't talk to me about strategy."

My hands curled up into fists against the cold steel table. "Actually, it felt fucking great knowing that my little art project put mom in the situation that got her murdered."

Liam's eyes widened slightly, taken aback. "Rosy, no. We are not playing the game of which sibling has the worst sob story. What happened wasn't your fault."

"Pulling the trigger to the gun that pierced her head, no, that wasn't me. Leading her down 3rd Street because of a stupid fight, yeah, that's my fault."

"Rosy, you need to let i-"

"I saw her die, Liam." I said sternly. My voice was beginning to shake. "Before it even happened. I had a dream she died. Then, three nights later, guess what? She's dead." My head tilted slightly, causing my side bangs to fall slightly over my left eye. Out of tension and habit, my hand immediately swiped it back.

Liam took in a breath, "You did not legitimately see her die. You told me that all you saw was a gun, the woman who was being robbed, and the sound of a woman screaming. How the hell could you predict that mom, of all people, was the person catching a bullet?"

I crossed my arms and leaned back into my chair. "I'm clever, I should have put two and two together."

Before Liam could add on another objection, the clock began to rang and the security guard announced, "Okay, everybody. Visiting hours are over. Please quietly say goodbye to your loved ones and exit the building." As if in synchronization, all of the visitors I accompanied stood up to bid farewell. Liam and I were now the only two still remaining in our seats. There was a few seconds of silence between us as we both watched the other visitors hug and kiss their family members and friends. One by one, as they began to leave, I noticed tears streaming down many of their faces as they departed.

Liam scratched the back of his head nervously and directed his gaze at me. "Oh, come on. Don't let it end like this." I remained quiet, keeping my eyes on the others and off of Liam and the security guard ushering the people out. He sighed, "You're really going to make me get up first, aren't you? Fine." Liam pushed himself up from the table. His arms opened up as an invitation, but his expression revealed how irritated he is, being the first one to act sappy. I gave Liam a quick glance before mirroring his sigh in defeat. I stood up, and walked into his open arms.

"I love you, asshat." Liam mumbled.

"Love you too, shitface." I patted my brother's back, bidding him goodbye, just before leaving the visitors hall. I remember, not too long ago actually, dreading ever coming here. These hallways are haunted by the painful memories of my mother crying every time she saw him. I could remember seeing her tear up entering these halls to visit her baby boy who was locked up; and I could remember her leaving, furious, balling her eyes out from the shame and burden of what her son had become. After the incident on 3rd and Yesler, after my mom died, my brother and I have grown a lot closer. As much as I don't care to admit, I actually look forward to visiting him.

As I left the prison, I pulled out my phone and turned it back on. The screen lit up right away and was greeted by small droplets of water that fell flat onto it's surface. I pulled up my hood over my head, and slid my phone into my jacket's pocket to protect it from the rain. I walked through the thin layer of fog, feeling light rain prickle against my skin. When I reached my Jeep, I simultaneously pulled myself up into the driver's seat and retrieved my phone. I had about seven new texts messages; no, not from all different people, I'm not popular, remember? Most of them were from Ronnie and Parker trying to set up a day to go hiking, one from Lizzy asking if she could sleep over because her parents are out of town, and one from my dad telling me to get A&W on the way home before they closed. I replied to all of the messages and then drove off.

Not too many people can say that they like where they are living, especially if they're teenagers living in Washington. Most of my peers hate how cold and gloomy the weather constantly is, and many of them plan on going to school abroad; California Universities are usually the top pick. Personally, I love where I live. Maybe because it's all I know, since I've only traveled out of the state when I was a baby. There's just something comforting about the blanket of trees coating the landscape. I live in Lokni, Washington, the small town hidden between three forest mountains. The name Lokni means 'rain falling through a small crack in the roof', fitting perfectly with the location of my town. Not too many people know about our town, being as though every road to pass the mountains are tight canyons, so it's rare when we come across a tourist. Even though we have our own lake and creeks, tourists usually prefer the bigger cities that surround us.

I made my visit to A&W quick, luckily my dad and I usually get the same thing every time we go there. I juggled the food carefully as I made my way through the dimly lit parking lot, nearly spilling the root beer floats with each step. When the food was placed down on my seat, I wanted to pat myself on the back for not losing any of it before reaching my car. Now driving home without flinging the french fries all over the carpet, that was new goal. When I strapped the two meals down against the seat, I noticed something hiding under seat that glistened slightly against the indirect gleam from the street lights. My hand blindly reached under the seat and clutched onto something cold and metallic. It was Lizzy's lighter, I realized, when I pulled the object back out. She must have dropped it when I was dropping her off at home a few days ago. My fingers slid against the smooth red coating, turning the lighter around. I chuckled to myself, the lighter was modeled after a fire extinguisher. How ironic, but fitting, especially for someone like Lizzy.

A loud thump that came from within the dumpster near me caused me to flinch, allowing the lighter to slip from my hands. The red lighter slammed against the ground and rolled downwards towards to the dumpster until it was stopped by the wheels. I looked around the parking lot to see if there was anyone around who saw me jump before stepping forward to retrieve the lighter. As I approached the dumpster, I began to perceive the noise of nails scratching rapidly against the frame. I held my breath, and stopped, listening to the noise.

Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch.

Scratch, scratch.

...

Sccrraaattttcc- scratch, scratch, scratch.

My boots scraped against the gravel as I walked over to the dumpster. The dumpster was old, rusty, had swarms of flies buzzing around it, and overall just smelled foul. Actually, it smelled worse than foul. It smelled worse than any kind of smell old, moldy food could expel. The smell that protrude from the trash was nauseating, burning my nostrils with each breath I took. At that moment is when I noticed the faint drips of blood leading down from the cover. Something's not right. My fingers slid underneath the edge of the dumpster lid. When I lifted the cover, my vision was taken over by the color black. Frantic wings flapped against my face, forcing a gasp to escape my lungs. My body jumped back, allowing a Raven to fly into the dark cloudy night.

I took a step back forward and grit my teeth together, "You fucking shit sack of wings-" I hurled over and gagged as the stench rose from it's contents. The smell hit me like a fucking truck. My fingers squeezed my nose together as I reached over for the cover. I visibly gagged once more when my eyes laid upon what was inside, slamming the cover shut. At the bottom of the barrel, lay dead a half-eaten Raven. The decomposing Raven remained twisted in a position as if it was trying to fight. It's face was mauled and one eyeball was poking out of it's socket slightly. The worst part, was the maggots that inhabited the remaining flesh of the bird's abdomen. I quickly grabbed the lighter and started my way back to the Jeep, turning my head back to the dumpster.

"It's a trash can, stop staring at it like it's going to lunge out at you."

My feet stopped abruptly, snapping my attention forward. A woman who looked about my age stood casually next to my car. She wore a dark crimson hoodie that shielded her face along with old ragged jeans. Underneath her hood, I could see messy peach colored hair that hung just above her shoulders. Her hair was in desperate need of a combing. I was just about to play off this woman as a random civilian, a bystander, before she pulled her hood off. The woman's face was pale with dark circles under her blank eyes, she looked sick and– oh my God.

"Jenny."

My old friend smiled weakly, "I know it's a bit cliche to say, but you look like you've just seen a ghost."

I feel like I'm staring at one right now. "There was- uh. This R...Raven in the trash- dumpster. And uh….you know what? Nevermind." Jenny looked a bit tired– no, exhausted. I could tell it's been days since she's had a proper night of sleep. Maybe even a proper meal, too. Her jaw line used to be round with an undefined chin; now her face looked thin and sharp to the point. Those blue eyes filled with fire and confidence had faded into a gray blank stare. Jenny didn't just look depressed, she looked sick. I softened my expression. "You look good."

"Don't lie. I know I don't look my best."

"I didn't lie."

Jenny raised her unmaintained eyebrows at me, "You bite your lips a lot when you lie." I didn't even realize that I was doing that. It shouldn't surprise me though, we've known each other since kindergarden. "Anyways, my life has just become a shit storm. I can't sleep, I don't have any kind of enthusiasm for anything anymore. I just keep making really fucked up decisions. I feel like I'm losing myself." She paused, looking me over. I noticed something flashed in her eyes, reminiscence, maybe? "But you can probably tell just by looking at me. Which is why I was looking into some outside help….from someone I can trust, you know?"

My eyes widened in surprise. It's been over a year since we've had a conversation without arguing. My mind can't help but wonder what possessed her to come to me for help. "I'm sorry, but why now? And how did you even find me."

Jenny snorted, "Don't flatter yourself, honey. I was planning on calling you sometime soon and I just so happened to come here to eat. And what does it matter why I ask now? If you don't want to help me, fine. I'll take care of myself." She turned to walk away. "Just like I've always done."

I grabbed her arm, slightly shocked at how cold to the touch she felt, and said, "I never said I wouldn't help you. I just…" And that's when I realized it. It wasn't because she truly missed me, or needed my help specifically. No, it was the same old ulterior motive ever since we entered high school together. "Your so called 'friends' abandoned you again, didn't they?"

Jenny looked away, pulling her arm back. She never agreed nor denied it, but quietly said, "You're all I've truly got." I wanted to laugh, after all this time? My hands settled on my hips as I paced back and forth in small steps. My body shivered slightly as the wind began to pick up. Jenny continued on, "I know I've shined you on multiple times, I still haven't fully gotten over that night of the fire, but I- I need you now. You've always been such a good friend to me while I was making pretty bad decisions and I just need that right now."

Before I could reply, my phone rang. It was Lizzy, I noticed. "Give me a quick second," I told Jenny briefly before answering the phone. "Hey, can I call you back in just a bit? Something important is going on right now."

"He-he's here. He's in my house!" I heard Lizzy whisper on the other end of the line.

My eyes widened, "What? How?"

She began to sob silently, her voice trembling with fear."What do I do? I'm h...hiding in the clos...et downstairs."

My eyes shifted over to Jenny in a hard expression. I licked my lips, contemplating in my head my choices. I exhaled quickly and made my decision. "Call the police. I'm on my way over." I could see the hurt flash over Jenny's expression. "Call me back right after you do, okay?"

Lizzy hesitantly agreed, ending the call.

"Listen, my friend's in trouble. I'll...see you at school tomorrow and we can talk, alright?" I said, rushing over to the driver's seat.

Jenny slowly walked over to my window. Her expression hardened and her eyes returned back to a blank state. "You're never going to put me first, are you?"

I pushed in the clutch and started the engine. "Not until the day you do the same for me." I backed out of the parking space and raced over to the street, my tires slipping against the wet pavement. My eyes darted to my rear view mirror as I exited the parking lot, watching Jenny pull her hood back up and begin to walk away. As I drove, my mind kept returning to Jenny's reappearance and to those two Ravens. I didn't want to imagine the process and time that lead the other bird to cannibalistic tendencies, but it wouldn't leave my memory. It just didn't sit well with me. With the bird, Jenny, and now Lizzy, this just all seemed like some lucid dream.


I'm actually very upset that I waited so long to update, but life happened. Long story short: I visited Washington recently (gaining tons of inspiration and insight), dealt with my job which resulted in me finding a new one job (yay for me!), and since it's close to the end of the semester, school has been a set back as well.

Anyways.

This chapter was actually supposed to be a good amount longer, but since it's been over a month since my last update and this chapter was already 7 pages, I decided to input a cliff hanger and just split this session up into two chapters. As you can tell, this is where all of the shit starts. Everything from here on out, is going to end bad. This is the part where I become excited to begin exploring the dark parts of my imagination in hopes that I will leave my readers bewildered and uncomfortable. So I hope a good amount of readers have gotten past the slow paced chapters.

And as always, thank you for reading.