Zexion slammed on the casket, pushing with all his might to snap the wood. His strength intensified, he broke through the coffin, only to have dirt come rushing in to suffocate him once more. Fear made him cry out as he clawed away at the soil. It took him half an hour to shove the earth behind him and stand up. His heart in his throat, Zexion finally felt air touch his skin. Shock still had a firm grip on him. The boy fell to his knees, trembling violently, his head in his hands.

Dead. I'm supposed to be dead.

He couldn't understand. In the hospital, he'd felt his heart stop. The monitor told him the last sound on earth was supposed to be that long droning beep. But it wasn't. He was here, listening to the wind whispering on his shoulder and the crow cawing at him. Zexion eyed the crow with clouded vision, slightly curious as to why it hadn't flown away.

"Sh-shoo." his teeth chattered, though he wasn't cold, "Go on." Raising a hand to gently usher it away, the crow pecked at it with its razor-sharp beak and drew blood. Zexion gave a little gasp out of reflexion, but he was astonished to find it didn't hurt. What surprised him even more: the wound healed instantly. Within a minute, there wasn't even a scar to show, "What the hell?"

The crow's eyes met his. A brief silence passed before Zexion's head started throbbing in pain. He clutched his ears, falling onto his side, writhing in agony against the upturned earth. Zexion shut his eyes tight, voicing his pain in a shrill yelp. Images flashed behind his eyelids.

Aerith was standing in the living room of Zexion's childhood home. She was staring at the front door, open, hanging by a thread onto its hinges. The locks had been undone, somehow. Beside the door remained Zexion's shoes, tiny and never used. But she knew.

A smile spread on her lips.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Sephiroth came into the room. He glanced at the door and instantly figured it out, "That little bastard ran away?"

The woman took a step back. The door was open, now was her chance. She bolted for the opening but felt her husband's hand on her arm. Firmly and not gently, he tugged her back inside. Sephiroth kicked the door shut, redoing the locks and barring the way with his body, just to be safe.

"You're not going anywhere."

At that moment, Aerith saw her freedom staring her in the face. Zexion had escaped. There was no reason for her to endure. She paused, then lashed out.

Her nails raked Sephiroth's skin, tearing his muscle shirt and bloodying his face. Though frail, her fists bruised his eyes. To top it off, Aerith ripped out every one of his piercings, from the gages to the nose ring to the spider bites. Sephiroth appeared as if out of a meatgrinder. His face dripping with blood, reddening with rage, he punched her square in the jaw and snapped her head back. Her body flew across the room, slamming into the wall, where she slumped, utterly defeated.

Using one hand, he seized her by the scalp and dragged her to the kitchen. Aerith gave no cries of pain; she refused to show this man any more submission under his hand. Sephiroth, clever like a demonic fox, wrapped his hand around hers, guiding her fingers to one of the many meat knives. He held her hand, holding the knife, and slashed her throat to ribbons. As blood poured down her breast, Sephiroth threw her body down on the floor. The red splattered everywhere. He wrote in dainty cursive, leaving a note next to her body, then fled the apartment. Aerith waited for him to come back, but he thankfully never did.

She brought up a crimson-stained hand to her bra. From it she retrieved the only picture she had of Zexion. All that time, she'd kept it in that one place, hidden from Sephiroth and closest to her heart.

"My little boy…" she coughed up blood, "My sweet, innocent boy… I…"

But she could say no more. She'd lost too much blood and her heart couldn't support itself anymore. Aerith's eyes closed, as did her lips, with the warmest smile on. She'd never appeared this happy or relieved to anyone.

This was all witnessed from the window. Though barred, there was a speck of light peeking through. And through that little hole, a crow watched thoughtfully on. After the police discovered the body and the note, it flew off, waiting for the opportune moment.

That moment was now, when death would strike the Strife family again.

Zexion stopped shaking. He lay there, limp on the ground. The boy let the crow's memories sink in before he let his anger consume him. All those years of self-loathing, of self-mutilation, over something that wasn't even his fault. His mother loved him. It was Sephiroth who hated him. He killed Aerith, not Zexion. Sephiroth. Sephiroth. Sephiroth.

"Sephiroth." he spoke the name aloud. Enraged, he dented the earth. With blazing eyes he looked at the crow, "Where is he?"

The bird cawed once, then took off, heading toward the moon. Zexion got to his feet and was about to follow when he heard a dog barking. He saw a four-legged shadow approach. Then Zexion pushed his fury to the deepest region of his heart, saving it for when the time came. For now he was delighted to see Red trotting to him. On his collar was a rope, chewed off at the end, next to the dog-tag that read the address of the delivery service.

"Red!" the dog yipped merrily, jumping up to lick Zexion on the face, "Good boy, Red! How did you know where to find me?" Red couldn't answer with words, so he just kissed Zexion again before getting down. Zexion rubbed him between the ears, and as he expected him to, Red followed Zexion as he let the crow lead him, "I'll take you home after, okay boy?"

Red didn't bark back. He quietly stayed at Zexion's side, never looking up at him or anywhere else but forward.