Raven (2 page)

Chapter 3

After twenty-four grueling hours of police interrogation, doctor’s prodding and poking and therapists analyzing every thought in my head, I’m finally cleared to go home. I’m not sure if I even
have
a home to go back to. My momma hasn’t called or checked in on me. Thankfully, my Aunt Elaine had the decency to keep an eye on me, since I’m still a minor and all.

Walking into my house, I wasn’t expecting it to look the same as it did when I was
detained—the blood stains still on the carpeting, the coffee table kicked over and everything scattered across the living room and clumps of my hair sticking out from under the sofa.

I didn’t realize at the time, but Tom got a few good licks in while I was going bat shit crazy. The doctors had to suture a cut above my eyebrow, a gash on my forearm and address the giant bald spot I had in the middle of my head. I checked out alright, but seeing the aftermath just drills the point home.

The cops told me that Tom was going to be fine. As bad as he looked when he was being wheeled away on a gurney, he has nothing more than a concussion, broken nose, a cracked rib and a few cuts that needed some stitches. He’d spend a day in the hospital, maybe two. They also told me that they’ll be picking him up directly from the hospital, as they want to press charges on him for the battery to my mother. Thankfully, you don’t need a victim to come forward on domestic violence; the state can prosecute all by themselves with enough evidence.

“Mom,” I call, walking into the kitchen to avoid the recent crime scene.

Nothing.

“Momma!”

Walking down the hall, I pause outside my mother’s bedroom and an eerie feeling washes over me. I push the door open and find my mother lying in bed on her back, still wearing the same clothes as the day I left. The bruise on her cheek has turned a nasty yellow tint and shows the clear imprint of a large hand.

“Momma? Are you okay?” I whisper, sneaking through the door and climbing in bed with her.

Nothing.

No turn of the he
ad, no flutter of eyelids—just nothing.

“Momma, please talk to me,” I plead, lying down on a pillow and scooting as close to her as possible without actually touching.

“What did you do, Rian? What did you do?” Tears well in her eyes and I don’t understand it, but guilt crashes over me like a tidal wave.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, trying to find the strength to not run out of this room.
She should be the one comforting me, not the other way around.

“What did you do?”
Finally we have movement, but it breaks me into pieces. Gripping the side of her pillow, my mother rolls away from me, curling into a ball. Her shoulders violently shake with the tears she’s letting flow. I’d bet money that she hasn’t cried in the last few days, holding it all in until she knew … I don’t know what she needed to know … but she probably needed
some
sort of reassurance before she let the dam break.

“It’s okay. Shhhh.”
I cover her with my body, holding her, giving her some time to grieve whatever it is that she’s grieving.

Her husband being in the hospital? That she let him put his hands on her? That her
sixteen-year-old daughter protected her against a grown man? Her daughter being arrested?

I’m not sure. The only thing I know is I want my carefree, hippy mom back.

****

I wake up alone in my mother’s bed, but covered with the quilt she keeps over her hope chest. It must not be me that she’s upset with, seeing as she thought to take care of me.

Sitting up, my body’s feeling the stress of the last few days and the ache of the muscles in my entire body are screaming in agony. Trying to stretch only seems to make the pain worse. Walking inside the attached bathroom, I find a bottle of over the counter pain killers on the sink. Taking two out of the bottle, I toss them in my mouth and swallow them dry as the only cup in here belongs to Tom. There’s no way in hell I’m touching that.

Leaving the room in search of my mom, I find her sitting
on the loveseat in the living room with only the slight glow of the table lamp illuminating the room. Tiptoeing around the blood on the carpeting, I sit across from her in the recliner.

Her eyes are vacant of the woman I knew growing up. Any trace of happiness is gone.
They’re not just sad, but cold and distant as she absentmindedly stares out the window.

“Momma,” I whisper, trying to get her attention. Lazily, her gaze follows the sound of my voice and rests when her eyes connect with mine. “Please tell me what’s the matter.”

“Rian, I don’t know what to say. My husband is in the hospital, bandaged and stitched, because my daughter beat him up. Do you see how absurd this sounds?”

“But,
Mom …” I’m cut off in mid sentence, frightened by the sharp tone of her voice.

“You hit him, Rian. You didn’t stop. I tried screaming and begging you to stop, but you just kept going. How could you do that?
I didn’t raise you this way.”

“Are you kidding me?
One … he’s alive and only has minor injuries. Don’t over exaggerate this. Two … he hit you. Hard.” I rise from the chair, pacing the room, careful not to get near the mess by the sofa. I really didn’t think she would be upset with me. How is this even possible?

“Rian, I think it’s best that you stay with Elaine for a few weeks. Just until this all blows over and you and Tom can live under the same roof again.”

Wait a fucking minute. She’s kicking
me
out? For
him
? A man that hit her and bruised her face?

“No!” I scream, startling her. “That’s not how this is going to work. You don’t get to kick out your daughter for defending you against a man that was probably going to beat on you until you gave him what he wanted. You stick up for me. I’m your
child.” I stop pacing directly in front of her, staring down at the broken woman sitting before me.

“I’ve already made the arrangements. Just until things cool off, baby girl.
Tom’ll be home next week, after the police finish their investigation, so we have a few days to get you packed up and spend some time together before you go to Elaine’s. This is for the best, Rian. You might not understand it now, but when you’re grown you will.”

“I won’t ever live here with him again,
Mom.
You
shouldn’t, either.”

“He’s my husband,” she whispers, turning away from me, almost as if she’s disgusted by the sight of me.

“I won’t come back. If you choose him over me, I’ll never come back.”

No response. Not even a glare, a standoff or an illusion that she’s going to try to talk me out of what I’m saying. Just nothing.

“Next time, Mom, he won’t stop. He’ll hit you until there’s nothing left. He’ll take everything from you.”

I turn and walk back down the hall toward my bedroom, pausing outside my door, praying for the footsteps of a loving mother I once knew.
The mother that no matter what, would be on my side and comfort me in a time of need. That woman is long gone, replaced by a shell of the person I loved and depended on.

And I was right, by the way.
Tom got out of the hospital the next day and was immediately taken to the police department. After a few days with them, the DA decided to not press any charges. Why not? I don’t know, it was pretty stupid to me.

After three days, h
e
did
come back. He
did
hit her until there was nothing left. He
did
take everything.

Including the one thing I could never get back … her life.

Only, she didn’t die at
his
hand. She took her
own
life.

I’d come home from school the day before I was supposed to go to Elaine’s to live. When I walked through the front door, she was standing in the kitchen making some soup and sandwiches. I knew something was off. It had been months since she even tried to act like a loving mother. My defenses were up and we fought.
Hard. I said some things I’ll forever regret. Later that afternoon, I went to check on her.

Selfishly, she hung herself, leaving behind a note detailing the abuse and an even longer apology to me for not being as strong as she should have been. Regardless of how she died, I know it’s Tom’s fault
, and hopefully one day he’ll pay for breaking the freest spirit I ever knew.

Chapter
4

It’s the day after my mother’s funeral. My Aunt Elaine has stayed with me at my house since my mother died. It’s been three days since I found her and it still doesn’t seem real. I guess yesterday wasn’t just a hard day on us, the family, but Tom
, too. Not that I care.

Tom was arrested late last night. Apparently, he couldn’t handle my mother’s death … murder. From everything the detectives told me, there won’t be freedom in his future anytime soon, if ever. The responding officer put in his report that sometime after seven yesterday evening, Tom was involved in a car accident. It goes on t
o say that he was well above blood alcohol content for the state mandated limits. Tom ended up crashing into a family on their way home from vacation, killing the driver, which only adds to my rage. If only he would have been charged for the abuse to my mother, this would’ve never happened. As happy as I am he won’t be able to hurt anyone again, I get little comfort knowing he’s going away after a father and husband lost his life. It probably would be best if someone just shanked him in the shower.

“Aunt Elaine, you really don’t have to keep me. I’ll be seventeen in a few months and the courts will probably emancipate me,” I say, letting it all sink in. I’m alone. No mother, no father … just me, and of course my aunt, but you know what I mean.

“Stop talking nonsense, Rian. I’m family and family takes care of their own. It’s what your momma would have wanted.” A pain I’ll never know crosses her face. I have no siblings so I’m not sure what it feels like losing one. Where I lost a mother, Elaine lost a sister. Someone she’s known her entire life and loved just as long.

Getting in the car, I reach across the center and pull Elaine to me for a hug. As empty as I feel inside, I can’t help but wonder how she’s feeling. Since we only have each other, we better take advantage of it.

Pulling up to her small apartment, I cringe. I’m sure that Elaine couldn’t afford my old house, but this is going to be hard—going from having an average size home with a yard and porch to a small, dingy two bedroom end unit with no patio. Add onto that a new school to finish my junior year … I could give Grumpy Cat a run for her money.

Walking inside carrying all the belongings I was
able to fit in the car, it’s exactly the way I remember it growing up—furniture older than me, but still in good condition, clean yet cluttered and smelling like fresh flowers.

Stepping into the bedroom that will be mine until I go off to college, I’m pleasantly surprised by the size. For some reason I had some conception it was going to be small and
dated. I have a daybed on one wall and a dresser on the opposite one, with a lot of natural light and even a small desk under the window. In the grand scheme of things, I could be a lot worse off.

“Do you want some lunch?” Elaine calls from the front of the apartment.

“Yeah. I’ll come help you.” Setting my two suitcases down on the bed, I join her in the kitchen.

“I went yesterday and enrolled you in the school. There’s a bus stop just outside until I can try to get a loan to get you a car,” Elaine says, spreading mustard on a slice of bread. Handing it to me, I pile it high with lunch meat and cheese.

“You don’t have to get me a car. I’ll worry about that when I’m eighteen and can access Mom’s estate money.” Mom wasn’t rich by any means, but she did have some stocks and bonds she never cashed in after her parents died. Combine that with the savings she had and there’s enough money to get me by for a while, if needed. The only stipulation is that until I’m a legal adult, Elaine, who the state considers my legal guardian, has to approve of any withdrawals, or so the attorney said. I never thought I’d be so happy my mother thought ahead by not putting Tom as the beneficiary. I really lucked out.
Well, that sounds shitty.

“Alright, Rian. It’s your call. You’re almost an adult.
I went into the bank early this morning and added you on my account. I don’t see a reason that you have to come to me if you need or want anything beyond what I provide. If you want to spend a little on you, like your momma would, that’s fine by me and I won’t need to be bothered signing on it.”

“Thanks, Aunt Elaine. That’s real nice of you. I don’t think I’ll need anything other than school supplies and stuff, but knowing if something comes up I don’t have to bother you is cool.”

Sitting at the small dining table, we eat in silence, not making eye contact. After rinsing my plate, I mentally prepare myself to unpack everything I brought. The first thing out of the suitcase is a photograph of me when I was younger. I have never looked as happy as I do in this picture.

“Baby girl, how was your day?”
my mom asks as I get off the bus in front of the house. Tottering toward her, I drop my backpack at the bottom of the porch and then climb to squeeze her waist tight.

“It was great
, Momma. Kyle tried to take the flower out of my hair and Garrett beat him up. I’m gonna marry him some day.” Momma laughs then takes me up in her arms and twirls me around while singing whatever’s playing on the radio to me.

“You found yo
ur Bobby, baby girl.” I look at her dumbfounded.

“His name’s Garrett,
Momma.”

She pushes
play on the cassette tape inside the radio and a song I’ve heard time and time again starts playing. Janis’s voice sings loudly across the lawn about a boy named Bobby. I dance until my feet hurt and it’s time for dinner.

My happy memory quickly turns sad as I remember the lyrics to that song. Just like Bobby left Janis, Garret
t left me. Right about now, I would give anything for Garrett to hold my hand in his.

Wiping away a stray tear, I set the photograph down on the small nightstand and get back to the task at hand. After Garrett moved away and
Mom got married, I decided to try my hardest to become part of the “in” crowd at school. Even going as far as becoming a cheerleader, which every movie and young adult book will tell you is a pretty high rank on the social hierarchy chart. King, President, Prom Queen, then Cheerleader. Short of lying to the entire world about going all the way with a member of a boy band, it’s what I had to do to climb the social ladder.

For the most part
, it worked. The girls were suddenly my best friends and the boys wanted to date me. I never really trusted any of them or had any boyfriends, but it was nice to not be the center of attention in a negative light anymore. I guess my plan had worked.

Now, being here with Elaine, I can’t bring myself to even
think
about joining anything. I just want to finish the last year and a half of school before I can move away and start fresh. I need to find a place far enough away that nobody has any idea of what I’ve been through or about my upbringing. It’s a dream I’m determined to achieve.

I place all my toiletries, including my makeup, on top of the dresser and open the
drawer to put away my bras and underwear. When I make my way to the actual clothes, it hits me. I didn’t pack any of my things. No slim fit jeans or fitted tee shirts—I only managed to bring things that reminded me of my mother, more importantly, the clothes she used to wear when I was growing up with the exception of my pajamas. A few floor-length dresses, flowy skirts and matching tops and even a few pieces of jewelry. The two pairs of jeans folded at the bottom have more of a flare to them than most girls wear in this era.

Putting one of the lightweight sweaters to my nose
and inhaling deeply, my mother’s scent is imbedded in the fabric, giving me a sense of peace I’ve been missing over the last few days. She’s here with me even though she’s gone. If I could find a way to apologize to her, I’d feel even better.

Hanging everything in the closet or folding it away in the drawers, the sun’s just starting to set and my new room is feeling more homey with every second that passes. Knowing tomorrow’s going to be difficult, I change into a pair of cotton sleep shorts and matching tank top and crawl into bed with my iPod in hand. Setting it in the dock, I turn the volume very low and drift off to sleep with songs of my childhood playing softly, praying for good dreams.

****

Dressing to impress … okay
, that’s a lie. Dressing for me, I throw on a long, flowing brown skirt, tight fitting tank top and a pair of flip flops. The best thing about living in the south is being able to wear sandals damn near year round. It’s one of the reasons I’ll probably never move north.

After scarfing down a bagel, I graciously accept Elaine’s offer for a ride to school. The first day is always terrible, especially starting
months after the other kids. Following the signs when I first enter the doors to the guidance counselor’s office, my heart is surprisingly calm. I know exactly what I have to do here—finish high school with passing grades and then go off to college.

Unlike most kids my age, I’m not concerned with where I go to school. I’ll probably apply to all the state universities, but I’m not ready to discount the community colleges. Anywhere I can get a fresh start, I’ll take it. Much like today.

Walking through the set of double doors, I approach the desk where a student is manning the phones. Writing my name on the sign in sheet, I take a seat in the plastic chairs that line the front of the office. After a ten minute wait to speak with an overweight, middle-aged man who introduces himself as “an ear to listen if I needed it”, I’m sent packing to my first class.

My schedule seems pretty
light—a few classes I’ve taken before but didn’t get a chance to finish and a theater course. Because this district requires me to take another English class, and the only one they offer that I haven’t taken is Creative Writing, that’s my first stop.

Knocking softly, the teacher, a well-dressed, younger woman, answers and shows me to the seat she has designated for me. Thankfully, we get to bypass the whole “class, this is the new student” speech and I’m able to jump right into the lesson. As she’s talking about the paper we’re going to be assigned to write over the next two weeks, Ms. Sullivan approaches my desk.

“Rian, are we moving too quickly for you? I haven’t had the chance to go over your transcripts, so I’m not sure where you land with a class of this difficulty.”

“I’m fine. I’ve actually taken quite a bit of Language Arts classes. I’ve got this,” I
kindly reply, turning back to the blackboard to finish taking notes on the requirements of the paper.

“Alright,” she addresses me and then turns back to the other students. “Rough drafts are due on my desk by Friday end of class.” With that, she returns to her desk as we all begin thinking of
topics to write about.

Before I know it, the bell rings and everyone gathers their belonging
s to head out of the classroom. Since I’m sitting in the front row closest to the door, I’m the first one out. Studying the map of the school, my schedule and locker assignment, I head in the direction I believe my next class to be when I hear someone yelling.

“Rian? Rian, wait up,” a gruff voice calls.

Being new to the school and not having had the chance to make any friends yet, I keep moving, knowing he’s yelling for someone else.

“Rian!”

Turning around, just to examine my surroundings, a tall, lean boy runs directly into me, scattering my books and schedule across the hallway. Reaching down to pick up my belongings, the entire world stops once I make eye contact with the person who’s been screaming up and down the corridor. He was in fact calling out for me.

“Garrett,” I hoarsely whisper.

“I
knew
that was you back there. Not too many chicks named Rian,” he jokes, handing me a book I failed to retrieve.

“How did you know I was here?” Of all the schools in all the world, I’m at the one with the only friend I ever really had.

“I was sitting in the back of Ms. Sullivan’s class. I didn’t recognize you at first, but when she said your name, I knew it had to be you.” Garrett pulls me into his arms and hugs me tightly. If I wasn’t carrying all of this stuff, I would have hugged him back. There’s so much to tell him. So much to talk about.

“Well, I have to get to class. Can we talk later?” I ask, not wanting to have another awkward entry on my first day.

“Yeah, meet me in the front. I’ll give you a ride home.” One more squeeze and he starts walking in the opposite direction of me.

The rest of the
day passes by in a blur. All I can think about is seeing Garrett again. It’s amazing how he’s always there when I need him most. Kind of like my own personal guardian angel disguised in loose jeans, a tighter tee shirt and sneakers.

Waiting just outside the main doors, I see his eyes before anything else. He’s the only person I’ve met that has such intense, yet comforting blue eyes
. It’s probably the only thing that hasn’t changed about him over the last three years. Standing a good foot taller than the other boys, he effortlessly moves through the crowd before he’s standing right in front of me.

“You ready?” he asks.

“Yep.” The butterflies I used to get when I knew him before come fluttering back, stealing all coherent thoughts from my brain.
Please, God, don’t let me be one of those girls.