Quoth the Raven Part 3

     I'm not sure exactly when I'm gonna finish this post, or when it will go up, I'm kinda busy with helping Migz figure out who the hell he saw in the alley.



     Judy's face went completely white. Scarlett smiled at her and very kindly asked "Would you have a car by any chance? Mommy?" She nodded. Scarlett used her gun to motion her to the car port.

     Judy opened up the garage door and climbed in the drivers seat, her face still white with fear. Scarlett instructed me to sit in the passengers seat, while she went and sat behind Judy, still holding the gun at her. I felt this increasing feeling of... wrongness... the whole time we were in the car. I kept my face pressed against the window, as if I was trying to get out. But I remember what they said to each other.

     "Where do you want me... to take you?"

     "Where do you think?" She still sounded so polite and kind.

     "..."

     "Our old house, silly! Remember all the fun times we used to have there? Remember? Before we moved to the big city and you fucked all those kind gentlemen? Before you went completely batshit insane? Before you completely forgot about me? Before Raven was born?"

      I heard Judy sniffle, her next words were clouded in tears.

     "Oh God! What are you gonna do to me?"

     "What's wrong mommy? Don't you wanna relive the old days?"

      She began sobbing harder than ever.

     "Please don't do this! Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"


     I heard a small giggle come from Scarlett. Then there was nothing but silence for the next couple of hours, silence only broken by the sounds of Judy's sobbing.




     Finally, we arrived. I could feel Judy trembling harder than ever as we came to a stop. I looked around. We were at an old abandoned farm house, surrounded by a giant, dying cornfield.

     "Well, go on in." chimed Scarlett, still smiling like a kid in a candy store. Judy and I both got out of our seats. Scarlett took my hand and let Judy lead us into the run down old shack. No, before you ask, this farmhouse was different from the one in the Loop.



It was bigger... slightly.



      Anyways, when we got inside, Scarlett began dancing around and twirling, as if she was five years old again. "It's perfect! It's just like it was before, isn't it mommy?" Judy awkwardly sat down on a dusty old chair, looking very uncomfortable. "Why did you make me bring you two here?" She asked, shooting a stinging glance at me. I felt as if that look she gave me, even though it lasted barely a second, meant that I was somehow to blame for all this. I suddenly didn't want to be there anymore. I tugged at the hem of Scarlett's dress "Sis... I wanna go home... I'm scared..." She looked down at me and smiled, "Don't worry Raven, we're gonna have fun! Okay?"

     She pulled our her handgun again, and casually shot Judy in the leg. I closed my eyes and turned away as she let let out a blood curdling scream that would haunt my nightmares for many years. I heard Scarlett walk over to her and do... I don't wanna know what she did really. All the while I heard sounds of screaming, and felt a tiny bit of warm blood splash onto my back. At some point I felt my way into a corner and stayed there, covering my ears until Scarlett grabbed me by the shoulder and turned me around to look at the bloody pulp that was our mother. She was still breathing.

     She smiled. "Your turn."

     She handed then gun over to me. "Finish the job."

     I looked down at the broken and bloody mess on the ground. The leg that was shot was now halfway across the room. The other one was so broken and mangled... I don't wanna think about the rest. Scarlett helped me hold the gun to make sure I had a good aim.

     "Do it."

      I felt a rush of fear when she said that. I stood there frozen. I didn't know much, being a child. But one thing I knew for sure was that killing people was wrong.




Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. 




     "DO IT!"


Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. 


     I felt a surge of fear, like electricity, that was so over whelming that it made all my muscles immediately tense up. I had no time to stop myself before I pulled the trigger.









Wrong...?




     "See? Don't you feel better now?"

     I said nothing, staring in awe at the lifeless hunk of meat before me, wondering what I had just done. I turned to look up at Scarlett, who was smiling down at me. I felt nothing.

It was so easy. What's so wrong about killing people anyways?

      "Kinda."

      "Good. We have a lot of work ahead of us, you and I."


      She told me to go wait in the car as she cleaned up the mess, when she came back she sat in the driver's seat and took off. We swerved and swayed a lot during the long ride home. I guess she never got the chance to learn how to drive before she killed her dad. I keep thinking back to that time, and how I just sat there, staring out the window. Thinking nothing but of how easy taking a life was. And it did feel good... in a way.

      Before heading home we stopped at a dry cleaners to get ourselves cleaned up. Luckily, there was no one there but the staff, who were all but asleep, so no one questioned us when we walked in literally covered in blood.

      When we finally had our clothes dry and were back at my house, the sun was coming up. Scarlett instructed me to go straight to bed, and to tell anyone who asked that I got home at a much earlier hour. She then went back to the car. But before climbing in she turned her head towards me, smiled and said,

   

      "I'll be seeing you."



      She did end up seeing me again. And again, and again, and again. Same old story. Different "playmates." By the time I was around 9 years old, I had grown accustomed to her bimonthly visits, and almost kinda looked forward to them... in a way. But I was out of control. I was raised used to seeing death, believing that taking a person's life can be both fun and beneficial. Not knowing the repercussions. Only knowing that it's important to not get caught.

    One day, I had gotten to the point where I was so out of control, that when a girl that I went to school with starting poking fun at me, I snapped. I must've been used to criticism by then, but something about what she said just drew me over the edge. I waited until after school and followed her home. I made note of the address, then I went back home and called Scarlett.


    "Well, well, well. If it isn't my favourite little sister! What can I do for you?"


    "Hey Scar! You'll never guess what I found for us today!"

   
    "... Is it another new playmate?"


    "Uh-huh! And I wrote down her address and everything for you!"


    "Perfect! You're really getting the hang of this, aren't you Rave?"


     That night, we went over to her house and grabbed her from her room. Then we took her back to the farmhouse to kill her. As I said, I had gotten used to Scarlett killing people, and then me delivering the final blow. Just your average night for me.



     But the next day was very different. I had never witnessed any sort of emotional response to death besides joy before; and the girl we killed... I didn't think anyone would miss her. But that day... people were in tears. I had never seen anything like it. Kids in my class... her friends... her best friends... I couldn't stand it. They kept having to leave the room to cry out in the hall. For the first time I felt... disgusting... evil.

     Durring recess, I decided to go up to one and ask what she was so upset about. It was common news all over the school that the girl had gone missing, and the fact that I was asking one of her best friends what was wrong, caused a couple of heads to turn. She screamed in my face. I don't know what she said, and it didn't matter. The amount of emotion that was caused over the death of one small, insignificant person overwhelmed me. I turned and walked away from her, and as soon as I was out of everyone's sight, I hopped the fence and ran to my house.

   




Oh geez, long post is long. I shall finish the story... hopefully tomorrow... possibly later. I'm a little drained right now. That was a lot of recalling of old memories that I just did for you guys, and I'm all cried out.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go cry some more to Migz! :D






    

 

Quoth the Raven Part 1

     Hey, sorry this has taken so long to post up, but I haven't had much time to really write about anything, much less something as difficult as this is going to be. Sorry if things don't make much sense in this either, Migz and I have been traveling around non-stop as of late, so I'm rather tired. Some good news is that my Slender-sickness finally subsided! So there's something (and yes, Raggedy, I have some of that sludge shit saved for you. It was surprising easily contained).

   

     Well, no point in wasting any more time. Migz, if I randomly burst into hysteric tears, this is why.


 
     This basically all started the day I was born. I very briefly lived in a tiny home with both my elder sister, Scarlett Rose and my mother, Judy Rose. My mother was... well, she was a whore, to put it bluntly. She never had a great liking for children, even my sister, who she had somehow put up with for ten whole years. But when I was born, I guess something in her mind just snapped. For the short amount of time I was with her, I was never fed, treated terribly, and she had even given me an insulting name; "Raven," which I have since had legally changed for... well, we'll get to that later. She named me after that famous poem The Raven, in which the bird is depicted as a sort of tormenter, a "bird of the devil," and I guess that's what she thought of me.

     And when I say I very briefly lived there, I mean it. I don't even remember the house or what my mother looked like. Almost a week into my life, she had kicked my sister and I out. Luckily, Scarlett decided to do the smart thing and ask our fathers to hopefully take us in. We first went to her father; a very successful business man who had a wife but no children. He said he'd be glad to take one of us in, but they didn't want more than one child in the house. He was both kind and greedy, but kindness can be expensive. And I guess in the world of business, greed always comes first. This meant that we had to go and talk to my father; a middle class working man with a wife and a son. Lucky for me, he was a moderately kind man, and willing to take me in; regardless of the fact that his family would know he cheated.

     For about 6 years I lived happily with that family. I never knew anything about my mother or my sister, or what had become of either of them. Besides my bright red hair, I looked just like my father. I had no reason to think I was any different from them. I was happy. I was a happy ignorant child, spoiled beyond her wildest dreams and unaware of the terrors of the real world. I can't remember a time I was happier than I was those first 6 years of my life.

     As for Scarlett, things were very different. She didn't have the blessing of a fading infant's memory.  She clearly remembered how terrible our moth... Judy was to her for all those years. She was constantly neglected and abused; either by Judy herself, or her "clients." Things didn't get much better at her new home either. Her father and his wife were barely ever home. She was constantly by herself, and she was too shy to make any friends at school. She got picked on so much that it got to the point were she had to be home schooled.

     Eventually, her father and his wife got divorced. The wife didn't want to have to spend all her money taking care of her, so she was left with her father and a nanny. Things only got worse from there. Her father had stopped coming home from work, only showing up maybe once a week smelling like booze, sweat, and god knows what else. The man who had been homeschooling her left as soon as he had stopped being payed, and the nanny just left one day and never returned. Scarlett was completely alone.

     Around the time she turned 14, she started lashing out. During her father's absences, she would turn furniture, break antiques, smash windows, and tear out door and walls. I don't know why, but she was never punished for this. My guess is that her father was either too busy or too high to notice. So the violence in her heart escalated to the point where she took Buds, her father's pet cat, skinned him alive, ripped off all of his limbs, and left him to bleed to death in her father's room. The sight of it when he finally came home must've given him a heart attack. Finally, he was convinced she needed help and sent her to an institution. However, she quickly escaped, and the loneliness and anger in her heart had built up so much that she went back to her father's house, and waited for him to come home.

     On the day he finally showed up, she hid in the basement as she knew his exact schedule for whenever he was home; shower, eat, go to bed. She waited a couple hours down there until she was confidant that he was asleep. Then, she took the knife that he had used to cut his steak, slowly climbed the stairs to his bedroom, crept over to his bedside, and cut out his throat. Once he was dead, she wanted to make sure she left a nice, big mess for the police to find. She separated him into what must've been a million tiny pieces, and scattered him all over his newly refurnished house.

   


     But she didn't want to stop there.



I'll continue the rest of this, perhaps tomorrow. It's hard... reliving these memories, even if they aren't mine. No, I haven't even gotten to the good part yet.