Page 149 of Rest In Knotty Pieces

No, that’s not when I got the scar…it was before that. A jigsaw piece falls into place, and a memory opens.

It was five years ago. Father was angry. I hadn’t done the job. He hit me once and threw me into the room. In the dark. I was bleeding, and it was all I could smell. It was so cold.

So dark.

It went forever. I thought he’d forgotten us.

I remember that when I woke up, I was in that dark place, and Raven was there. Whispering that she’d take care of us now. An alter that was newly revealed, telling me it was safe, but that I had to take the pain so that she could save us. It took me a moment, but I could feel the others, distantly, in the dark, screaming. So, I took it.

It was months before I came back.

When I did, I was in a city in a soup kitchen, and I was weak and hungry. I was free of the dark. I had no idea how we got there, but I was free, and the wound was just a scar.

Did I really believe that I was free, though?

No, but I’d hoped.

One can always hope.

Father never lets go of his bird. My singing is the only thing that makes him happy when he’s sad.

I grip my head, willing the thoughts to stop.

I back away further and further until I’m out of sight. He knows I’m here. He’ll come after my alphas. That thought freezes all of us.

No, we won’t let him take them from us.

I turn and sprint back the way I came, putting as much space between me and the message as I can.

It takes me too long.

Far too long, and when I see them, I am cold, and I can’t pretend. I don’t have it in me.

So, Merle comes to the front, taking over as I slide into the back, shaking inside and out because I forgot that there was never anywhere we could hide that he wouldn’t find us.

And he’s here.

What are we going to do?

Raptor

Igo to the bed and sit cross-legged, placing my clammy, shaking hands on my thighs and close my eyes. I haven’t locked the door, but the alphas are distracted with Pix and bonding with their other omega.

We’re not avoiding him.

Okay, we are, but we have reasons, and at the moment, he’s an excellent distraction.

When I open my eyes, I’m inside my head. In the special place. I’m sitting on a stone throne, my hands on the cold slabs. In front of me are cobblestones that have been placed so that they circle anticlockwise. There are several more stone thrones in the dark room, but only six are in the light and occupied.

In here, we all look different. But it’s just our mind, the deepest, darkest place in our head that is safe for us to talk.

Raven has inky black feathers coming out of her face and down her arms, she has massive wings that are black and glossy, her eyes are as dark as ebony. She is a cold and unfeeling creature, haughty, and noble. Different from the rest of us.

Sometimes I wonder if she’s even human.

Merle has glasses and messy mouse brown hair. She looks like she’s in her early twenties, but she almost never makes eye contact. She’s wearing boots that laceup to her knees and a skirt, which is new. Normally, she’s covered head to toe. I guess the alphas are helping her to evolve a little bit.

I adjust my grip on the chair, drumming my long and deadly nails. They are, of course, painted a bloody red.