Echoes & Ink: Raven by Emily Rose

Chapter Twenty-One

RAVEN

After leaving Simon and Leonora’s, Falcon and I stop at a cellphone store to grab him a phone. This way he can get a hold of me if he needs me at any point. When we leave the store, Falcon is excited and texting Sloan, Asa, Viper, and Shadow excitedly so they have his new number.

Tonight’s been an awesome night. Just the way I hoped it would turn out.

Of course, I should have figured a good evening would go to shit. Not that I could have prepared myself for this conversation more than I already have. Or so I thought. Falcon waits until we’re in the apartment and getting ourselves ready for bed before he springs the question on me I’ve been dreading.

After showering and getting changed into my PJs I go to the kitchen to grab myself some water but stop when I see Falcon sitting at the island, looking nervous and unsure. Hmm, that’s not like him. He was smiling and excited on the way home. I go to stand in front of him on the other side of the island and ask him if he’s okay.

He licks his lips nervously and I’m struck again by how much he looks like our father. It’s uncomfortable to think about, but there’s nothing I can do about genetics. And while their physical resemblance is strong, Falcon’s personality is so different. Maybe that’s why I can look at him and not be plagued by memories all the time.

Falcon grabs his notebook and quickly writes something down before turning it back to me.

I look at it and feel my face pale at the question.

Falcon: Why didn’t you ever come home? How could you have not known about me?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.No, fuck isn’t a strong enough word to describe the panic I’m feeling right now. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been psyching myself up for this very conversation all week. It’s still a kick to the gut. There is so much Falcon doesn’t know. That he doesn’t understand.

I swallow hard, fighting back the panic, and force myself to look at him. He’s watching me, eyes so bright I can all but see my reflection in them. Just like I did when I was a kid and saw the terrified reflection of myself in my father’s.

Slowly, I take the paper and write out a question of my own. I need to know where to start, because like it or not, he deserves to know. He’s gotten to know me, and this is the next big step in gaining his trust.

Me: What did our parents tell you?

Falcon: That you thought you were too good for us and refused to have anything to do with them or me. But Uncle Nero told me that it was because you ran away. He also said it was because you did something horrible and couldn’t live with yourself.

I want to laugh at this. Not in amusement, but bitterly. God, he would make it sound like my fault, wouldn’t he? Uncle Nero wouldn’t know the truth, only what my parents told him. If I didn’t hate him before, I really do now.

I take the paper back, and take a moment to organize my thoughts before I answer back.

Me: I don’t think I’m too good for you. I want nothing to do with our parents because of what they put me through growing up. That has nothing to do with you. I didn’t know you existed, and that is my fault, because if I had kept tabs, I would have. As for what Uncle Nero said, he doesn’t know the whole story.

Falcon reads it and I see his lips pull down into a frown. Finally he starts writing.

Falcon: What happened? Mom and Dad used to hit me when I didn’t do what they wanted fast enough, but it wasn’t as bad as Uncle Nero. Did you leave because they hit you too?

Guilt assaults me, but I try to breathe through it. God, how terrible am I that I’m almost jealous that he was treated so much better? That he didn’t suffer as badly as I did?

Me: They used to beat me so bad I would be in bed for days with bruises, cuts, and sometimes broken bones. They broke my ribs once, and when they took me to the hospital, they told them that I fell down the apartment building’s stairs. The doctors at the hospital didn’t care and sent me home with them.

Even just thinking of it makes me want to scream in rage. How could people who swore to fix and help people, see the obvious bruises and terror in my eyes, and send me back with them? How could they just not care about a little girl crying help?

Falcon’s eyes widen when he reads what I wrote.

Falcon: Did they send you to Uncle Nero?

I feel myself start to tremble but slowly nod. With shaking fingers, I grab the pen and paper.

Me: Uncle Nero is not a nice man, Falcon. I know you’ve seen that, and I’m very sorry for that. When I was ten, our parents got arrested and went to jail for a year, and I was sent to live with him. He abused me just as badly as they did, but he used to starve me when I didn’t do what he wanted. He also brought bad people around too.

I can’t think about those people. At what they were like, and what they did. I’ll end up curling into a ball and screaming. It’s taking everything in me not to run.

Falcon’s eyes are so wide that if he was a cartoon character, they would be taking up his whole face.

Falcon: He brought people around me too, but they mostly just did drugs and made fun of me. As long as I stayed out of their way, they left me alone. What did they do to you? Did they hit you too?

Relief rushes through me that he didn’t suffer too greatly. He shouldn’t have suffered at all, but as much as I wish I could go back, I can’t right the wrongs of the past. But now comes another problem. How much do I tell him?

Me: They did that and other things. I’m not ready to share that with you yet. Let’s just say that our parents, Uncle Nero, and all their friends are bad people and I’m glad you’re with me and not them.

Falcon is very still and quiet for a moment, as if debating my reply and wondering if he should push. I don’t have anything more I can add without revealing too much. Finally he writes back.

Falcon: What happened when you went back to our parents?

Me: It was the same thing, but this time I was older and faster. By the time I was your age, I was good at knowing how to get out of the way and disappear. I spent a lot of nights on the roof of the apartment building because they wouldn’t look for me there.

Falcon: Dad used to say you were bad and he had to punish you a lot. And that just before you left, you finally learned your lesson. Mom said that you were a bad seed, that you never learned, and I was better off not knowing you.

Bile rises in my throat at the words, tears burning in the back of my eyes as I fight so hard to not scream or cry. Those motherfucking bastards. Of course they would say it was my fault.

I step back and turn away from him, putting my hands on the edge of the counter by the sink. I take a few deep breaths and force myself to push past the pain rushing through me. Memories swirl around in my mind like a vortex, trying to suck me back down into them. Back into a world I left behind and purposely repressed.

There is no way I can tell Falcon. I can’t tell him the full truth because he’s only a child. He shouldn’t be burdened with my pain and grief. With the reminders of my past. It’s bad enough Falcon knows this much. It’s almost better to have him to believe them. Let him think that I’m a selfish bitch that didn’t want anything to do with him.

I turn to look back at him, and I see worry on his face as he looks up at me and sets his phone down. I look at his young face, and the past merges with the present. Would he look like her? Would they have been close? Where would I be now?

I have to force myself to close my eyes and then slowly open them to look at him. I can’t compare him. That’s not fair. To him or me. I need to remember who he is, and who he isn’t.

Finally, I grab the paper and write my answer.

Me: Our father used to abuse me, no matter what I did. Including ways that should never happen. Same thing with Uncle Nero and his friends. It is too painful for me to talk about right now. I might someday, but not now. Right now, you need to know that even though I didn’t know about you then, I do now. I’m going to make sure you spend the next few years happy and not worried about someone hurting you because you don’t react fast enough. I want you to have friends, spend time with them, and I want you to know that I’ll never let anything bad happen to you again. I don’t want you to worry about not knowing if you’re going to have food in your belly later, or if someone is going to come knocking on the door in the middle of the night to take you away. I want you here with me, and even though we didn’t know each other before, I’m still your sister and I want what’s best for you.

Falcon reads my words and I see him slowly nod. Then he writes back.

Falcon: I know you’re trying not to tell me the truth because you don’t want to scare me. But we both know what happened to you didn’t happen to me. I didn’t have to worry about that because I was a boy. And I know that no matter what they said, they were wrong. I’m glad they’re in prison.IT WASN’T YOUR FAULT.

The last four words are what it takes for me to break. How many times have I said those very words to myself over the years? How many times have I not believed them? Yet, here they are again and I don’t know how to accept them. I don’t know how to tell him that it is my fault. That even though he understands part of it, he doesn’t know the whole story?

As the tears pour down my face, I feel arms wrap around me and I jolt in surprise. Falcon hugs me tight, putting his head against the side of my own, his arms around my waist. I don’t know what to do, but I slowly lift my arms and hug him back. He’s never done this before. He’s smiled and teased me, but has never been overly affectionate. As if he was unsure if it would be welcome.

Guilt washes over me. God, I’ve screwed this up. I’ve been so scared of my own memories that I never thought about Falcon’s need for affection. For knowing he’s wanted.

Silently, I vow I’m going to do better. That he’s going to know he’s wanted, that he has someone in his corner. Someone who won’t let him down. No matter what.

Falcon slowly pulls away and looks me in the eyes. Eyes that are far too grown up for a kid his age. We’ve failed him. All of us. It hurts to know I’m lumped into that, but I can’t do anything but move forwards. Make it better for him from now on.

He slowly signs, “I’m sorry,” and then gives me a sad smile.

I shake my head furiously. I move and grab the pen and paper, writing quickly.

Me: NO! This is not your fault, and you have nothing to be sorry for. You’re a good kid, Falcon, and you’re becoming so much more than I could have thought or hoped with the upbringing we had. Hell, it was just fucking shit. Neither of us deserved it to happen to us. I’m so sorry I didn’t know about you, and I promise to be a better sister.

Falcon nods and grabs the paper to write back.

Falcon: You’re already a pretty awesome sister. I’m glad I’m with you and not in foster care. At least here I get a fancy apartment to brag about, and a sister who scares the shit out of all the men in her life.

I let out a watery laugh at that last sentence.

Me: Thanks. You’re a pretty awesome brother yourself. Just remember I can scare the shit out of you too if you piss me off and don’t clean up your room and bathroom.

Falcon smiles and gives me another quick hug before he steps back. He points at his bedroom and I nod, watching him walk away.

I didn’t plan on it going quite like that, but it’s almost a relief to get it out. I probably didn’t handle it right, but I won’t lie to him. He might be thirteen, but he’s a good kid, and he understands more than most adults.

I look back down at the paper on the island and feel fresh tears burn in my throat at the words that still refuse to sink in.

IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT.

I’ve told myself so many times, and still it hurts to know it’s a lie. It is my fault, and I can’t fix it. I couldn’t prevent the tragedies from my past from happening.

A sob escapes me and I feel myself sinking towards the floor. Suddenly, two strong arms wrap around me, startling me.

I lift my head and see Sloan’s concerned blue eyes. He scoops me up against his chest and carries me like I weigh nothing towards my bedroom. “I’m here now, Wildcat,” he whispers softly into my ear. “You’re not alone. I’ve got you.”

Why do those words break me more than the rest?