Years ago tragedy struck the Calloway's causing the family to fall apart. Lucariah Augustine St. Francis Calloway was left in the ruins of it all with a mother who couldn't bother and a father who disappeared one night with his older brothers. For...
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My body went into autopilot, searching for the knife I carried at all times. Ambrosia and Sophia collectively gasped as I pulled it from its place of rest; Dakota's blood still coating the blade. Blair sucked in a breath, drawing my attention for less than a moment. Her face had a sickly pallor as her eyes caught mine. Her lips parted in shock.
I'm sure the last thing she expected from the boy she was teasing just an hour ago to hold a weapon on his person. Or maybe she wasn't expecting this turn of events.
I assessed the range of emotions on everyone's face, sighing in resignation at the sight of Natarie's fearful gaze. I was younger than her when I witnessed my first murder and I turned out as okay as I could given the circumstances. She would be fine with what was about to unfold.
Blair reached for the knife on the counter, staring at me in uncertainty. My own gaze narrowed at her- for her bravery and for something else I saw in her that unsettled me a great bit. It was best to keep this girl in my good graces.
She gripped the knife in a white-knuckled grip, pulling her little sister behind her. Ambrosia stood in front of the both of them, reaching for me. I ducked under her arm, making a beeline for the kitchen entrance. Ducking behind a cabinet- he wouldn't expect me there.
The sound of heavy boots echoed through the silent house. That paired with the ever increasing pace of my heart filled my ears. It'd been over two years since I last murdered someone in cold blood.
It's been over two years since I was referred to as a homicidal maniac. Crow. The people on the street gave me the nickname. Me and two other's took the lives of over twenty people before the sun could touch the sky one winter night. Me and my murder of crows made sure they'd never feel the warmth of day again.
They went to bed cold; and cold they shall forever remain.
I could tap into that depraved part of my mind that I'd forced myself to switch off in order to fit in. I could tap into that ever growing thirst for blood to protect myself and these four young women.
The intruders presence was felt long before I saw him. There was a buzz in the air that told me he was close. My mouth watered at the thought of what I'd have to do. My muscles contracted in preparation.
From the corner of my eye I saw Blair grip the knife tighter. Some part of me wished she wouldn't have to use it. That brightness she had would dim considerably the moment a life is on her hands. I should know; I've seen it disappear faster than the tide. My eyes may shine, but they don't light up as I've noticed hers have, the way Juliet's might, even Atticus. I couldn't explain it, but it made enough sense to me.
The moment he stepped into range, my arm swung out and impaled his thigh. The man yelped; a boyish scream slipping past his lips, he fell to the floor howling in pain.
My senses took over, my mind morphing back into the blood lusting nine year old I used to be, hunger overtaking me for something far from food. My fists and legs raining down on the man as he struggled and pleaded for it all to end. The knife creating slashes and holes by the second.
