Soulless

S O U L L E S S: CHAPTER 2

"That godforsaken crow!"

A low grumble left me when exhaustion crashed through my conscious mind, desperate to ignore the familiar deep voice that rumbled through the house.

My door smacked open with a bang as my father stormed into the room with a fierce scowl on his face.

His eyes were narrowed as he stuck his head out my window, "It's you." Dad accused without a doubt, and he glowered at me through his sleep deprived eyes, "It's always your window it sits outside. All day, and all night."

"What?" I grumbled in confusion as he stalked towards my open window, still dressed in an old pair of baggy plaid bottoms that he'd worn to bed.

"You sleep like the dead, you know that?" Dad accused sticking his hand in a half empty glass of water before flicking it towards my face and I yelped as the cool liquid sprayed against my hot face, "I poured some of it in your hair, you slept right through it. Astonishing."

A shiver ran through me when I saw my comforter in a crumpled heap on the ground and my windows had been yanked wide open, letting in the crisp morning air.

I wanted to slam my eyes back shut and wrap myself back into the warmth of my bed, anything that would help me escape the throbbing pain that exploded from behind my eyes.

"I have an alarm clock." I grumbled rubbing my temples as I sat up, scowling at his morning craziness.

My dad resembled something close to a zombie in the morning, he had a squinty eyed look that made me wonder if he understood, "That you slept through, twice." He justly pointed out.

Huh, I didn't even hear it go off the first time.

"I needed my beauty sleep." I grumbled through a yawn as I stretched, "I have a big day ahead of me."

Dad wasn't the morning type, and neither was I. This would be our first and last conversation until we ate breakfast and I was totally okay with that, most mornings we didn't even speak until one of us had some coffee or if we needed a reminder of something.

Our silence was comfortable, mutual; there was nothing important enough to talk about first thing in the morning.

Especially on a Monday.

Although, if there was one thing that could wake him up; it was Corvin.

The obsidian feathered raven was his decade long enemy, although I had no idea why. Corvin was my companion, of a sort, I know that he was a bird but there was something comforting about him always being present.

The raven perched himself on the tree right outside my window, he would sometimes even perch on my shoulder if I were outside.

"One day," Dad began lowly under his breath as he stepped away from the window, light eyes awake and suddenly seeing, "I'm going to get that bird, and you won't stop me. It's a bad omen, you know."

Yes, I did. Ever since Corvin had appeared on my window when I was just a kid, dad made his opinions on raven's crystal clear; that they brought nothing but bad luck. But I was sure that my dad's 'bad luck' came from his clumsiness, something we weren't quite sure if I inherited yet, or not.

First days back were always the real bitch, I wondered why I always felt so pressured to look good but I did. I showered and even blow dried my long dark chestnut hair, over the summer I had let it grow a couple of inches longer so that it fell to my elbows in tousled waves.

I yawned audibly as I tried in vain to accomplish my morning routine, wondering how the people in the movies done it with such ease.

"I know dad, Bonnie made that clear." I mumbled, referring to his co-worker, Bonnie, who totally was. The more I heard the words 'bad luck' the more nervous I got, I wasn't superstitious but I was already nervous as it was today.