The Raven Four Books 1-3 - Jessica Sorensen

Prologue

Raven

Six years earlier…

Padded walls surround me. I’m trapped. Not just in this room. I feel trapped in my own mind, stuck in a place splattered with blood, pain, and torment, all of which were put there by me. At least that’s what the police are saying. The doctors here have been trying to figure that out.

“So you can’t remember anything about that day?” the doctor asks me.

He’s sitting in a chair in the doorway and is holding a handheld device, jotting down notes while he tries to pick apart my brain. He’s under strict orders not to let me out of this room, which has been my home since the day I was hauled in here, covered in blood, completely numb inside.

Completely in shock about the blood staining my hands.

I shake my head, hugging my knees against my chest. “I can’t remember anything other than when the police showed up.”

He taps his stylus against the screen of the handheld device, studying me way too closely for my liking. But he does that a lot. It used to not bother me, but then the incident happened, and now I wish he’d stop looking at me at all.

“Why do you think that is?” he asks. “Or do you really remember and you’re just too afraid to tell the truth? I know that’s how it works sometimes. Fear is potent like that. It can make us do things we never imagined we’d do. Is that what happened that day, Ravenlee? Were you afraid?”

Fear pulsates through me.

Blood on my hands.

Blood everywhere.

But I feel nothing.

See nothing.

“You are nothing,” he whispers in my ear. “Remember that if you ever think about this again.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” I say. I can’t see his face, but I can smell him—smell the blood on him—

I blink from the memories. “I’m not afraid.”

The doctor studies me, and I can’t tell if I’ve failed or passed this test.

Am I ever getting out of here?

Finally, he stands up. “Your aunt and uncle are going to be here to pick you up tomorrow.”

“Wait… I’m getting out of here?” I ask, surprised.

From what I understood and what everyone kept telling me, I was going to be locked up for a very long time.

He nods, tucking the stylus into the front pocket of his shirt. “Some circumstances in the case have changed. The witness they thought they had is no longer a witness. And some of the evidence the police thought they had against you no longer exists.”

Weird. But everything about the last handful of months has been weird.

Starting with…

Blood on my hands.

I yank myself from the memory, refusing to think about that day. “You said my aunt and uncle were coming to get me?”

He nods, stepping into the room. “From what I understand, you’re going to go live with them. I think they’re your only living relatives. Am I right?”

Frowning, I nod. I barely know my dad’s brother and wife. Have only met them a couple of times, and from what I could tell, my dad and him didn’t get along very well. My mom wasn’t a fan of them either.

My frown deepens.

Everything is in the past tense.

Stop thinking about it.

“Well, I hope you’ll continue your therapy wherever you end up.” He stays inside my room as he shuts the door.

My guard instantly goes up.

The last time he shut the door…

He smiles at me. “Now, little bird, how about a proper goodbye.”

I shut my eyes as he reaches me. I shut down.

Just like the day my parents died, my mind shuts off.

Blanks out.

And in the end, I remember hardly anything.

But maybe that’s for the better.

One

Raven

A lot of people say my name has a magical sound to it. I guess it does.

I used to love my name. Ravenlee Wilowwynter, Raven for short. It’s different. Unique. Pretty even. But it also has a deeper meaning. Or, well, an actual raven does.

Bad luck.

That’s what those birds represent. And right after I turned twelve, I realized this. Like those dark-feathered birds, I became bad luck. Cursed even. Because I’m the reason my parents died. I’m the reason they’re buried beneath the ground. I’m the reason they aren’t here anymore.

These guilty thoughts creep through my mind as I stand in front of the mirror, examining my long, dark hair that looks similar to the dark shade of a raven’s feather—midnight black, with hints of violet and blue when it catches the light. I can’t help questioning if I used to be a raven in another life. Perhaps that’s why

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