The Raven Four Books 1-3 - Jessica Sorensen Page 0,46

the black and white checkerboard floor.

“Holy mother of … Where the hell am I?" I gape at what I'm assuming is Honeyton glimmering in the distance below the hill that this house is perched on like some freakin' royal castle. Hills roll in the distance, and the sun has set, the midnight blue sky sparkling with silver stars and moonlight.

Shaking my head, I let the curtain go then return to the bed to get dressed.

Once I get my shorts, shirt, tights, and shoes on, I move to put on my jacket, but something doesn’t seem right. I lift the leather fabric up to my nose and breathe in. Then tears burn my eyes. It doesn’t smell like my mom’s perfume anymore, but like freshly fallen rain.

A tear slips from my eye as another piece of her is ripped away from me. But I hastily swipe it away and suck the tears back.

I don’t deserve to cry.

Not about this.

Blood on my hands.

My parents’ lifeless bodies in front of me on the floor.

I can’t remember how I got here. Can’t remember anything after my mom told me to hide. The police officer, though, staring at me right now, has a horrified look on his face, like he knows exactly what happened. Then he grabs me and jerks me toward him—

I blink, slightly gasping as the memory fades. I hate when I have random flashbacks. Hate that I can never put all the pieces together. Although, deep down, part of me fears what will happen—what I’ll see—if I ever remember everything. The police had their speculations. I’d been known to have a temper, just like my dad. And with the blood on my hands … it looked suspicious. There were also a couple of witnesses who said they saw me fighting with my parents earlier that day out in the front yard, something I don’t remember at all. Weirdly, though, those witnesses went off the radar, leaving the police with hardly any evidence against me, other than how they found me that day. But my lawyer argued that I could’ve easily just found my parents, that I panicked and tried to resuscitate them, and that’s why I had blood on my hands. That my hands didn’t put the knife wounds in their bodies.

I wish I believed him, but sometimes …

“I hate you!” I scream at my dad, a potent rage burning inside me. “I wish you’d just go away!”

Blood on my hands.

Freak.

Loser.

Murderer.

Swallowing hard, I lift the hem of my shirt and peer down at the scars marking my flesh.

Freak.

Loser.

Unwanted.

Ugly.

Tainted.

Murderer.

My uncle carved them into my flesh the very first day I pissed him off. He held me down and told me this is what my parents felt like when I carved them up. I didn’t shed a single tear. I took my punishment. I fucking hate my uncle.

Tugging down the hem of the shirt, I slip on the leather jacket then adjust my leather bands to make absolutely certain those scars are hidden. The guys have seen too much of my ugliness already. Then I walk over to an oval mirror hanging on the wall and glance at my reflection.

I look like shit; pallid with dark circles under my eyes and my hair a wavy mess. But it is what it is.

I exit the room to go find out what in the world is up with these guys. And what the hell sort of town this is that I just moved to.

Twelve

Raven

The room Jax told me to go to looks a lot like the room with a pool table. The main difference is a set of drums and a couple of guitars are perched in the corner, along with some sound equipment.

When I enter, Jax is over at a bar area, pouring himself a glass of what looks like whiskey, and Hunter and Zay are sitting on the couch, drinking whiskey and chatting about something. They don’t notice me come in, which I find kind of funny.

“You guys in a band or something?” I ask loudly, mostly to try to startle them. I do, too.

Zay nearly jumps out of his skin, and Hunter spins around on the sofa. Jax, though, doesn’t even so much as blink in my direction, capping the whiskey bottle then returning it to a shelf.

Yeah, that guy is seriously the most controlled person I’ve ever met, I decide right then and there. I wonder why. Just like I wonder why Zay is so moody and why Hunter is such a