Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
RAVEN
S itting in the library parking lot with my car facing the elementary school, I wait to hear the bell ring, indicating the end of the school day. Instead, my phone vibrates in the cupholder.
Dahlia: How did job hunting go?
Me: I got hired at a bar.
Dahlia: Did you flash your tits or something?
I can’t help but laugh at her crude humor. Dahlia has always been the one ready with a joke to lighten the mood, and we needed all the lightheartedness we could get at that time.
Me: No. He thought I was cute. Are you still able to answer the phone if someone calls?
Dahlia: Duh. I got your back, babe.
Me: Thanks. Be safe. Love you!
Dahlia: You too.
My rear passenger door pops open, and I jump, dropping my phone on the floor. Glancing in my rearview mirror, I find Noah buckling his seat belt. I didn’t even hear the school bell. Leaning down to retrieve my phone, I try not to sound like I’m out of breath.
“How was school?”
“Did you get a job today?” Noah is purposely ignoring my question.
“What happened? You were excited to go to school this morning. You practically shoved me out the door.”
Noah stares out his window. “Nothing that hasn’t happened before,” he mumbles.
“What do you mean?”
He sighs. “Nothing. Can we just go home?”
I know he’s purposely avoiding my question. He usually answers in his own time, but I can’t help but worry.
“Okay. Sure. But we have to stop at the store first.” Shifting the car into drive, I turn onto Main Street. The grocery store isn’t that far from the library.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Noah accuses innocently. He used to be quieter and more reserved, but ever since we left New York, he’s more talkative. His filter is basically gone. It has put me in some awkward situations, but it’s good to see him opening up.
“And you didn’t answer mine,” I rib back, hoping to get at least a hint of a smile. When he doesn’t return the joke, I answer, “Yes, I got a job. I actually got two. One at the library and one at a place called The Wandering Raven.”
He doesn’t respond. His eyes are absently staring out the window.
When I pull into a spot in the grocery store parking lot, I unbuckle and reach for Noah, placing my hand on his knee. “Talk to me, little king. What happened?”
He doesn’t acknowledge my plea and keeps his focus fixed on the tinted glass.
“Noah. Look at me, please.” He concedes, and I’m gifted with the view of his ebony irises.
“I’m here. I’m always going to be here. I wasn’t before, and I know you understand why.
” The ache in my chest threatens to drag me under as my eyes look over the healed cut on his face.
“But I’m not going anywhere anymore. All those men are dead or in prison.
And I will spend every day for the rest of my life making up for all the times I couldn’t be there before. ”
Tears line his lower lashes, but he doesn’t let them spill over. Noah swallows a few times before he finally lets the truth free. “A boy in my class got everyone to call me Freddy Kruger.”
Fucking cruel kids.
I hold my body perfectly still as I keep my ire in check. “Did you talk to your teacher about it?”
He shakes his head.
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to be a tattletale,” he admits.
“Has this happened before?”
He answers with a nod.
“Is that why you took all the snacks this morning?”
Another nod.
I let my shoulders drop, not realizing that I had them so tensed. “I’ll talk to your teacher about it, but I need you to do the same, okay?”
“I guess,” he agrees.
“Noah, what those kids are doing is not okay. It’s bullying. If we don’t stop them, it’ll just continue, and they’ll do it to other kids too. Talking with your teacher can only help.”
He twists his lips from side to side, thinking through what I’ve said. “Okay. I’ll try.”
“That’s my little king.” This time, he gives me a smile at the use of his nickname. “Do you want to call Margaret and August when we get home? I know you miss them.”
Noah brightens at the idea. “Yes, please.” We get out of the car together and walk hand in hand toward the store. “What are we getting?”
“Well, someone stole all the goodies from our pantry, so we need to replace them,” I tease.
Noah tries hiding his smile by scrunching his face. But when I tickle his stomach, he lets his laugh ring free. It’s a sound I’ll never tire of. It means he’s happy. It means he’s safe. And I will do whatever is necessary to keep him laughing.
We snag a shopping cart as I inform him, “I was thinking we could try making spaghetti tonight.”
Noah gives me a skeptical look. “What if it turns out like the hamburgers?”
I groan.
Being a full-time mom means I’m learning how to cook for the first time in my life. Growing up, I didn’t have to cook for myself, and I spent the last few years relying on protein bars. So, I’ve been trying to learn from Pinterest and the cooking channel. Unfortunately, I need a lot of help.
“We agreed never to speak about what happened with the hamburgers,” I remind him playfully.
We meander up and down the aisles as I check the recipe on my phone over and over, making sure we get all the right ingredients. As I reach for a second can of tomato sauce, a man in a three-piece pretentious suit catches my eye. The glimpse is enough for me to lose my grip and fumble with the can.
The man shows signs of aging since the last time I saw him seven years ago.
He has more white in his hair, but he still walks with an air of self-importance that makes my pulse elevate.
He stands at the end of the aisle with another man, who’s also wearing a suit.
They wear fake smiles as they discuss what I’m sure is a menial subject.
I’m too far away to know for sure. But I don’t miss the little bag with crimson pills in his hand as he tries to hide it in a handshake.
As quickly as the exchange began, it ended.
The customer walks out of the store without purchasing any groceries.
Placing the can in the cart, I keep my eyes fixed on the monster who used to torment me for fun. I remember the first time I sat in his office…
“Why don’t we talk about why you’re here, Raven?” He crosses his legs and rests his black leather notepad in his lap.
I grind my teeth, locking my jaw to keep the rage-filled words from coming out.
When I was forced here, I learned quickly that if I keep my mouth shut, then the orderlies leave me alone…
for the most part. Flexing my fingers, I attempt one more time to get free of the restraints keeping me in the cold metal chair.
He removes his glasses and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I won’t know how to help you if you won’t talk to me.”
Still refusing to speak, I roll my lips inward.
He sighs and motions to the large man wearing blue scrubs in the corner. The man steps forward, pulling my hair so I’m forced to look up at the ceiling.
“You leave me no choice, my beautiful Blackbird,” the psychiatrist says as if this whole situation is my fault. He pulls a syringe from the tray next to him and walks toward me.
“Mom?”
I blink away the red fog clouding my vision and look down at Noah, who is tapping on my leg. “Hmm?”
“Are you okay?” His brows scrunch together.
Running my hand over his hair and bringing my attention back to our grocery list, I reassure him, “Yeah. Yeah, little king. I’m fine. We only have a few more things to get.”
“Mom,” Noah grumbles.
I jokingly roll my eyes. “I know, I know.”
Satisfied that I’ve been fully admonished, Noah asks, “What else do we need?”
Pulling out my list, I scan it. “Looks like we just need to get spaghetti noodles and then we’re done.”
“I know where those are!” Noah exclaims. He bounds down the aisle before I can tell him to slow down.
“Noah!” I race after him, trailing behind him to the next aisle over. “You can’t just run away from—Oh!” My face pales as Noah accidentally runs into someone. As I realize who it is, my teeth grind together—Dr. Lewis Whitlock.
My stomach bottoms out, and I freeze in place. It’s as if I’m being confronted by a coiled rattlesnake, ready to strike. Sudden movements will make him lash out, but he might do that anyway. That’s the way of the snake. I’m out of options.
“Sorry, sir,” Noah expresses with remorse reflecting in his eyes.
“Well, hello there, buddy. I think I’m in your way.” Dr. Whitlock bends down with his hands on his knees to get his face level with Noah’s.
Don’t you dare, you sick monster.
“Come here, Noah,” I demand in my mom voice. Noah scrambles over to me, and I put my arm around him, securing him in my embrace.
Screw the snake. This mama will step on him and break his neck.
Dr. Whitlock stands up straight. “He’s a beautiful boy,” he remarks, and I hold my breath, keeping a mask over my fury.
I’ve imagined this moment for so many years. I’ve imagined what I would say and do. I want to let every dark secret, every depraved act out into the light. I want everyone to know what kind of man Dr. Lewis Whitlock truly is.
But this isn’t the time or the place. That time will come, and I will end him.
Permanently.
“Excuse us,” I assert curtly. Placing Noah’s hands on the cart with mine, we turn and head for the checkout line.
“But Mom, we still?—”
“Not now,” I cut off Noah with a harsher tone than I mean to, but it doesn’t deter him.
“We need the noodles,” he persists.
“We’ll order pizza instead,” I negotiate, and he seems satisfied with my answer.
Noah helps me push the cart all the way to the checkout line. As we load our items onto the conveyor belt, a prickling sensation travels up my spine. The doctor’s gaze has always made me feel like I need to shower to wash away the grimy fantasies I can see swirling in his brain.
I need to be careful. If he recognizes me, my plan is blown. But even if he does, I’ll still make sure Mystic River Psychiatric Hospital closes for good.