Chapter Five
Raven.
The music hall is empty and the closer I get to the locker room where I was left for dead, the more I can smell the piss, the blood, hear my whimpers, my ragged breathing, taste the rag that was shoved into my mouth as a gag – the more my wrists and my leg begin to hurt and my heart feels like it’s cracking and my stomach drops through the floor.
I think of everything but what happened here as I pass that room until I hear a familiar broken-hand rendition of Max Amlitzer’s Ghost Lullaby.
How fitting.
I stop at the music room that holds the old grand piano, chairs crescent to it, waiting to be filled with students eager to learn and fully master the instruments that sing what they can’t say.
The leather jacket draped over my arm feels as heavy as a boulder and I know I should have come sooner to see him, the man that saved me, but… I just couldn’t.
Kill those who tried to kill me, sure.
Leave them lying in their blood and piss - absolutely.
But him? Lex?
The man who found me after I’d been assaulted, locked in a locker, and left for dead for sixty-five hours? The man who sheltered me with the jacket dangling from my arm from nosey paparazzi?
Suffice it to say I’ve been a coward. Because seeing him makes it all more real.
He slips a key but continues as if he hadn’t, shoulders hunched, head tilting side to side, lost in the music flowing through him.
It’s magic, to watch a musician play and get lost in their own world.
I spot a violin in an open case, probably his.
Setting the jacket on a chair, I slip quietly through and grab it, balancing it on my shoulder, tucking it beneath my chin, dragging the bow after placing my fingers on the proper strings, and play along.
It’s a little late for a jam session, I guess.
But it’s better late than never. He eyes me and inhales sharply, never stopping, never faltering.
Just plays with more emotion. Even when the song is over, he loops it one last time, chocolate eyes glassy behind his glasses, blinking rapidly.
We play and play until we’re both in tears and our fingers hurt.
He's bald now.
He looks tired.
Older.
He finally stops, unmoving, and then sighs, like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and then looks up, searching the ceiling for… who knows what. If he’s looking for angels, he is one. If I never believed in them, he made me a believer.
Days in that fucking locker I thought my shadow would come for me. Save me. Help me. I mean it watched over me for years and when I actually needed my shadow to take me away, it failed me. Instead, it was-
“Raven.” My name is hoarse on Lex’s lips, full of emotion and gratitude, and if I could speak full sentences without over-exerting my vocal cords, his name on mine would sound the same.
I put the violin away, grab the jacket I left on the chair, and step slowly toward him but instead of reaching for his jacket, he pulls me in for a hug.
It’s tight and fatherly and he still smells like cloves and spice.
There are no haunting memories for me when I look at him, only warmth and gratitude.
“I heard you were back on campus; I hoped you’d come to see me.”
I point to my throat.
He frowns. I don’t like it. “I see. You let them take away your voice.”
‘Let’ is a strong word. I want to say. But I don’t. I just blink back more tears.
He eyes me, up and down, and then frowns again when he catches the jacket in my hand.
I can see the memories fluttering behind his eyes.
How he saw me. Covered in my own blood and filth, tied up and gagged, throwing this goddamn jacket over me in a failed attempt to protect my modesty.
He shakes his head. “I gave that to you.”
This jacket was a physical reminder of the worst day of my life. The day I was so wonderfully found only to die for a full minute and seventeen seconds once I reached the hospital - something that the tabloids were never told and who was I to tell anyone?
Who was I to say, “I died… and I loved it?”
I always felt my shadow, always felt that ticking time bomb over my head, telling me I’d be going soon and I had welcomed it.
I had… accepted I was going to die. But when I died, it wasn’t incredible.
It wasn’t some otherworldly experience, and all I remember is feeling safe, feeling warm, comfortable… and not alone.
It's not something you can tell anyone, I was scared they were going to throw me in Lorne Wood Falls’ Mental Institution…
but they did that anyway only a few days later when that nurse grabbed my wrist which hadn’t healed yet from being held tightly by zip-ties and they dubbed me an unfit patient, prone to violent, psychotic fits due to PTSD.
I wonder why.
I make a show of holding the jacket a little closer to my chest in a hug and a faint smile ghosts my lips.
I reach out and place a hand on Lex’s shoulder and squeeze then let it drop.
I knew he had to speak with the police after he found me and was taken in as a suspect until the cameras showed the four masked figures entering the building. This building.
“It took me a long time to come back here, too, you know?”
I did know. But I let him keep talking.
“I couldn’t face coming in here… I tried to keep you safe but they still got pictures of you.
The one time I didn’t have my hearing aid turned on all the way up…
you needed me.” He shakes his head as if shaking away his memories.
“And now bodies are dropping…” He looks up at me, brown eyes dark and full of wisdom, putting it all together but there’s no judgement in his eyes, more like…
pride , and he simply nods. “Never liked those Prescott boys. The Whitmore boy… his wife…” He grimaces, the crinkles around his eyes more prominent, then Lex shakes his head, still staring at me.
“I’m old, sweet girl, but I remember a lot. ”
It’s true. Lex was a prodigy and what makes him incredible is that he has an eidetic and echoic memory. He can hear or see something once and remember it immediately.
“You were meant to get out of here and fly, blackbird. Far away. Berklee… Julliard… away from your parents and your stepbrother…” He shakes his head again and sighs, taking my hand and squeezing it.
“You do what you have to and then never come back here. Do you understand? The people here… they’ll be out for blood. ”
I take a step back. I do know. They’re getting closer and I can feel it.
But in the meantime… I lie the jacket back down on the nearest chair and swing my backpack around to my front, pulling out a binder.
And take out the six sheets of music full of notes, front and back.
The entire reason I had Jonas bring me to school with him while he went to practice this early.
Lex only cleans the music hall before classes and after.
Never throughout the day. It's why I hadn't bumped into him sooner. Why it was easier to avoid him.
“What’s this?”
I point to the piano and grab my cello case, popping the lid and hauling it out.
“You wrote this?”
I nod.
He takes a second and scans the notes I’ve scribbled on. A curt nod later and “Okay. Let’s play.”
I sit on the leather jacket eagerly as he sits on the sleek, black piano bench and wait as Lex plays the first morose notes, slow and somber and I wait for my turn to begin, my heart an aching mess at hearing it how it’s meant to be played.
Because there’s nobody else I’d rather see help bring my death lullaby to life, than the man that saved mine.
________
Walking to Maverick’s class fills me with absolute dread.
But I’ve missed enough of his classes and it’s time to face the music.
Jonas is already waiting for me outside of the doorway like a beacon of light with a coffee from the Koffee Kart in hand.
Whatever heartache I have, I need to put it aside for now.
Finals are coming up before the winter break and I have more than studying on my mind.
Like Simon Hoover.
Jacob Cartwright is dead. Accident.
Tyler Prescott – alleged suicide.
Thaddeus Whitmore II and Ashleigh Whitmore – murder/suicide.
Chase Prescott was a necessary evil, but he’s also dead – accidental overdose.
As Jonas and I jot our names on the sign-in sheet and make it to our usual seats, it feels surreal. It was only three months ago Maverick did me this kindness, one he didn’t have to do, and now here we are, strangers again.
Strangers that know the darkness inside the other, whose souls have twisted and collided, marked the other… but strangers, nonetheless. Once everyone is signed in and seated, the lights are turned off and an interview begins to play.
I take out my notebook to take notes, feeling eyes on me and when I flick my gaze to Maverick, he turns behind his podium to face the interview, ignoring me .
Does he know I’m the one who was dancing for Steven Prescott at Inferno?
He must know. He watched from the darkest part of the room and even through the mesh in the eyeholes of my mask, I could feel his eyes boring into mine even from across the debauchery.
Our connection was that strong. He was mine and I was his, even if it included two others.
I knew I needed to give him space but I don’t want space anymore.
I miss him. Maybe I’m being a brat, maybe I just want his undivided attention, want him to spank me and withhold my orgasms and be brutal with me because that’s when I know he loves me most. When he bullies me before, praises me during while degrading me, and then holds me so tenderly afterward, petting me for being such a good girl.
I squeeze my thighs together, remembering the evening before the detective went to him, how Maverick had tied my wrists to his headboard, being so encouraging when I would try to pull away, but his voice would bring me back down from the brink of insanity only to edge me over and over again, to finally allow me to come when he was sheathed deep inside me, leaning over me, my back arched, his arms under my body, hands in my hair, holding me close, looking into my eyes and demanding my soul.
I gave it freely.
The next morning, I thought he had felt the same while we were lying in bed, sweat dried on our bodies, smelling like the other…
until he pulled away from me so quickly and began acting cold and closed off.
I had decided that morning to tell him everything .
Jonas came home, and we studied. I had waited around for hours for Maverick to show up even after Damon showed up and told us he had taken care of Dean Whitmore.
I wasn’t going to blab Damon’s nor Jonas’ sins – just mine. Because if he decided to turn me in, I would have accepted my fate.
When he came home while I was upstairs pacing back and forth in his room, ready to spill my secrets and accept his wrath but instead of asking me for my story, he asked Damon .
Damon, who ended up saying truthful, harsh things that only angered Maverick. But it seems Maverick and I… while tasting each other’s souls, we were still keeping secrets from the other.
We were either doomed from the start and there’s no way to get past this, or we can overcome this together but it won’t happen while we’re apart.
I’m so lost in thoughts and memories of Maverick, by the time the lights come back on the classroom brightens and my eyes try to adjust, I realize I haven’t written anything down.
I have no idea who our Nurture VS. Nature debate will be on.
I bite on my lower lip and feel my brows bunch together.
Maverick glances at me for just a second.
“Class is dismissed.”
I stay behind, shooing Jonas away, lingering in the threshold of Mav’s office, the door is open and he sits behind his desk, elbows perched, glasses off, rubbing his temples.
He looks sad and a little lost. More memories flood me and all I want to do is crawl into his lap, or crawl underneath his desk and simply comfort him by letting him know he still has me, he isn’t alone. Not anymore. Never again...
I watch for a moment before gathering the courage to knock on his door. My mouth wants to say words. I can feel it in the way my tongue wiggles, saliva wetting it in preparation to speak but when eyes like deep forest moss meet mine, I swallow it down, words stuck in my throat.
“Yes?” He eyes me with a cool indifference. A mask. No longer do his peridot eyes darken to emeralds when he peruses me, nor do his eyes narrow. No. He studies and looks at me as though I’m just another silly little fangirl, wanting to suck the hot professor’s cock.
And so nothing. Nothing comes out. No words. Not even a squeak. Just aggravation at myself rising. My stupidity. My cowardice. My need to make it better but I don’t know how. I shake my head in defeat and turn to go, blinking back tears so he doesn’t see them. So Jonas doesn’t see them.
I’m weak .
I pray I hear him call out to me, to come back, to get on my knees and crawl to him… but he doesn’t. It’s just more silence between us, dividing us. I groan inwardly. I can’t believe I’m dying to be back under his desk in his study warming his cock with my mouth while he grades papers.
I almost whine like a dog I want it so badly.
As if he knew the outcome, I find Jonas waiting for me, leaning against the wall outside of class and he simply takes my hand in his. I let him guide me away, swallowing my emotions down, down, down.