Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
RAVEN
Five Years Ago
The air still tasted like fire, every breath leaving my lips scraping my throat raw. The small bag my mom shoved into my hands dragged across the floor as I blindly crawled toward the back window, my arms shaking and my knees catching on broken plaster.
The apartment was unrecognizable. The kitchen wall was gone, and the smell of gas mixed with something metallic.
“Mom!” I tried to shout, but it came out as a croak. My ears were still ringing.
“Keep going,” she whimpered from somewhere, her voice faint just as the ceiling gave another shuddering groan and the world folded in on itself.
I wanted to go back. God, I wanted to. But the heat drove me forward, the smoke clawing at my lungs until I couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. So I kept moving.
I crawled through the jagged hole where the window used to be, dragging myself through it and falling down onto the hard, hot pavement. The silence was in such contrast to the havoc inside, and for a moment, I stood disoriented, my gaze darting around in panic.
Outside, the skies were blue and the air was humid, its heat feeling just as searing as the air inside the building. My eyes dragged up, hoping my mom would be right behind me, but she wasn’t there. I stood there, my feet glued to the ground, terrified to leave without her.
But then the sound of sirens in the distance registered.
“Don’t look back, Raven. Promise me,” were her last words to me, her eyes too calm for the chaos around me.
I promised her, but I didn’t know if I could fulfill it.
I gave the window one last look, half expecting to see her silhouette there, but found it empty.
My chest ached and my lungs burned as I turned away.
I stumbled through the narrow back streets, glancing over my shoulder with every step, until the city swallowed me whole and I became just another shadow among millions.
Here I was, walking through the streets, smoke still in my hair and ash on my skin. People stared ahead, as they often did in big cities, feigning not to see me. It served my purpose today.
Every step away from that building felt like betrayal. I kept seeing my mom’s face, how she urged me toward the window and freedom, how she didn’t follow. The guilt was a living thing inside me, heavy and sharp. I should’ve dragged her with me. I should’ve fought harder.
My whole life, somehow she’d known when it was time to run, and now I had to keep running.
I reached the post office, my reflection in the door greeting me. It showed a stranger, hollow-eyed and terrified, with smears of ash on my cheek.
My fingers were trembling so badly I could barely dig through my bag to find the key to the P.O. box. Fitting it into the keyhole was an even bigger challenge.
The lock finally clicked, and I opened the box.
The first thing I saw was a brown envelope, my name scrawled across it in my mother’s handwriting. My throat tightened until I couldn’t breathe.
I slipped the envelope out and opened the note with shaking fingers. Inside it were documents, money, and a folded sheet of paper.
If you’re reading this, it means your father has found us and I’m gone. You’ll have to go on alone. Don’t let them find you.
In this box, you’ll find everything you need to help you disappear: money, documents, contacts for your new life.
Be careful who you trust.
Hide in plain sight.
You’re stronger than you think.
Please know that you’ve made me so proud. More than you think.
Love you so much,
Mom
The paper blurred as my tears fell onto the ink. I pressed the note against my chest, wishing it could still be warm from her hands.
For a long time, I just stood there, staring at the note. I wanted to crumble, to sink to the floor and let the weight of everything crush me. But I couldn’t. There’d be time for that later.
I tucked the letter and all its contents into the bag, and then I slipped outside.
It was my first step toward turning invisible.