Chapter 25
664words
In fact, none of the old little boxes has any mold on them. Just dust and cobwebs. Not even holes.
There's a number on top of all of them. The one I held says, 0.
"Open it."
I don't know why I listened. I don't even remember deciding to. My hand removed the lid.
Inside was a single black feather.
For a second, I almost wanted to laugh. That's it? A feather? My mother hid this? Was this what she was so scared of? A single black feather?
I opened another box. 1.
Another black feather. Was this really it? A single feather?
Another box. Box 2.
Black feather.
Box 4, 5, 6, all the way up to 17.
All of them were black feathers. Is this some type of joke? Melody Blackbird is scared of black feathers?!
For the first time in my life. I felt angry. Angry of my mother's stupidity!
I threw down the box and clenched my fists. The boxes rattled slightly on the floorboards.
All this time.
All the bruises.
All the shouting.
All the sleepless nights.
All the times I stayed quiet, pretending I didn't exist,
for THIS?!
What a dumb thing to be scared of! A black feather! Who would've thought! Mere feathers were her fear.
.... Well.... There's no reason to be in here anymore.
I sighed and closed the closet. I walked out and went to my room. I looked out my window and watched a guy chasing a woman.
The man caught the woman by her arm, his fingers digging deep enough to leave purple bruises. She screamed loudly. But no one came. No one ever comes to help in the Underbelly. Down here, it's either you kill, be killed, or avoid and ignore.
He yanked her back, snarling something incoherent, and swung his blade. The knife hissed, glinting for an instant under the flickering signs before it went into her shoulder. The energized knife went through easily. Her body jerked and she fell to the ground, clutching the wound. I could smell the metallic stench of blood seeping through my window.
I didn't look away. Couldn't. It was too much entertaining to look away. It was... beautiful.
The man crouched down beside her, grabbing a fistful of her hair, and jerked her head back.
"You really think you could run away from me? Huh, bitch?!" he shouted, his spit flecked to her cheek.
She didn't answer. Just sobbed, trembling, her blood pooling around her knees.
"Stop it Liam. Just, get away before-"
"Shut the hell up!" He yelled, slamming her head against the cracked concrete. Then he started stomping on her back, over and over again. I could hear the crunch of bone giving way under his boot, the ragged gasps of her lungs collapsing.
But then, something changed.
Her cries faltered, deepened, became guttural. A low, animal growl began to rumble from her chest. Her fingers clawed at the ground, nails tearing off as her hands contorted, bones shifting beneath her skin. Patches of coarse fur erupted along her arms, spreading fast. Her eyes flared an unnatural color.
"The hell? You're a... you're a bea-"
He never finished the sentence. She lunged. The knife clattered away from him somewhere on the ground. She slammed him down, pinning him. Then, there was a wet crack, and then a gurgling sound.
She tore his throat out in one swift motion. Blood sprayed across the walls. Then it was quiet, except for her heavy breathing.
.... What a delightful show.
Note: Sorry this one is very short. I am juggling life and also writers block. Please bear with me. My schedule will be really irregular.
