I stared down at the tiny creature, watching him repeatedly try and fail to fly away from the soaked earth.
It was so wet its feathers no longer had their silk-like shine.
Exhausting so much energy, it paused every few seconds, beak still croaking the same weary tune.
Mother said these birds were an omen, a sign of death to come.
To me, it was pretty, like Ethan.
Majestic, like Declan.
And it was broken.
My hands’ danced by my sides’. The prospect of making this helpless creature whole again threatened to get the better of me.
I missed the feel of the needle between my fingertips.
This is it how it always begins. If I never felt anything in my entire life, I’d always feel…this. This force inside me I couldn’t name and struggled to control.
Shutting my eyes, I try to block out the raven and breathe the urge away.
But it’s no use that, has never worked.
I can feel it creeping deep beneath my skin.
It threatened to tear open my spine and spill out of me.
I needed release.
Or I would suffocate until I lost control again.
It happened with, Janice.
Dad, though. I told him I wouldn’t fix anything again.
But…I had to do something.
“I’ll make you better,” I told the raven, searching the ground.
I spotted a thicker stick, dark brown from the rain, and picked it up.
Approaching the bird, its beady eye watched me closely, and his fluttering stopped, almost as if he knew I was there to help.
I let my bag drop off my shoulder, and adjusted my grip on the stick.
“Bye, bye,” I whispered, bringing it down on the raven’s head.
The fluttering of its one wing stopped as abruptly as its final croak.
I tossed the stick aside and dropped to my knees, pulling over the weightless bag I’d thought was useless just minutes ago.
After ensuring it would stay open, I picked up the raven’s body and dropped him inside. He hit the bottom with a small thud.
Next, I drug my fingers through the dirt to scoop up the little bit of brain that had squirted from his head, dropping that in too.
I gave the bag a good shake to make sure everything was secure inside and then continued on my way. I’d fix him back at Dad’s before anyone got home.
I stepped from the woodland just as a large black SUV was passing by.
The driver abruptly hit the brakes, causing a loud screech to echo through the air.
The vehicle idled as I proceeded in its direction. This was the way I needed to go. Whatever reason they had for stopping so suddenly had nothing to do with me.
That is what I told myself as I passed the back bumper and rear door.
Except, the window rolled down, and when I looked over there was a familiar set of copper eyes staring back at me.
“Why are you walking in the rain? Are you trying to get sick? Know what, doesn’t matter.”
He leaned across the center console and opened the passenger door.
“I was on my way to your house, anyway. Get in.”
There was no reason to protest.
I was cold; water had soaked through my boots. Plus, I needed to be back as soon as I could.
I placed my bag on the seat and then climbed in. After shutting the door, I buckled my restraint and settled into the creamy leather seat.
“You’re not wearing a bra.”
Glancing over, I saw Ethan’s eyes trained on my chest.
Following his gaze, I noticed my shirt had become transparent from the rain. Dark circles were broadcast through the white material, little buds poking it up.
“No, I’m not,” I replied, staring through the windshield again.
“Jesus fuck, we’re going to have our hands full,” he muttered.
After adjusting something on the screen of his truck, my seat began to warm as he drove off.
A few minutes into the drive he cleared his throat and began to tap his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Uh, sweetheart. I’m not sure how to say this, but your bag is bleeding.”
It was impossible to miss what he was referencing. A deep red stain had spread across the side of my bag, leaking through the mocha colored material.
“What’s inside there?”
He didn’t sound intrusive, so I told him. “It’s my bird.”
“Okay. Not the answer I was expecting, but not bad either.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have told him.
He could tell.
“Dad will yell at me,” I said, placing the bag on my lap.
“He’s not going to yell at you.”
I didn’t know how he could be so sure about that. “I’m not supposed to do this anymore.”
“Do what?”
I gripped my bag tighter, flattening my lips into a straight line. I could say nothing else. This part was a secret.
“Helena.”
“It’s a secret.”
His grip tightened on the steering wheel for a few seconds before he nodded to himself.
“Does this have something to do with you fixing things?”
I turned my head so sharply; I felt something pinch in the back of my neck.
“He told you?”
“He’s told a few people,” Ethan replied.
Furrowing my brows, I looked down at my lap. The needle sensation tried to come back; I forced it to go away.
Dad said it was another secret to keep between us, just him and me.
Dad…lied.
“Hey.” Ethan reached over and placed his large hand on my knee. “How about you come to my place and fix your…uh…bird up there?”
I’d never considered doing something like that. Dad had told me no one would understand, yet Ethan was openly inviting me to his home after hearing what I was going to do.
Molly said he and Declan were dangerous.
What if she was wrong? What if they weren’t dangerous, but sick?
Sick like me.
The prospect was too good to be true and just as good not to find out.
“I need my kit,” I finally replied.
“We can grab it now.”
“And one of my stuffed animals.”
“….that too then.”
Satisfied, I remained quiet the rest of the drive. When we pulled into Dad’s driveway, Ethan stopped me from getting out with a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“Tell me where your things are, and I’ll get them.”
Looking at the colonial, all the lights were off, and there weren’t any cars in the driveway.
“Everyone is still gone,” I pointed out.
“All the more reason for me to get in and get out, tell me where these things of yours are.”
“Kit is in the bottom dresser drawer. My chest has my animals.”
“The doors unlocked?”
I nodded.
He undid his restraint and opened the car door, letting in a gust of cold rain and chilled air.
“I’ll be right back, sit tight.”
Another nod.
I watched him slide from the truck, the navy material of his button-down stretching as he did, accentuating the muscles beneath it.
I’d known he was in good shape from the previous night when I’d been so close to him. I had felt the solidness in his relaxed form.
He walked through the rain seemingly unbothered and entered Dad’s house.
Since he’d left his vehicle running, I fiddled with some of the onscreen options until I found the temperature control, turning the heat on low.
My toes were becoming numb.
By the time I had accomplished that, Ethan had returned.
He had my sewing kit wedged beneath one arm and was carrying a large trash bag in the other.
“This it?” he asked me after opening his door.
“Yes.” I accepted the red and
clear kit, placing it on my lap beneath my bag, and then the stuffed polar bear he’d grabbed.
“One more sec.” He hit a button located a little beneath his steering column.
There were a quick two beeps as the rear door of the SUV lifted.
The trash bag was tossed in the space, and then we were back on the road.
We listened to the radio for majority of the drive to his house.
He turned it down when I asked him where he lived.
I’d been staring out the window, recalling certain pieces of scenery from the previous night. The long and winding back road we had been traveling on for the duration of the drive was the first indication of where we were going.
“I live in a house behind the Dahlia with Declan,” he answered.
His response wasn’t all that unexpected. If the Andreou family were the owners of the large estate, it made sense to me that one of them would be sharing their living space with Ethan.
Château Dahlia
That was the name I’d seen on the silver plaque.
“I didn’t know people named their homes.”
His soft laugh filled the cabin. “The Dahlia is a very special place, much more than just a home.”
I would have questioned that further, but he was turning off the road and into the drive of our current topic.
He entered a code into a round metal box that made the iron gates swing open, and then proceeded towards the house.
It was dark now, sun long having set. The SUV’s headlights were the only thing that lit the path before us.
Ethan drove right by the massive structure that was no longer decorated in festive themes, passing the two other vehicles parked in the driveway.
Turning onto a narrower stretch of asphalt, he went back a little ways further.
After parking the SUV in front of a smaller, but still decent sized abode, he cut the engine.
“Home sweet home,” he announced, grabbing his key fob from the cup holder.
We got out at the same time, meeting in front of the hood.
The rain had turned into a slight drizzle, but the temperature had dropped even further, making it even colder than before.
My clothes were still semi-damp, making me feel the cold even more. I shivered as we walked up a smooth path, clutching my kit in both hands, bloody bag slung over my shoulder.
Once we reached the rounded front door, Ethan quickly unlocked it.
“Take your shoes and socks off here,” he said, gesturing for me to go in first.
I did as he said, placing my wet booties and soggy socks off to the side of the door.
There were two wall sconces on either side of the entryway that had been left on, casting a warm glow around me.
Wiggling my toes to get some warmth in them, I made my way down the hall, bare feet lightly thudding across espresso brown hardwood.
Walking deeper into the house, I studied as much of my surroundings as I could.
Upon leaving the entry hall, the lower level opened into a large freely flowing room.
Everything was black and chrome aside from the hardwood and the walls.
Those were wallpapered in gothic damask flock, dark and silver colored.
A living room was to the right; full of furniture that looked too nice to sit on with a large flat screen mounted above a gothic styled fireplace.
Straight back was a kitchen, separated from the rest of the room by a gleaming breakfast bar and barstools.
To the side of that sat a long dining table that had a very realistic skull centerpiece beneath a clear dome.
On the left, there was a curved staircase with a thick, black banister.
Two candelabra chandeliers hung high above, but neither was turned on.
“So, what do you think?” Ethan asked from behind me.
“It’s nice…and clean.” And manly.
“Were you expecting a pig-sty?” he laughed, stepping around me to flip on a light switch.
No.
It was apparent from the moment I saw them that he and Declan were too clean as individuals to dwell in filth. It didn’t fit them.
I kept that to myself, though.
“Where can I fix him?” I asked instead. That was the most important thing right then. I had to make my raven better.
“Hang on one more sec, k?” He brushed past me and jogged up the stairs.
There was the sound of an opening door and then nothing. He returned quickly with a smile on his face and a black T-shirt in his hand.
“Here, get out of those wet clothes and put this on. It will be like a nightgown on you.”
“Okay.” I agreed. I did want out of my wet clothing.
We swapped what each other were holding, my sewing kit for his shirt.
“There’s a bathroom right…”
I gently set my bag down and hurriedly removed my clothes.
The air in the house wasn’t that warm and caused goose-pimples to dot my naked skin.
Leaving the items in a damp bundle, I pulled the t-shirt over my head, leaving it to fall where it may.
Catching whiff of a nice scent, I pressed a part of the soft fabric to my nose and found it still faintly smelled of Ethan.
That wasn’t unpleasant.
It was…nice.
Brushing strands of my tangled hair back, I scooped my bag up and reached for my sewing kit.
Ethan didn’t let go when I tried to take it.
His eyes were still honed in on my person.
I’d felt them wandering when I changed, but he hadn’t said anything.
“You’re fucking gorgeous, Helena.” His voice sounded different. In a good way, though.
“So are you,” I replied, earning a chuckle and a smile.
He reached out and cupped my right cheek, trailing the pad of his thumb over the skin, to my lips.
His touch was warm and gentle, different than what I had grown accustomed to in the basement.
I would have let him touch me longer, as I found the sensation he evoked pleasant, but…my bird.
“Where can I fix him?”
Ethan swallowed, and his hand fell away; I wanted to put it back.
“Will the coffee table work?”
Glancing at the object in question, I nodded.
“Do you have a knife?”
“I think we’ve got one of those lying around.” He winked at me, released his hold on my kit, and then started for the kitchen.
While he retrieved the knife, I walked to where the coffee table was and began setting up.
I set the sewing kit on one end, and then I turned my bag upside down, allowing my raven, cellphone, polar bear, and a small bit of brain to fall onto the table’s glossy surface.
Now empty and of no use, I tossed the bag aside and knelt to open my kit.
Everything inside was just as I remembered.
It took me only a few seconds to select a sky blue spool.
Ethan brought a rimmed knife over as I was threading my needle.
His eyes skimmed over the table when he set it down, but he otherwise remained without commentary.
I’d never had an audience before, which had me glancing up at him every few seconds.
“You do your thing, baby girl. I’m going to start dinner.”
He cooks? Flitted through my mind as my mouth replied, “Okay.”
The moment his back turned I placed my threaded needle to the side and dragged my polar bear over.
Wrapping my fingers’ around the knife he gave me, I made quick work of my bear, gutting it empty of fluff.
Tearing sounds filled the air, mingling with the banging of pots and pans as Ethan prepped dinner.
When I was done, my polar bear resembled an empty burlap sack of faux fur.
Putting the stuffing by the spool and needle, I began on my raven.
It didn’t take much work to decapitate my little bird.
I started with the injured wing, snapping the rest of the thin white bones with
in as I pulled it away from the raven’s body, placing it by my pile of fluff.
The other wing I left alone.
It was the beak and head I needed to fix next.
Using a bit more effort, I removed the teeny skull I’d cracked in the front when I helped the raven go to sleep, wiping the blood and goop on Ethan’s shirt.
With the body ready, I grabbed some stuffing and began to ease into the raven’s headspace, recreating some volume.
I did the same with the open hole the wing had left behind. There was a lot of squishing and squelching.
I sewed everything together, wrapping thread around the broken beak to lift it back into place.
When the raven was whole again, I admired its glossy body, stroking its smooth belly.
There was that flare again, the one that came from fixing things. It made my chest warm instead of prickle. The best part was that the things I fixed never had to say thank you. I knew they appreciated what I did for them.
My sickness may not have been curable for me, but it had certainly come in handy for things like this.
For Mother, Buddy, this bird, my babysitter, my goldfish when I found them belly-up.
I remained petting my bird, never wondering what had kept Ethan so quiet the whole time I worked, oblivious to the cellphone recording me.
Chapter Fourteen
Declan
My phone vibrated twice inside my rear pocket.
I was too preoccupied to pay it immediate attention. Currently, I was dragging a lithe blonde out of one of the kennels; the bitch had just come in this morning, and her mouth had managed to piss off Mason and my Uncle.
She struggled against me as they all tended to do, twisting, hitting, and yelling.
“You know this is hurting you more than me, right?” I asked, keeping her in an iron headlock.
She choked, legs flailing behind her as I pulled her out into the hall.
I was eager, felt the anticipation pumping through my veins for what was to come tonight.
It paled in comparison to how elated I was with the knowledge Helena would be in my house, sooner than later in my bed.
Bypassing Mason’s red room, I grinned when I saw the light was no longer green.
He was getting an early start.
My l room was all the way at the end of the hall.
I dragged my unwilling new toy inside of it and shut the heavy, sound-proofed door with the toe of my shoe.
DEPRAVITY: Love Depraved Page 8
