Raven Miller Project

by Mary Ramsey

  No, it was so much worse. I could remember times when I would leave him alone with a female visitor only to come back to him clutching his colostomy port in pain. They had all been hurting him. And I had let them; every person I’d trusted had hurt him. I had let them kill my father. I deserved to die.

  The group of women bound me to a chair. I was sobbing so hard I couldn’t have fought back even if I tried. My mother lifted my face. “I always knew he would choose you.” She patted my cheek with one hand, while holding a blender filled with a thick red liquid. “When a slave dies, the final piece is his alone to offer.” She had cut up the heart, somehow mixing it with raw red blood. “Will you honor him by consuming the last of his flesh?”

  I started to cough, but my chest was wrapped so tight I couldn’t breathe. I vomited down my chest. I had not eaten much, so the fluid was mostly water and stomach acid.

  “Julia, she clearly doesn’t want it!” said a voice in the crowd.

  Others groaned in agreement. “Just eat the damn thing yourself!”

  “I always could,” my mother replied, looking me in the eyes. “He’ll just go through my digestive system like the others. Or his power could be a catalyst for you.”

  I took a deep breath and swallowed hard, tasting the bile in my throat. I had to believe I was strong enough, but I couldn’t stop the tears. “Fine! I-I’ll do it. I’ll take a sip.” It was the least I could do for him.

  I closed my eyes and leaned my head forward since my arms and legs were bound. My mother proceeded to dump the entire cup on my face, letting the chunky blood fall into my mouth as I struggled to breathe. The pain was intense. A burning in my chest followed by a migraine. Suddenly I was standing in the middle of another memory. Except this was not mine. This was a replay of my father’s death.

  I was standing over my father’s dying body. His slender form was curled into a fetal position as he shivered uncontrollably. He was so sick with fever his eyes were rolling back into his head.

  My mother walked her fingers down his shoulder to his back. “When you die, no one will miss you. How does that feel? To know you will leave behind nothing in this world.”

  My father held his hand in a fist. He was hiding something, the one thing they were not allowed to take from him. “No one leaves the world unchanged.”

  “Says who?” my mother laughed.

  “The Lord helps those who have the strength to prevail,” my father muttered. He gripped the cross tightly as she reached to handcuff him.

  “Pathetic man, you grip your cross, beg your God!”

  With one quick motion, he forced his hand to his mouth and swallowed the necklace whole. I could see the bones in his chest as he violently convulsed, choking down each bead of the rosary.

  My mother stripped naked, joining him in the bed. “After all these years, I’ve yet to hear you scream. I’ll settle for your tears and perhaps your pure, beautiful heart.” She forcibly kissed his mouth.

  With the last of his strength, my father spit in her face. This caused laughter to erupt from all over the room. More women came in. They were all shapes and sizes, but they all wore silver masks. Some had their mouths exposed while others did not.

  Those who wore full gimp masks got to go first. His hands were secured behind his back with wire that cut into his skin. Women took turns touching him, scraping his skin with nails and knives. They seemed to be oddly gentle about it, causing my father more pleasure than pain, until his eyes rolled back in his head.

  As the blood loss increased, he thrashed about, coughing so hard, I could see his body struggling to take in air. I knew he was having a seizure. I walked through the crowd like a ghost, passing through body after body until I reached my father’s side. “It’s okay, Dad. I’m here.” I could feel his fingers move. He was caressing my hand. “You’re not alone. I won’t let you go through this alone.” My father was still alive. He held my hand. I knew he was crying. “I love you so much, Dad.” I could feel the moment his heart gave out. His body started to rapidly degrade. His skin turned grey, transparent and tight against his bones.

  Knowing their time was short, the women started to tear in his corpse, grabbing chunks of flesh and bone. They were devouring him like a piece of meat. With a pain-stricken heart, I reached in, passing my hand through their bodies until I felt a bone. I figured it was a rib, or maybe part of his sternum. I gripped it in my hand as his body turned to dust. If anyone deserved to keep a piece of him, it was me.

  They’d taken everything. And why? Because they could. Men are weak. And those who are pure of heart are even weaker. He could have left her at any time. But he stayed, for me.

  Love made him weak.

  No, love made him brave.

  Love makes us all brave. I blinked my eyes, once then twice. I was back at the funeral with my hands still bound. The crowd just stared.

  “All hail our newest daughter!” The crowd cheered and then applauded.

  “You will enjoy this life, I promise you.” My mother stroked my face. “Because you and me, we’re one and the same.”

  The very idea made me sick. “I don’t think so.” I flung my arm forward, stabbing my mother in the throat with whatever was in my hand. I assumed it was the bone. But stepping away, I could see it was the cross from my father’s rosary, now covered in gore. I couldn’t help but laugh.

  Somehow, my hands were completely free. Had my mother untied me? Or had I somehow managed this all on my own?

  This is my gift, my power, my destiny.

  All hail the queen.

  I’ll make you proud, Dad.

  Love,

  Raven Miller

  Chapter 6

  I awoke in an uncomfortable pullout bed. My heart was pounding. My heart? Am I alive? I felt alive; discomfort, pain. The sun cracked through the window, revealing a sparse one-room camper-trailer. There was a bed, a sink, a toilet, and a freestanding hotplate in place of any kind of kitchen. I threw off the thin flannel blanket.

  That was when I realized what I was wearing; a long sleep shirt and plain white underwear. It was appropriate for the abnormally hot weather, but I figured I should put on some pants before going exploring. I opened drawer after drawer, revealing bright, colorful clothes. They were in various states of disrepair, and judging by the tags, they were all from Walmart. At the bottom of the lowest drawer was a military uniform with the name Greyson.

  “Nate!” I shouted. He had to be here. The very idea filled my heart with joy.

  “You up, babe?” shouted a familiar voice.

  “Yeah, Nate.” I cupped my hand over my mouth, trying not to cry. “Where are you?”

  “Outside, just enjoying the sun.”

  I could hear his voice so clearly. Pants or no pants, I needed to go outside. Opening the front door, I was greeted with a thick, humid wave of heat. Somehow, although the trailer had no visible air conditioner, the cheap-looking walls seemed to have kept out the majority of the native weather. The air was uncomfortably warm, not unlike an oven. Was this Arizona, Nevada? No, those places were dry. This was a moist, humid heat; maybe Florida or Mississippi.

  Just outside the door was a man in a wheelchair, chain-smoking while looking into the bright morning sun. He wore an open blue button-down shirt, revealing his emaciated chest and a visible chemo port. “Hey, Raven. Sleep well?”

  I was frozen in place. This was a vision of Nate that I’d never seen before. He looked weaker, sicker, but at the same time strangely content. “Yeah, you?”

  “Just enjoying this beautiful day.” He reached out his arm, inviting me in for an embrace.

  I took him up on his offer, sitting on his lap. Nate felt thin, frail, but he was alive, living breathing, speaking. My hand was shivering as I touched his ring finger. Were we married? “Today is really beautiful.”

  He patted my back, and his hand felt rough but soft, tender. “Could you call out, take the day off work? I feel like I never get to see you.”

  I have a job?
“What was that?”

  “I know money has been tight, and you don’t have any sick days, but,” he said with a shrug, “I kind of miss just holding you like this.”

  “Yeah, absolutely,” I said happily. “I’d love to skip work.” Then a realization hit me; I didn’t know where I worked. “Nate, baby, I’m still kinda sleepy, do you know where I keep the work number?”

  “I think it’s in your phone under ‘fuck this place.’ Unless you changed it.” He held me closer, bringing my head to his shoulder. “But that would mean you’d have to go inside, and I’m not ready to let you go.”

  At that moment, I tried to convince myself that everything past meeting Nate had been a dream. He never died. I never went insane with power and killed his ex-wife. I never stole her baby. Lola was not my daughter. Annie was not my wife. I was a nurse who ran away with the man I love to live in a trailer in an abnormally warm part of the world.

  But then why did I not know what city or state I was in?

  “Nate.” I pressed to my lips to his ear, taking in his familiar smell. “How much do you think it would cost to take a cruise to Alaska, from where we are?”

  “Alaska?” He laughed. “You know I wouldn’t last a day in Alaska. That’s why we moved back to the deep South.”

  “The deep South,” I echoed, trying not to sound like it was a question.

  “You’re happy here, right? I mean, not ‘happy.’” Nate made the finger quotes as his voice turned slightly nervous. “I know you’re not overjoyed to be in Mississippi or working at Walmart. But at least we’re together; we have each other.”

  “Of course.” I was a little disappointed. Mississippi was not a place I would ever agree to. Although I kind of liked the idea of the trailer; a temporary home that we could pick up at a moment’s notice. Or could we?

  While the trailer had some magic source of AC, it had no wheels. It was never meant to be moved. So, I was essentially trapped in Mississippi. My stomach sank. “I think I’m going to go find my phone.” There had to be more clues on my phone.

  Nate held me tighter. “Or we can take a drive. Maybe seeing me would sway your latest supervisor’s mind.”

  “Um, sure, that sounds fun.” I looked around for a car, our car. It was a beat-up Ford truck. I was prepared to get off Nate’s lap, but much to my surprise he started to wheel us to the car, with an unexpected amount of upper-body strength.

  Nate spun me around with flirtatious confidence. “Do you want me to drive?”

  “Uh, sure.” I still wanted my phone, or at least the chance to get to it. “I’m going to go check inside for my cell. Even if it’s dead, I just like having it.” I kissed Nate’s cheek, soft and slow, brushing my lips against his rough stubble. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

  I went inside and located the nearest electrical outlet, looking for a place where my phone would be charging. There, I found a late-model smartphone from a company I’d never heard of. The image on the lock screen was of Nate and me kissing. My ring finger was facing the camera, twirling a lock of my hair. Cute.

  I walked back to the truck, going for the passenger-side door. Once I saw the interior of the vehicle it all made sense; the two seats were specially designed for Nate’s limited mobility.

  He was able to pull himself into the driver’s seat and drive using mainly his arms. “Babe, do me a favor and load up my wheelchair, just in case.”

  “Just in case?” Was he not paralyzed? “Yeah, sure.” I loaded his wheelchair into the truck bed and off we went to Walmart.

  The drive was quiet, uneventful. We passed miles of dead grass, trailer parks, and gas stations. I took the opportunity to scan through my phone. Hopefully, there were more pictures, maybe even a few saved messages. We apparently got married in Las Vegas, at one of those quickie chapels. On our honeymoon, we drove across the desert, taking pictures along the way. We looked so happy. I looked at the date of the picture and the current date on my phone; we’d been married for just over a year.

  My smile was as wide as the Mississippi River as we pulled into a massive parking lot. A Walmart stood in the middle of a row of shops, like a massive crown jewel. On closer inspection, each of the shops was a Walmart department; an eyeglass store, a coffee shop, gym, juice bar, and even a massage parlor. It was almost beautiful.

  Nate parked the truck into a space close to the front. “We’re here, welcome to Hell.”

  I chuckled as I got out, stepping back into the heat. “You’re not kidding.”

  “Babe, I think I need my chair.” Nate opened the door all on his own, turning ninety degrees to hang his legs out the side.

  I climbed out of the truck and somehow grabbed his chair, lifting it over my head before tossing it at the ground. It landed perfectly.

  “Nah,” Nate said with a chuckle. “On second thought, I think I’ll be fine.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Fine, but I get to give you a ride.” Nate did the rest; his body looked remarkably strong as he moved into his chair. Only then did I realize the chair was completely manual.

  How did I not notice that? ”Do you need a push?” I felt the need to ask. As a nurse, I knew what kind of muscles it took to use a non-electric wheelchair.

  “I’m good.” Nate spun around as if he had done it a thousand times.

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Well, you look good.” Nate was sick, but he could care for himself; he wasn’t a burden, just a reason to take the day off and go exploring. According to the pictures on my phone, we’d gone on all sorts of adventures, from Nevada, through Texas, and even up into Colorado.

  I placed my hand upon his back as we entered the nearly empty Walmart. “This is creepy.” Looking around, I could spot an old woman behind a register. It was the only one open out of the dozen or so present. But I guessed that was fine since there were absolutely no customers.

  When I turned my head, I caught sight of a tall, muscular man with long hair who was filling and arranging the garage area for carts. “Bobby?”

  The man turned. It was, in fact, my brother. “Raven?”

  “Oh, my God!” I screamed, rushing in for a hug. “How are you here?”

  Bobby was about to speak, but his eyes shifted. It was as if his mind went blank. “Your shift doesn’t start until noon.” His voice was distant, like a typical retail worker. But yet he didn’t push away from the hug.

  “I was hoping to take the day off,” I said with a forced smile. “I even brought Nate to gain some sympathy.” I reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly.

  “You’ll have to ask the manager,” he replied in a robotic monotone. “You have to go alone.” He motioned to a set of stairs that disappeared into a back room. It was only then he released my hand.

  I turned looked to look at Nate. He waved and smiled as if I’d done this a thousand times. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”

  I climbed the stairs. The first few were straight, then they started to curve, like a lighthouse. Steeper and steeper, higher and higher, until the final step, which was a good two feet high. At the end of a small hallway was a faux-wooden door with the word ‘manager’ written in black permanent marker.

  I opened the door to the sight of Becca. She looked younger, admittedly more beautiful even in a manager’s uniform. Her eyes seemed to sparkle, and rainbow streaks in her hair shimmered with a flash of metallic brilliance. “Hello, Raven, I’ve been expecting you.”

  “You’re the manager?” I asked. My voice was a mixture of nervousness and laughter.

  “One of many,” Becca said with a smirk as she twirled a lock of her hair. “This world is a big place.”

  “The world of Walmart?” I asked with a giggle.

  Becca only smiled. “Walmart is an all-powerful force of nature.”

  I nodded, knowing full well what she meant. Something like Walmart did not survive for as long as it had without some kind of paranormal intervention. “I was wondering if I could take the day off?” I asked confid
ently. “You know, my husband is really sick and might require medical attention soon.”

  Becca laughed and opened a drawer to reveal a pack of gum. “I know you’re lying, but this is your special visiting day in my domain.” She smacked her gum a few times before holding it against her teeth like some kind of high-school stereotype. “Go, have a day with your dream man.”

  “Am I in Hell?”

  “Hell is subjective; eternal damnation for a mouse can be Heaven for a cat. Take the day off, explore the town in that spiffy little truck of yours. Just be sure to check the schedule on your way out.” She motioned to the door. A thick, three-ring binder started to form out of flames, burning towards the floor. When it was finished, the binder hung on the door, attached by two rusty nails. “I wouldn’t want you to miss any shifts.”

  “Sure.” I did as she asked, lifting the black plastic cover. I learned that most people had on average thirty hours a week; low enough to not be full-time but high enough to get annoying. I wanted to ask her if the hours ever varied, but the desire to get the fuck out was much stronger.

  After carefully making my way down the stairwell, I took a breath, basking in the light of the sales floor. The massive area smelled of stale air and store-brand coffee. I looked around for Nate since he was not waiting at the exact same spot where I’d left him. But then again, he wasn’t a damn puppy; he was a strong, mobile human being who didn’t need to be waited on by a devoted care nurse. That was abundantly clear.

  I looked towards the parking lot. Nate was sitting in his chair, staring out at the sun. “Nate?” I walked closer. I could see he was holding a tray of two cups of coffee. So the last thing I wanted was to startle him. He was frozen in place like a mannequin, waiting for me to return. I gently tapped his shoulder. “Hey, Nate, I have good news.” Nothing, not a single reaction.

  I walked around to the front of his chair. Only when we made eye contact did he reply. “Hey, Raven, you good?”