The Crow Ate The Rose (Quiet Lies Book 1)

by H. M. Gonsman

  Contents

  The Crow Ate The Rose

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Epilogue

  The Crow Ate The Rose

  by

  H.M. Gonsman

  Copyright © 2019 by H.M. Gonsman

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Prologue

  Tick. Tock.

  The grandfather clock counted the minutes in the shadowed living room. It was half past 10 p.m. and Edith Crow was certain Mason Hart was not going to show up to take her to prom. She was hunched over in a pink ball of lace and silk on the sofa with a tear stained face implanted in a pillow.

  “Edith, honey,” Mom’s quiet voice sounded. She sat down next to Edith and brushed through her frizzy curls. “How about you take off the dress, come back downstairs, and we’ll watch a movie together?”

  Edith pushed down the dress ruffles as she sat up and ran a hand over her lashes, running mascara across her flushed face. “He didn’t show up.” She had a crush on the senior for the last four years. When he asked her to prom three weeks ago, she couldn’t believe it. Mason was popular, handsome, and wanted to spend the special night with her. She spent hours prepping for the moment he’ll show up on her doorstep and sweep her away to a modern fairytale, but he never showed up. “Why didn’t he show up?” Edith questioned.

  Her mother paused. “Maybe there was an emergency?”

  Edith shook her head. “He’s fine.”

  “How do you know? Have you spoken to him?”

  “Olivia Bennet posted a picture of her and Mason kissing,” Edith said, anger stinging her tone. She pulled out her phone and held up a picture of the two in a comfortable embrace. “If I was pretty like Olivia, this wouldn’t have happened,” Edith wept.

  Chapter One

  Skulls with candles stuck in the middle lit the dim room. The atmosphere was somewhere between drafty and suffocating. Like an old basement where the temperature was cool, but the muggy, uncirculated air made it difficult to breathe. A heavy scent of vanilla greeted her nose, but there was something else in the aroma that left a metallic taste in her mouth.

  Edith Crow stood in awe in the witch’s home. It was both disgusting and fascinating. She had never had a reason to dabble in dark magic until now.

  “What brings you to me?” A young woman approached her with spellbinding black eyes, the heavy, coal colored eyeliner gave them an empty appearance. She wore a floor-length velvet black skirt that didn’t quite cover her bare feet, a fitted black crop top, and a long braided leather necklace with a bird skull dangling on the end. Flipping her wavy blonde hair over her shoulder, she arched an equally light brow.

  “To be beautiful,” she whispered to the witch. She held up her phone screen and scrolled through a number of photos on her social media account. “I don’t want to compete with these girls. I want to be the fairest of them all.”

  “It is a beautiful thing to be beautiful,” the witch replied as she abruptly sat down on a pillow. She expanded her arms, “Have a seat.”

  Edith noted the exotic rugs, blankets, and pillows she was stepping on before taking a seat across from the witch on the padded floor.

  The witch’s eyes widened. “Tell me why you are so eager to be beautiful.”

  Edith blinked. “Look at me.” She couldn’t hold back the sound of disgust in her voice. Frizzy black hair coiled from her scalp, blemished skin infected her pale face, large teeth protruded from her mouth, bad vision plagued her eyes leaving her with glasses, and her bony frame gave her an appearance of an anorexic scarecrow. There was nothing beautiful about Edith’s face or body.

  It was the reason why Mason didn’t show up last week to take her to prom and why he was kissing the perfect Olivia Bennet instead. When Edith showed up to school yesterday, she was horrified when Mason pretended not to know her. He must have told the whole school because everyone kept whispering and giggling when she walked by.

  She spent the majority of her youth alone because she couldn’t find friends who understood her fascination with insects and obsession with digging in dusty thrift stores for a good deal. Girls either tormented or pitied her for the unusual hobbies and eclectic style. Boys used her as a means of entertainment, acting interested in her for a little while just to turn around and ostracize her at school the next day.

  If she was beautiful, girls would want to be her friend because they would want to imitate her. It wouldn’t even matter what her strange hobbies were or what she was wearing because they would be too jealous of her beauty to be concerned about who she was as a person.

  If she was beautiful, boys would chase her down and bait her with love notes and attention. They would compete against each other like gladiators to win her heart. Oh, how that kind of affection was desirable.

  If she was beautiful, life would be effortless.

  Instead of trying to work endlessly on herself to keep up with everyone else, it was now her sole purpose to be much more than good enough. She had to be the best. She had to be the woman every man yearned to have. To keep them tossing and turning at all hours of the night and then watching as they slammed into the wall of madness because they couldn’t have her for their own. She wanted to be the woman that other women envied. To keep them gossiping with thirst as they wasted their days scrolling through pictures of her and obsessing about her favorite shade of green. She wanted it all—the beauty, the wealth, the fame.

  “I want people to feel the same anguish they bestowed upon me,” Edith said.

  “You seek revenge?” The witch grinned. “I can make you the most beautiful woman the world has ever seen. Women will spend thousands of dollars to look like you and never succeed. Your name will be scripture, quoted for eternity, written on the walls around you. Your face and body will be an idol, posted on billboards and signs. Wherever you go, whatever you do, you will be the most pious of them all,” the witch licked her pale lips. “But the price is steep. What are you willing to give up for such a blessing?”

  “Anything,” came Edith’s quick reply. Her eyes ventured to the pillows she was sitting on and she picked at the tassels. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  The witch tilted her head and repeated Edith’s words.“Whatever it takes?

  Edith leaned forward and stared straight into the woman’s narrowed pupils. “Whatever it takes,” her tone firm.

  After a moment of silence, the witch finally said, “What is love to you?”

  Now it was Edith’s turn to pounder an answer. What was love? According to every magazine and movie it was guys writing sloppy handwritten notes to their lovers. It was staying awake all night talking on the phone. It was cuddling on the couch while watching sappy chick flicks. What was the point of love if there was no one to do those things with?

  “Love is pointless,” Edith’s reply was flat.

  The witch frowned with a puzzled expression. “Have you ever been in love with someone?”

  “No.”

  “Good,” the witch said. “In order to gain the world’s love, you must give up the ability to fall in love.” Her lips curved upward on one side.

  “I wo
n’t be able to fall in love?”

  The witch laughed. “Beauty comes with a price. The feeling will be removed from your soul in exchange for beauty and fame. Although you won’t feel love, everyone will love you. You see, there is no reason to fall in love at all when everyone else is doing it for you.”

  Edith pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and squinted at the woman. What did it matter if she gave up the ability to love? The feeling never served her any purpose anyway. She wanted those who shooed her off with icy shrugs to fall before her feet and worship her—without the intent of ever returning the feeling. Yes, they will regret what they have done to her.

  “I’m not looking for love,” Edith snubbed her nose. “Do what you must.”

  The witch inhaled deep and slow. Finally, she met Edith’s lingering gaze and said, “Come with me.” The words were short and hollow.

  The witch stood to her full height, a head taller than Edith, and ushered her to a back room.

  Inside the dingy room was an old bathtub with flickering candles melted along the edge. It was too dark to make out the walls, but resting in the shadows were shelves of trinkets, crystals, candles, bones, and jars full of oddities.

  “Get into the bathtub,” the witch commanded, all politeness erased from her voice.

  Edith peered over the edge of the tub and examined the cloudy water. “Why?”

  The witch released an irritated laugh. “Do you think the words of my spells are powerful enough? You must participate if you want results. Now undress and get in the bathtub.”

  Edith hesitantly slipped off her jean jacket, dropping it to the floor, followed by the rest of her clothes, and glasses. Starting with her big toe, she nervously lowered her body into the water. It was surprisingly warm.

  The witch picked up a glass jar from a shelf and sprinkled contents into the water while chanting a string of words under her breath. She did this several more times, each time the water feeling warmer and warmer. Finally, the witch rested her hands along the edge of the bathtub. “Are you ready?”

  “For what?” Edith suddenly grew concerned.

  “For Edith to die.” Her lips curved upwards like a cat who caught a crow. Without warning, the witch grabbed her by the throat and pushed her below the water.

  Edith screamed under the water, bubbles escaping from her mouth until there was no air left in her lungs. The water turned black, as did everything else in sight.

  Edith Crow was dead.

  Chapter Two

  She plucked the missing person flyer from the front of the coffee shop window and stuffed it in her bra. The ugly girl on the piece of paper had been missing for years, yet flyers still lingered. Well, this was one missing person who was never going to be found. Adette Rose was sure of that.

  She had suffocated Edith Crow in the bathtub years ago, drowning out every imperfection and draining them down the pipes until there was only the perfection of Adette Rose left.

  Although her appearance and name had changed, her taste buds had not. The Old Cat’s Tin used to be her favorite coffee shop in these parts of town, especially around this time of year when pumpkin spice was loaded in everything from lattes to muffins. It floated in the Tacoma, Washington breeze like it was natural.

  Saliva pricked her tongue at the thought.

  Although she preferred salted caramel drinks, it was the pumpkin spice that tasted like October. It tasted like watching the leaves fall in an array of yellows and reds, watching fog fall asleep over the street lights, lounging by a crackling fire while a grey tabby played with a cinnamon bun wrapper, a younger sister wanting to blast John Mayer in the car with the windows down. Pumpkin spice lattes tasted like home.

  Home?

  She swallowed, forcing any thoughts associated with the word down her throat with the wad of saliva.

  Pushing through the shop’s front door, Adette looked around the old place. It had been so long since she last visited, she couldn’t recall if the interior changed. The wooden walls and rafters, rustic furniture, and hanging lanterns looked different, or maybe it was just older? One thing remained exact. The aromas wafting in the cozy room were just as she remembered.

  The heavy scent of caramel with notes of toffee, salt, leather, and the faint burning of a blown out candle greeted her. Some have compared the smell to a barn, but not the kind of barn that housed farm animals. The kind of barn painted in an autumn scenes on calendars and desktop backgrounds. Only it always smelled that way regardless of the season, but this time of year always made the unique fragrance special.

  She had spent many hours sitting in the coffee shop studying for science classes. Sometimes she would bring her younger sister and they would sip pumpkin spice lattes until late at night. So many days were spent watching the maple leaves blow past the window as the two girls chatted and laughed about nothing. There were several times the two stayed until the shop closed and they walked home under faded yellow streetlights.

  She almost wanted to smile at the resurfacing memories.

  Almost.

  She swallowed. The memories weren’t so quick to dissipate.

  “It’s Adette Rose!”

  The high pitched sound of her name snapped Adette back into reality. A crowd of people suddenly formed around her, demanding for pictures and autographs. Someone tugged her arm and another sniffed her hair, and she swatted at the hands and noses invading her personal fortress.

  “She’s prettier in person!” a masculine voice called out.

  “I want to be you!” another voice excelled in excitement.

  The sea of people came from all directions, seeping through the doors, the lounging area, the back, like a wild wave washing over her, dragging her to the ocean floor. Was there already this amount of people in the coffee shop? She hardly noticed anyone in the seemingly empty place a few minutes ago.

  With eyes set on the door, Adette fought through the strong current of obsessed Adette Rose fanatics. Once she twisted herself free, she stumbled through the doorway and inhaled for fresh air before making a quick movement for freedom down the street.

  Chapter Three

  Adette ran as fast as her five inch stilettos would allow, black silk and feathers trailing behind her.

  The sound of soles and heels beating against the sidewalk behind her quickened her heart as she tried to escape the mob. Streetlights passed by her in a blur and the shops along the street were far from her usual line of focus.

  Making a last second decision, she decided on a sharp right turn around a building into a damp, dark alley. It was instinct. The crowd passed by her, completely unaware she was now behind them, and immediately everything was silent except the distant sound of a drip.

  Adette leaned her back against the wall, cold bricks icing her skin, and she dropped her flushed face into the palms of her hands as she fought to find her breath.

  When would it end? She gasped before wiping the beads of perspiration from her forehead.

  Desire and beauty were supposed to make life easier, but it didn’t. It had been years since she traded the ability to love in exchange to be loved, and she hadn’t been able to go for a stroll or grab coffee without this sort of thing happening. All she desired was a latte, but what did she get instead? An empty hand and the memory of home.

  After modeling in a photoshoot for the approaching Emerald Art and Fashion Gala, Adette was slumped in the back of the limo exhausted from the hours of posing when the familiar coffee sign caught her eye and she demanded that the driver stop to let her out. The Old Cat’s Tin seemed like a good idea at the time, mostly because she was already familiar with the shop. She wasn’t trying to attract a mob of people after her and she certainly wasn’t trying to rekindle the flames of her past, but both happened.

  She swallowed.

  Ever since Adette sold her soul for beauty, she woke up a different person—so unrecognizable that she couldn’t go back home.

  So she didn’t.

  Reaching into her bra
, she took out the wadded up flyer and read the words printed just above the unsightly photo of her old self:

  BELOVED DAUGHTER EDITH CROW MISSING.

  Adette couldn’t imagine the horrific things that must have crossed her parent’s minds when she didn’t return from the coffee shop that night. She had told them she was going to study for her approaching exams, but instead she made a detour to a witch’s home and sold her soul.

  She wished she could understand—feel—the love they harbored for her, but she couldn’t relate to it anymore. The feeling of love and the understanding of it failed her everyday. Her family must still miss her if they were still looking for her.