I sat in a comfortable chair, which was above a white carpet, trying my best to not get too much blood on the upholstery. I looked at anything and everything in a desperate attempt to forget why I was in Crow's office. And forget just how much I screwed up. (practically impossible, but a girl can try) I focused on the chair first, trying to pass the time.

The chair I was sitting on was nice. The legs were meticulously carved with swirls and patterns and were gilded with what I suspected to be real gold. The backrest was curved and plush. It was beige with maroon spots.

The spots weren't there before, but I guess I got some blood on it when I sat down. I winced, "More money out of my pocket. Money that I don't have." I sat perched on the very edge of the chair. Trying to catch the blood that still oozed out of my wounds before they hit the expensive-looking white carpet.

I was failing miserably.

The carpet itself was beautiful and embroidered with scattered snowflakes, each a different shade of blue. From navy to sky, from azure to teal and everything in between. Scarlet flakes bloomed in the icy abyss of the pristine carpet, my blood. Crimson footprints led from the door to the chair I now sat in. I winced at how much all of this damaged property would cost.

I looked away from the blood that seemed to taunt me, as though saying, Oh wow, you just couldn't stop screwing up, could you? I moved my gaze towards the walls.

The walls were a soft blue with clouds painted on it. Pictures studded the walls, each a painting of immeasurable value. The paintings seemed to be alive, I could see, feel, smell, and touch what was within the once blank canvas. One was of a riverbank, with a small waterfall.

The painting was so realistic that I could hear the water trickling gently, could feel wind weaving through the reeds, creating magical river music, could smell the purity of the air, and could sense the serenity of the moment. I felt at peace when I looked at the painting, a peace that I had never possessed before then. I tore my eyes away from the painting and looked to the next one, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, though I wasn't sure why.

The one beside the first was of a couple on a beach. One had its arms wrapped around the other, and the second one leaned into the first. The second leaned their head on the first's shoulder. They stared off into a wonderful sunset.

The sun seemed to be swallowed by the ocean. Streaks of color swirled into the sky. The night was closing in, the stars blinking into existence one by one. An indigo night approaching the golden day. The moon could be seen, and it glowed softly and gently.

It was patient for its turn to rule the sky. Patient with certain knowledge, the kind that is deep in your bones, a truth so ancient that no one could fathom anything different. The areas near the setting sun were warm. Soft shades of orange curled around the sun, mixed in with gold and bands of scarlet. The people were only silhouettes, but I could sense the love between the two.

Nothing could part them, and they loved each other with all that they were. I felt the tears getting hotter in my eyes. I wanted someone to look at me like that, as though I was worthy of love. Worthy of attention and recognition. I took a deep breath, trying not to burst into tears. I quickly looked away because I knew that the tears wouldn't be held back for long.

The next one was of a pack of wolves on the hunt. I could see the intensity of their gazes, could hear the silence as they stalked closer to their prey, a young doe. Smell the scents of the forest, the mulch under their paws, the sharp pine, the sap that oozed from the ancient trees. And best or worst of all could feel a sense of belonging.

That I belonged there, that I was accepted, wanted, loved. Needed. It was something that I longed to feel. Something I would never feel. I felt a tugging in my chest, wanting so deep and true, that I knew that I would never have this. I would never feel this way, and that hurt more than the wounds on my body. For those would heal, but this would forever bear a mark on my already bruised and battered heart, a jagged hole that could and would never be filled.

All of the paintings were like this, real to the point where I could feel, sense, hear, touch, and smell everything depicted on the canvas. But they hurt because all they did was show me what I couldn't have. Peace, serenity, belonging, and love.

Tears gathered again in my eyes and I wiped them away furiously. Why cry over something I never had? Something I would never have. But the tears just came faster and faster despite the knowledge that it would never happen, streaking down my cheeks, making small rivulets of saltwater. I couldn't, wouldn't allow myself the luxury of crying. It was something I couldn't afford to do in my current situation.

So I swallowed my tears, my pain, and focused on what I could do and have. I took deep and shuddering breaths to steady myself. Being furious with myself for being so weak, and over some paintings. I was disgusted with myself, How can I be so weak? Mother would be disappointed in me.

All of a sudden, a wave of dizziness and exhaustion swept over me. I swayed in the chair, wondering why the floor was suddenly rushing up to meet me. I caught myself on the edges of the chair to not fall. My eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and my grip on the chair weakened.

I blinked rapidly to rid myself of the blue and yellow spots dancing in my vision. I swallowed hard and squeezed my eyes shut. I poked one of my worst wounds, a bloody hole in the space between my ribs, to wake myself up. I felt a fiery pain bolt through my body like lightning. I gasped at the pain and slumped in relief as realized that I no longer felt the pull of sleep.

The mahogany door opened and I stiffened in fear. I sat up straight with good posture, though I doubt that manners mattered now. Crow stepped out and looked me dead in the eye.

"Come in," he commanded, his voice cold and stiff.

I stepped lightly, doing my best to not make the carpet bloodier than it already was. Still failing miserably. Crow looked at me with disgust, his lip curled to show his distaste for me. I felt a surge of defiance. I longed to flop on his carpet and create more bloodstains, to say, "Oh, sorry, so you didn't want more blood on your carpet? Well TOO BAD." But my common sense and logic won out.

I followed him into an office completely different from the waiting room. It was cold and unforgiving. Everything was either gray, white, or black. There were no other colors. The curtains were dark storm cloud gray and were just as comforting given my situation. The floor was gray and dull. Everything else, from the walls to the desk were within those three colors. I gulped silently and sat down gingerly into the metal seat that was provided.

Crow stalked into his chair, looking more like a vulture than a crow at that point.

He folded his hands in front of him, the weak light making his skin seem ghostly pale. I shivered, he looked like a ghost come to haunt me for my sins. Or perhaps a ghoul. But neither were so scary, not compared to Crow. He could say a single word and my life would lay in tatters at my feet.

I gulped, making no sound. The only noise in the room was of my blood dripping onto the floor. With each drip, drip, Crow narrowed his eyes but refused to speak. His silence filled the room, terrifying, oppressive, and so so quiet. All at once, it made for a dangerous sound. It sounded, like death.

After an eternity, he opened his mouth and said in a dangerous voice, "You are lucky that you are still alive considering what you did to my daughter."

I looked down and nodded silently. I dared not look at Crow in fear that he would say the words I so dreaded to hear. I didn't move, didn't think, didn't breathe.

"So," he said, drawing out his words deliberately, "I am generous and kind enough to let you tell your tale. If you dare lie, I think you know the consequences."

I nodded vigorously and took a breath. I was still looking at my bloody shoes when I opened my mouth to speak. "Well, I was walking home and-"

He interrupted, "When you are speaking to me look at me girl!" His voice thundered and echoed in the still room. I flinched but obliged. I forced my gaze to meet his. I shivered at the sheer hatred and controlled fury. I shrank into the metal chair and spoke again. My voice was barely a whisper, but it still filled the lifeless room.

"I was walking home and then I turned a corner. I heard the voices of your daughter," I choked on the word before continuing, "And her," I hesitated, then decided what word to use, "...friends... and so I decided to go the other direction to avoid them as I usually do."

I took a breath to say more but Crow narrowed his eyes and said, "You're lying." His voice almost a sing-song tone, but there was an unspoken threat underneath the sugary sweetness. My blood froze in my veins and my heart stopped. I shook my head, just enough to be seen. Suddenly, I started trembling despite myself. He seemed to relish at my terror.

Once he was satisfied, he continued, now in a business voice, "Violet says that you always go that way because you know that the corner on Timber St. is her place. She says that you always pick fights and you harass her when she does nothing you."

I clenched my jaw and tried to control the fury bubbling up in me. Despite my terror, my anger gave me my voice back. I took a deep breath and said a surprisingly calm voice, "I have never picked a single fight with Vu-Violet." I stumbled on her name, about to call her Vulture, but caught myself before it was too late.

I continued, "She is the one who goes there because she knows that I take that route because it's a shortcut to my house. I do my best to steer clear of her because she taunts me about my mother." I paused to let him speak if he wanted to.

He looked unimpressed but said nothing so I continued. "Today, however, she went there and started bad-mouthing my mother. Violet taunted me by saying that no one missed my mother. She also said that she found it fun," I spat the word out, not caring that I was disrespecting his daughter. My anger gave me my voice back, along with my attitude.

"To gloat over her grave." My eyes bored into his as I spoke the last part, "It does not bode well to speak ill of the dead," I said the last part dangerously.

"Are you threatening me?" His voice was once again a sing-song tone. I saw the fury in his eyes, and something else. I shivered when I realized that it was probably insanity. I dropped my head and my eyes submissively. I shook my head dutifully.

He narrowed his eyes and said, "Go on. Remember, you will regret ever being born if you lie, or disrespect my angel of a daughter again."

It took all of my willpower to not slap him and then slap his, "Angel of a daughter." I nodded mutely.

"She then kicked me, making me drop the money that I had in hand. When I bent down to pick it up, she kicked me again. But she kicked me with the sharp end of her heel, tearing a hole in my side. Between my ribs." I looked at him again, seeing if he wanted to add something. When I saw he only blinked, I continued.

"They waited until I had gotten to my feet. Then they attacked." I gulped, not bothering to see if Crow had something to add. "They started kicking me, punching me and generally hurting me. They made fun of her and me. They taunted me, purposefully provoking me. They know that my mother's disappearance is a sore spot. Then Violet crossed the line."

I took a breath to say more, but Crow put his hand up for silence. I instantly snapped my mouth shut. His eyes smoldered with unspoken rage. I ducked my head quickly and hoped that I hadn't made matters worse.

He took a deep breath and said calmly, "I am aware of this behavior from Violet's 'friends' but my daughter would do no such thing. She is kind, considerate, and caring. She would do nothing of the sort to anyone. Not even scum like you." In the end, he sneered at me, I was obviously the "scum."

I thinned my lips into a line but still didn't look up. I was afraid of what I'd see.

"That's quite enough," he was suddenly all business. "I'll give you my verdict tomorrow. Report to me at sun high, no sooner, no later." He stood up and turned his back on me. I was confused about what to do so I just sat there, awaiting my doom.

"You are dismissed Miss Smokestrike," his voice rang out in the still room. I nodded, before realizing that he couldn't see me. I said, "Okay." I stepped gingerly, looking back every moment making sure of...I didn't know. So I just walked out.

I walked home, it was now nighttime. The stars were out and the moon offered me light. The path to my home was illuminated in moonlight, laced with starlight. Everything was silver, soothing, and sweet.

There were shadows everywhere, but they dared not come near the light. There were night hunters out, but the moon was full, and it gave all the light I needed.

The wind caressed my battered and bruised body, healing me and calming me. I smiled, it was a small comfort, but it soothed the hurt in my heart. I walked the moonlit night alone, yet I had never felt more at peace. My feet leaving darkness, crimson footprints in the pure night, but in the ghostly light, they were beautiful.

This night, I was beautiful. I wasn't broken, I wasn't hurting, and I wasn't alone. I had the moon as my guide, the stars were my friends and the wind walked beside me. I breathed in the clear night air, giving me strength and clarity.

I strayed from the path, choosing to swim through the ocean of silver grass. It rippled like water, and it looked like liquid moonlight. Despite that my world was falling apart, the night was my escape. I sighed and wondered why I couldn't always feel this way.

I approached my home and walked in through the back. The soft footfalls of my boots were the only sounds in the empty home. I already knew where everyone was. Eagle was probably at a friend's house. She rarely stayed the night in her own home and had practically already moved out.

Willow was away, she was a merchant, so she traveled to other kingdoms to exchange goods. Birch was a hunter. He had gone on a hunting trip, and he had gotten more distant with each trip, so I didn't see him often.

I walked towards my room, the light was suddenly so far away. The shadows crept closer, monsters hiding within. I longed for someone to hold me, to tell me that they were here for me. That I wasn't alone, that I would never be alone.

I made it to my room without incident, and without encountering him. I lay down in my bed, dreading tomorrow but at the same time, hating that I had to wait. I didn't know what was worse, what could happen, or waiting.

I sighed and closed my eyes, awaiting the nightmare that would surely come. I eventually drifted off.