The Crow

Chapter 22. Bird

**CONTENT WARNING**
This chapter contains mature content such as depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, physical and mental abuse. Material is explained further, see information in "Ongoing Updates, Publishing, Warnings."

This chapter goes into Neveah's past which has already been hinted in previous chapters. I decided not to write too in-depth to refrain from sensitive thoughts others may have.

You can skip this chapter as it will not affect the plot. Although, I do recommend reading to get a better understanding of the characters past.

Neveah Crow

Another night without sleep. The sun poured through the window past the darkened curtains. I threw my feet over my bed, staring blankly at the floor beneath them. I ran my fingers through my hair, my head throbbing from the night before.

Apparently today we would be learning 'something new,' which was never exciting. I've gotten used to the routine. The yelling, the failing, the 'encouragement.' Better known as punishment, and the hope and pray you get it right this time. Until eventually, you do it all over again.

Looking to my side table I watched the clock, right on schedule.

Three...two...

The door swings open. As usual, Grandmother comes to get me for the day. Her dull gray hair forcefully put into a bun. Her black blouse ruffled into her long skirt. Wand always in hand.

"Quickly, wash up for the day." She huffed, walking over to the curtains. The light causes me to wince, revealing every scar. "You look a mess, worse than yesterday. Heal yourself before your Grandfather sees you... pathetic." Her words rang under her breath as she slammed the door closed.

Taking a deep breath for the day, I climbed out of bed with a groan. Waving my hand in the air, my room began falling back into place behind me. I made my way into the bathroom, taking a closer look at myself in the mirror.

I was in desperate need of a shower, but there was no time. No want, to be more specific. My dark circles swallowed my eyes, leaving me deathly. Everywhere I looked, I was hollow. Falling apart to be fixed again.

It would all be worth it in the end. Every mark, every bruise, every drop of blood I shed. It will all be worth it. It brings me strength, power, endurance. Everything to become the best witch.

I never liked to see the result of a lesson once it's done. Much easier to endure when you're too tired to notice. I removed my shirt to see a heavy bruise on my rib.

"Brackium Emendo." I muttered. A snap broke the silence as I bit my tongue. The stinging sensation hovered over the line of soothing and painful. With a bandaging charm in place, I moved on.

"Novis." Addressing the mark on my forehead. I found it most satisfying to watch the color dissipate from my skin. The green and purple retreating until invisible. A spell that only reverses an injury for a few hours if not induced often. By tomorrow it'll return, along with the pain.

Once I seemed presentable enough, I threw on a pair of clothes tossed on a chair nights before.
Before leaving the room, I feel myself twisting my neck. Shaking my irritation off at the door.

Everyday was always the same.

Wand in hand I made my way downstairs into the dining room. Grandfather sat at the head chair, Leslie to his side.

"Ah, there she is!" He smiled as I walked through the archway. "I got you something extra special this morning."

He giddily walked out of the room, returning with a tray in one hand and a bag in the other. He had a warming smile with a jolly walk as he set it all on the table.