Die for You

34| Jade

6 Years Earlier

I sat at the dining table as the light radiating off the candles appears in my face, making the twinkle in my eye much more obvious. My dad sat in the chair next to me recording with his phone as he smiles at me while I hide my face. 

He had to record me, he wanted to cherish this moment. I only turn 13 once. July 7th, 2013. My thirteenth birthday. Goddamn. I blew out the candles before my father could even do anything more, like sing happy birthday. He will get another chance to do that next year. I wish Mom was here though. He gave me a look and I laughed. Soon, his laugh was mixed in with my little giggles and I picked up the cake decorated with little bits of sprinkles, white vanilla frosting, "Happy Birthday Jade!" written in cursive, pink icing and I slammed the cake into my father's face. Our giggles lasted for a while.

After we cleaned up we watched my favorite movies and I opened my presents. I got a golden locket, in the shape of a heart. Flowers were engraved in the gold and the letter 'J' was written in the shiny front of the heart. When I opened it, inside had two photographs, one on each side, both showing very full detail of each color, each feature shown in the photos. One side had a picture of me when I was about three or four playing with my older brother, Florian. He's five years older than me, so in the photo he might be about eight or nine. I was on his back, getting a piggy-back ride as he held my two legs that sat on each one of his shoulders. My little fingers connecting to the tiny hands were squeezing his cheek and he was making a forced smile, his dimples showing slightly on each cheek. He was wearing a black t-shirt with the Nike logo in a red color, printed on the black material on his chest area. His messy dirty-brown hair, leaving strands over his freckled face. His hazel-green eyes were squinted and his eyebrows furrowed. His pale skin covered his tall, skinny, petite body. The photo cut off down at his waist area. There was a playground in the background. 

The second photo contained my parents. My mom was a very beautiful person. She looked a lot like I do. Her long black hair, with a slight wave to it reached to her waist. She had neat curtain bangs styled elegantly. She wore a black, off shoulder blouse, the sleeves going down to her elbows as they were fitted right around the shape of her arms. She wore blue skinny jeans and black platform heels, as well as a ring on her finger. She stood with her hand on her hip and smiling at the camera, at me. My father stood next to her, making her seem short as he was towering over the figure of my mother. He had light, blonde hair and it seemed messy. He wore a red polo shirt, and black slacks along with some white and gray sketchers. He had rectangular shaped, framed glasses sitting on the crook of his nose, making him seem nerdy and innocent. My mom looked to be maybe, 19 or 20 in this picture while my father looked 23 or 24. They looked happy. 

I look up from the locket and clutched it in my palm as I go to the real version of my father that was next to me in person. I swung my arms around him as he held me in a warm embrace. "Thank you dad." I whispered.

He pulled away and placed a kiss on my left temple. "You're welcome my little raven." He whispers.

Many fathers think of their daughters as doves, mine doesn't. He calls me a raven because of my jet black hair, my adventurous personality, my wisdom, my heart that cares for the ones who are important but don't go to the ones who mistreat it. Doves are kind and caring to everyone, they're forgiving and gentle. They like to obey everyone else and ignore their own wants and needs. They're saints, raven's aren't. Raven's are the opposite.

Little did I know, there was another meaning to it. I was told it was bad. I ignored those who explained what was so bad about it. 

My father and I walked up the stairs to my bedroom as it was now 2:30 in the morning. I giggled and laughed as we make our way up the steps. "Dad! Don't remind me." I laughed out. 

We walked together down the hallway to my bedroom. Once we stood in front of the doorway, he put his hand on the knob and turned it, the door being pushed open to open the way into my bedroom. I had an eggshell shade of white painted on my walls, with many posters, paintings, bookshelves and decorations covering it. There were posters of BTS, a new band that debuted about a month ago. I have listened to their debut single, "No More Dream" and I loved it. As soon as I lay my eyes on Jimin for the first time, my obsession with him was born. There were many posters of famous paintings, pictures of what makes my wall look like a Pinterest board. LED lights, butterflies, flags, pictures, and a lot more. My father led me to my bed, I climbed in under the comforter and blankets. I was about to lay my head down on my pillow when I heard the sound of footsteps downstairs. 

It was just me and my father in this house at the current moment, who was that down there? 

My father looked over his shoulder, with no hesitation he threw the comforter off my body, his arms slid under my back and my legs. I could feel my weight getting lighter as I was being picked up and carried out of the room. My dad quickly carried me to his bedroom in a run and brought me inside. He set me down on the floor, allowing me to stand up on my own. His back turned to me as he slammed his bedroom door shut and locked the door. He got a hold of my hand as he pulled me towards his closet door and threw the sliding doors open. They were wide open, creating a large space to enter the small space. He pushed me inside, then pulled the doors back shut. I let out a whimper out of the inquietude I couldn't help but feel. What was going on? 

I looked through the open blinds of the door that kept me in the confined space I was in, watching my father pull out a pistol. He pulled the hammer, causing the weapon to make a clicking noise allowing it to be ready for him to shoot at any danger coming his way. He looked at me, giving me a soft smile. He mouthed some words that I could only read as, "Stay safe my raven." I was about to speak when the windows burst open, shattered glass going everywhere throughout the room. I quickly ducked down and covered my head and ears, trembling, my eyes pointed down to my knees. I slowly picked my head up, watching the next actions. There were many men barging in, climbing in through the window, I heard the door break down as people walked in through there.

It all happened so fast.

My father picked up his gun and pointed it at the guy standing directly in front of him. The two closest men pulled off their masks. One of the men was older. He had jet black hair, like mine, groomed neatly except for the couple strands breaking the complete orderly style, going right on the middle of his forehead. His black hair had some gray strands in it, revealing the fact he is aging. He had wrinkles on his face and a scar, making an open cut on his lip. He looked intimidating, as if he will kill have no mercy for killing. The other person was a boy, he looked a few years older than me. He had very dark brown hair, almost black, it was messy, some of the strands going in his face. He had mesmerizing brown eyes, almost in a gray hue, he had a firm jaw and smooth pale skin. I couldn't help but stare, feeling butterflies in my stomach. I noticed his eyes found mine and I hid. He stayed silent and looked back to my father.

I covered my ears as I moved out of sight and hid a corner of the closet. I could hear faint begs and cries, a yell in pain. Then there were many gunshots. They stopped and I heard a loud cry. It went silent. I removed my hands from my ears as people were climbing out the window. I waited a few moments until I knew they were all for sure gone. Once I was sure about their absence, I slowly pulled the closet door open and I let out a gasp followed by a loud sob. My eyes stung from the tears that filled them as I ran to the lifeless body on the bedroom floor. I sat down next to him and cried out, "Dad! Wake up!" I cried out.

I kept trying, and trying. Nothing. He gave no answer. My father was dead. He was murdered. 

The next sounds that left my lips were screams in complete agony. I heard a door burst open, as footsteps were thumping up the stairs in a hurry, moving closer to the room I was in. A scream escaped my lips once again. I fell to the floor, clinging onto my father's bloody body, not caring about the blood that was going all over me. I cried, and cried and cried for so long, until it went dark.

I now know the other meaning of The Raven. What else it symbolizes. 

Death.