Prologue

560 16 0
                                    

I'm not creepy. I know I come off as a little dark, but it's not my fault. My emotions are dangerous. I'm dangerous. If I don't keep control, then I risk losing myself to...him. I just wish I could find someone that understands.

My name is Raven. I'm thirteen years old, and you could definitely say that I'm not your average teenager. My life is a bit complicated to say the least. As for right now, I'm homeless. It's hard to think about exactly how I got here, so I'll spare the details. I came from a place called Azarath. It got destroyed. I was the sole survivor. My primary concern right now is trying to figure out this strange city I've landed in. I don't have any family to go back to, so I'm on my own.

I glance down at my tattered robes and start to take in my surroundings. I can feel my heart rate begin to slow down after the disaster I had just come from as I ground myself in this new situation. It's a good technique to calm down anxiety to look at objects around you and think about how they look, smell, feel, and even how they would taste. I look at the dumpster next to me. It's obviously dirty, but I can imagine that it was once a nice dark blue shade. The metal is relatively smooth if you excuse some stickers and grime. It reeks of rotten food. I don't want to think about how it would taste — putrid for sure. Next to it, I see a small couch. It's full of holes, and you can see the stuffing as it tries to escape the cushions. It's a dark olive shade with maroon stripes, not really my style. I step closer, and a wave of some horrid stench fills my nose. A rat (or three) must have died in it.

I've decided that I don't like this alleyway.

Suddenly, I hear a voice behind me, "Y'know, this isn't exactly the safe part of town. But seeing as you just appeared out of nowhere, I'm going to assume you're not from here."

I whip around to see a boy, probably about my age, standing in front of me. He's wearing a black mask that just surrounds his eyes. His clothes seem odd to me as well. He has a black cape, green pants, red shirt, black boots, and everything has a yellow accent to it. There's a small 'R' just over his heart. The sword in his left hand and yellow belt with small compartments immediately intimidate me. I wasn't prepared to enter a fight right after all I had just witnessed. I try to breathe and not let myself feel any fear. I pray he can't see it in my eyes as I tense myself into a defensive stance for when he attacks.

"Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you unless you give me a reason to," he puts his sword into a holster on his back and reaches his right hand out to me. "Let me introduce myself. My name is Robin. You're in Gotham City." Although his words seemed friendly enough, his tone was icy cold, as though it was a major inconvenience that he was dealing with me.

Hesitantly, I reach out to shake his hand and squeak out, "My name is Raven."

"Well Raven. I guess I better take you back to my father. He'd want to hear about a young, obviously terrified girl just popping up out of nowhere during my patrol. He'll make sure your safe as long as you have nothing to hide."

I glance between him and the couch that would otherwise probably be my bed for tonight. I had a lot to hide, but I also had almost nothing left to lose. Barely being able to stand straight, I made a decision that would alter the course of my destiny.

I followed this strange boy into the shadows.

The Lonely BirdWhere stories live. Discover now