The One Winged Raven

Part 1

It is said that when the body goes into shock, the mind goes blank. Should you experience something awfully traumatic, it will become nothing but a dark abyss over time. All that pain, that suffering, the uncertainty, will amount to nothing but a blip in the memory. The mind will block it out to save itself that pain, the trauma, the uncertainty.

Would it really happen so soon, however?

Mary doesn't even know what happened. One minute, she's calmly asleep in the bed in which she shares with her husband when they take a trip to France. The next, the door is being barged open and suddenly she's on the floor and her arms are being pinned to the ground and then-

She lets out a shuddering, tearful exhale, roughly scrubbing at her face, ridding herself of the tears that burn the cut upon her lip in which she'd been struck down by the one who'd-. No. She couldn't think about that. She didn't know him. She didn't know any of them. All of a sudden, they were in her bedroom and then she's on the floor. Over and over, being held down, with hands tightening and tightening around her throat, until her lips began to tingle and her vision began to fade into nothingness.

She let out another gasp for air, retreating from the faucet. Is the water scalding hot? Or is it freezing cold? She cannot tell.

This wasn't supposed to happen. It was supposed to be a lovely trip to see their families in France and then sort out some business for their merged company. Not this. Anything, everything, but this.

"Mary," a voice said. Mary spins around with a shriek of surprise, before calming at the sight of her frightened mother in law. She's so small, was Catherine always that short? Did she always look to weathered? When did she get here? Of course, her mind tells her, she'd burst down the door after hearing such a commotion. She'd been too late to stop it, but she'd caused them to scurry out of the window like scolded dogs, she'd picked up Mary's limp, bloody, abused body and screamed out for help. And then, they were here.

"Catherine," she whispers. Was her voice always like that? So raspy and tired? Why did it sound like that?

"It's alright, my dear." Catherine begins slowly, taking a step closer to the young woman of who'm she'd risen from time to time until she was nine years old. She looked like the child Catherine remembered, confused and unsure and weary, not like the powerful young woman that her son had fallen for -hard- when they were teenagers and finally married when they were twenty one. "But," she begins, her voice choked, swallowing down the lump that had formed in her throat. "you have to tell Francis, my child." Mary let out a choked sob at this, shaking her head. "you must," Catherine pushes. "he's your husband, he has been for five years, Mary. He must be told of this." she pauses. "We need to call the police-"

"No." she croaks desperately, sagging onto the bathtub, sitting down upon it. Her head hurts, her body hurts. Will it ever stop? "No police." she whispers miserably. Mary closes her eyes. She hears her own scream as the first one pushed into her, she hears them yelling. She hears glass breaking. The thought brings a chill to her spine. She whimpers, wrapping her bruised arms around herself.

"Mary-" Catherine comes closer to her, walking slowly, as if Mary was a frightened animal that her mother in law did not want to spook. Why was she moving like that?

"No." she sobs miserably, looking up at her mother in law who now towers over her at a grand measure of five foot. "We-" she breathes. "We're already on tumultous times, this will only make things a million times worse." she says, wiping her tears. "All this-" she gestures in front of her face. "trying to have children and failing to keep a baby, it's already rocked us. We-we just need to forget it ever happened, okay?" she breathes croakily, running her hands roughly down her face with another sniffle.