Ravenous (Book 1 The Ravening Series) by Erica Stevens Read Free Book Online

silent.
       It had been awful, horrendous. So awful in fact that I had been too numb to cry, too engulfed by misery to fully understand what was going on. I was only nine, the most I knew of death was the small ceremonies we’d held to bury our pets in the backyard. I didn’t know much of death, but I knew the exact moment when my father left me. I knew the man I loved more than anything was not coming back to me, and I still did not cry. I had been trapped within that wreck for hours, unable to break free no matter how hard I tried before they found us.
       It had taking another hour for the rescuers to free me from the car. For that hour they had draped a sheet over my father, not to protect me from seeing him, it was too late for that. They had done it because they were unable to handle the sight of his ruined body, especially in front of his oddly silent, eerily calm, and somewhat unnerving young daughter.
       I didn’t cry that day, or the three that followed it. I didn’t speak either. I did not talk about what I had seen, what it had been like to be imprisoned, unable to break free, while I listened to the sound of my father’s blood dripping against the roof. I did not talk about the fact that his small moans of agony, moans that he had tried to stifle from me, haunted my every moment. I did not mention the awful silence and agony that had engulfed me when those moans had stopped. I was left with only the endlessly dripping blood, and the horrifying realization that my father was gone. I had been unable to tell him that I loved him just once more before he left me. I told no one about any of it, not even my mother, who even through her own grief and anguish was more concerned about my wellbeing, than her own.
       That was the main reason I didn ’t cry. I did not want her to know how badly I was hurt, how haunted and tormented I was. I wanted her to believe that I was strong, that I would be ok. I wanted her to believe that no matter what had happened she wouldn’t have to worry about me too. I was fine. I was brave. I would survive, no matter how distraught, terrified, and broken I really was.
       It wasn’t until the day of the funeral that I finally cried, and thankfully my mother had not been there to see it. But Cade had.
       The funeral had been over. I was still wearing the small black dress my mother had picked out for me. Abby and Aiden, also dressed in black, had not been as stoic as me throughout the ceremony. They had wept openly. It was a fact that was not missed by most people and at the reception after I was the main topic of conversation. Though they whispered, and thought they were keeping their words from me, I was not as gone as they seemed to think I was. I did not catch it all, but I caught enough to know that their hushed words, and fearful tones were not truly heartfelt, but merely more gossip for them to banter about. Was there something wrong with me? Had the accident ruined me? Had I always been a cold child? Had they somehow managed to miss my oddness until now, when it was so blatantly obvious?
       I ’d slipped out of the house, eager to escape the oppressive heat of the house and their phony concern. There was a large, beautiful garden to the right of the house that my mom had been forced to sell the following year. The garden had been my mother’s pride and joy, filled with flowers, strange plants, and wonderful smells. In the far back corner there had been a wooden bench tucked beneath the boughs of a giant willow. It was that bench that I made my way to.
       I sat there for a long time, my hands folded before me as I watched bees buzzing lazily about, and butterflies flitting from here to there. I tried not to think about anything, struggled not to break under the weight of my mourning as it threatened to consume me. I don’t know how long I sat there before I felt the presence of someone else. I lifted my head, blinking against the bright light of the sun