the black raven | THE MONEY

° TWO YEARS LATER °

■ mara ■

I come home from school, openening the front door and shutting it behind me. Quickly, I head upstairs and yell 'homework' from the top step. I shut the door to my room, put in my earbuds, and slowly start my homework. I have physical science, math, and history. I press play, and the music begins.

"...pay no attention to the lies they feed you... "

" ...the only way home ain't on this yellow brick highway..."

It so sudden, that I don't recognize what triggered it; I grip my pencil tightly, my knucles go white at the force, while I hear the slight crack of the wood.

Calm down.

My eyebrows relax, and so does the rest of my body. I take a deep breath, remembering a tip that my English teacher told us-- she loves meditation.

The pen is red. The binder is red. The notebook is red.

I let my eyes wander around the room to try and find two other objects that are red.

The blanket is red. The book is red.
Breath.

There we go. Back to normal. And back to work, because this is all due tomorrow. Well, all homework is due the next day. That's why it's homework, I guess.

° 6:47 PM °

I head downstairs for dinner, and sit down across the table from my mother. She gives me a smile and we do the usual. Ask each other how our days were, ask about school, teachers, work, projects, etc.

Then, once I finish, she writes down what I said down to the very last detail. The time, my tone, my words, my pauses, all of it. I don't ask why. I know why. It's because she's lost it, hit rock bottom. She's practically borderline psychopath.

And I know that her psychopath is in me too; I've known since the night she disowned me. I've thought and deliberately considered murder. But I would never go through with it.

She calls me снежинка. It means snowflake. She also calls me a Russian spy and 'special' like her. I'm not Russian or special. I'm like any other kid. Accept my mother happens to be crazier than most.

"Mara, you are not dismissed from the dinner table," her voice cuts through me like a watermelon knife- sharp,

I turn, pull my chair out, and wait for her to speak. My face is blank, and I plan to keep it that way. She takesa deep breath, and then goes to the loving room to grab something.

I stay in the chair, not daring to get up and follow her. She comes back with a big black and purple suitcase. I blink at it then back at her, confused.

"What's that for? A trip to Texas?" I ask, sarcasm dripping in my tone. She's always wanted to go to Texas but couldn't because of her job. She's got family there, apparently.

She glares at me and I shove the stupid smirk off my face and mutter a quick 'sorry'.

Then she grabs her purse, puts three stacks of money on the suitcase, and then stands there, looking from me, to the suitcase, and then... to the hallway?

What does she want me to do? What is she doing? Is she kicking me out? Honestly I wouldn't be that surprised, since we already hate each other so much so. But then the doorbell rings, and I jump a little, and she chuckles.

I freeze, reliving the night all over again.

The screaming. The bottle. The paper. The tears. The pain. The anger. The terror.

All of it comes back as I realize the worst. I'm not leaving her, she's leaving me. The left side of my brain says that I'll figure it out, and that I've got friends who'll let me live with them, or that I could just live on my own.

Or... or maybe I could find him. My father. I could find him and live with him. But before I can think of anything else, Mom comes back over to me, with a man in a black suit that's too small for his... physique, and blonde hair. He looks very professional.

Well, he looks professional-- he probably works for Ballard.

"Mara, this is Cody. He is a personal bodyguard. My personal bodyguard," she says slyly, and I feel disgusted. She's not just gonna use him for protection. Gross.

Oh shit. He works for Ballard. Stay calm.

Wait, why does she need a bodyguard? Is she in trouble? Is Ballard after her or something?

"Wait, what's going on? Is Ballard after you or something? Is someone- " I'm cut off by mother.

"No, but yes. Ballard is not after me, but someone might be. Now, enough with you Cody, go make yourself comfortable upstairs. I have to talk to my daughter alone."

Cody listens to her and head upstairs. Without the suitcase. I thought it was for him? Is it not? Maybe the money was for him or something. I don't know.

And I don't like that. I don't like not knowing. Mother sits down across the table from me, like before, and then pulls out her purse. That ratched purse. I should've burned it when I had the chance.

"Mara, you are going to enjoy tonight and you are going to savor it. Because someday, all this might be gone. I know it sounds odd but it really isn't. It's simple. A warning. But it's not the only one, as we are going to have new rules. You have to greet us and hug us when you get home from school. No spending more than 4 hours at a crack upstairs. And at dinner you have to explain and elaborate on your day besides 'fine' and 'a lot of homework'."

Thats fucking obsurd!

"Um, okay... but I have a question."

"Shoot."

"Is he your boyfriend, because I'm not gonna hate or anything if he is and your trying to ease me into-" before she cuts me off, I realize that this might have just been the most normal conversation we've had in years.

"No! He is not my boyfriend! And you better not have one either young lady! I've seen the boys you've been hanging around with."

My mouth drops open. Since when does she spy on my love life? Since when have I ever HAD a love life?! Never!

Sure, I spend time with some guy friends, but I don't have a boyfriend! Yeah, I've had crushes in the past, but they either moved away or rejected me. Or both! Sad, but true.

"Uh... okay, I don't have a... boyfriend... and okay fine, he's not your boyfriend. Then why is he here? And what's the suitcase for?" I jumble out, and then realize she's glaring at me again.

Those heartless, souless eyes stare right back at me, warning me that she hasn't had her relaxation time yet. I mutter another 'sorry' and then she nods and speaks.

"Thank you. And the suitcase is for him, as well as money to pay. Now, you are excused from the table. Go on," I bolt out of the chair, but then slow myself down, trying not to seem excited to get back to my homework and music.

Once I get to my room, I can finally relax. Back to it, I pop my earbuds in, press play again, and continue my work.

° THREE WEEKS LATER °

I walk up the street to my house, the blue and white one, and feel light raindrops start to fall. They feel refreshing and almost cleansing, like a fresh start to my day, even though it's almost three thirty.

School ended at three, but I had a Volunteens meeting after until three fifteen. Volunteens is a pretty fun club, just because you get to volunteer around Gotham and help people, for free, and get a sweatshirt or t-shirt for a certain amount of hours.

This meeting was the first in a while with almost everyone there, so that was different. Other than that, the day was normal.

I unlock the front door and step inside, taking out my earbuds and putting them away. I slip my shoes off and start to head upstairs when I run into mother.

She grabs my shoulders, turns me around, and shoves me towards the door with a stronger force than me. I hit my forehead on the door, regaining my balance, and turn around, confused and quickly annoyed. Cody is standing in the hallway with another man behind him.

What the hell is going on?

"Is that her?" The man behind Cody asks.

Cody grunts in response, and then grabs a black suitcase- the same one that mother said was his- and rolls it over to me.

She grins and then hands me my light blue pillowcase and then turns to the man. He steps forward, gives her a clipboard and a pen, and then starts for me.

I lean back against the door, confused and fearful. This seemingly reminds me of the night we had our fight, a couple years ago.

The man looks me up and down, claps, smiles, and turns back to my mother, who hands him the clipboard.

"Amazing, Ms. Novagez, absolutely amazing. You now no longer- "

"Yeah yeah, just get her out of here," Mother cuts him off. I freeze and my eyes go wide, as anxiety blossoms in my stomach. My fingers start to fiddle with one another behind my back.

"M-Mom... what's going on here?" I ask, my voice cracking away my 'strong' facade. I stutter, which makes it even worse.

"Dear, I'm selling you. Simply because I need more drugs and you are gonna give me enough to get through a weeks worth. And a weeks worth is all I need to get a raise," she explains nonchalantly, even so that Cody looks a sliver  of shocked.

My brows furrow and a lump forms in my throat. I can't swallow. The man pushes me away from the door and opens it, leaving. Mother walks away with Cody's arm around her waist, but stops halfway down the hallway.

"I mean, that's what you wanted right? To get away from me? You didn't have to say it for me to see it, so now your headed to the place you've always wanted to go. Your fathers," she turns the corner, and I hear the basement door open and close, and her giggle. I'm full of emotions and thoughts.

Anger, confusion, terror-- all over again. Hurt. Melancholy. Loneliness.

All of it just bubbles to the top and I slide down the wall, and sit on the stairs, waiting for this to either be a dream or a cruel joke.

But no one comes, because it's only been about a minute of sitting. Suddenly, I hear the front door open and hope blossoms in me, but dies almost immediately.

The man with the clipboard is back.

"Hey kiddo, you're gonna come with me. You're headed to your ol' mans. Let's go," he grabs my arm roughly and has me stand next to him.

My what? The hell did he just say?

That alerts me, my eyes widening and my heartbeat picking up, pumping loudly into my ears.

Another man comes in, and I feel threatened. More alert than before, that's for sure. I narrow my eyes and observe him carefully.

He is tall, broad, and looks like a criminal. And most male criminals here are rapists, so yeah, I feel very threatened now. I stand taller and wrangle my anger in, as he grabs my suitcase and pillow, and then watch his every move as he heads out the door. The clipboard man chuckles.

"Honey, if he wanted to hurt you he would've done it already. Plus he's just a big softy on the inside. Now let's go. Your mother does not like her drugs or money to be kept waiting," he practically shoves me out the door and I lose it. I try to push past him and go back inside, but the man grabs my arm tightly amd yanks me backwards, away from my house.

Her house.

I try again, and I fail. Once more, I keep pushing past him as quickly as possible, but he just won't budge. He keeps pulling me farther and farther down the driveway, when suddenly I hit something.

It's hard, and suddenly I'm shoved against it roughly, and I recognize it as a car.

With the other man nearer, he pushed my head down while the other man shoves me back, pushing my chest. My hands come up, but he's already shut the car door.

° 4:27 PM °

The sports car we're driving in moves fast and smooth, which helps as I stare out the window. Everything blurs, which takes my mind off of... everything.

I have my earbuds in to help, but right now it's not really working. Everytime the car comes to a stop, I freeze, thinking that this is it, that this is when I'll meet him, but it's just the stoplights and signs.

We drive like that for a while, when I realize that were in the city-city. Downtown Gotham. Holy crap. He lives in Gotham!?

I'm not ready for this at all. I thought he lived out of state or something like that-- not in the same city as me.

What if I already know who he is? What he knows me? What if I know what he looks like? What if we've spoken?

I need to stop and calm the hell down. I'm gonna look and sound like a freak if I keep rambling down that rabbit hole.

"Hey, kiddo, you know who your father is?" The clipboard guy asks from the front.

I hesitate to answer, but since he turns and looks back at me, I answer.

"No."

He looks surprised at my answer, then looks at the driver guy who seemingly 'is a softy on the inside' with the same expression. The softy guy chuckles and the other man continues.

"Jesus kid, she never told you?"

"No."

"Well then your in for one hell'uva surprise, 'cause you father ain't some biker punk on the street," he pauses and chuckles as well. "You wanna know who your daddy is?"

The way he says it makes me squirm. I feel my anxiety punch my stomach again, creating an even bigger knot. I clear my throat and brace myself for the worst.

"Y-yeah,"

The guy takes a breath, and keeps looking out the front window.

"Kid, your father is Bruce fuckin' Wayne."