Chapter Text
He woke up with a jolt. Gasping for air. As if he’d been falling and was pulled from a nightmare just before hitting the floor.
The room smelled rancid. Like when his parents forgot about the cod they had planned to cook for a potluck and it rotted. The fridge had stunk for weeks.
He groaned.
The floor was cold.
Why was he on the floor?
He struggled to prop himself up, sitting hunched over with his hands between his legs as he tried to remember what was going on. But his thoughts were scattered, it felt like trying to catch spirits with a fishing net. Pointless.
His throbbing head turned towards the sound of shuffling feet, only for light to assault his eyes. He raised a hand to block the vibrant luminescent lights of the basement.
The basement?
It was only then he noticed the deep viscous red coating his hand two hooded figures looming over him.
A surge of panic ran through him before he recognized the hooded figures as his parents.
God his parents were so weird.
He opened his mouth to speak only to break out into a coughing fit. Neither his mother nor father made a move to help him. Instead they turned away from him to whisper— rather loudly— between themselves.
“. . . Wha—” he paused, startled by his own voice. It was so hoarse he almost didn’t recognize it as his own. He raised a hand to the back of his neck. Coating it in that red gummy liquid.
How was he just now realizing how sore he felt?
It seemed, however, his parents had finally deemed him worthy of their attention, as they turned to look at him. But something was wrong. Their usually cheery demeanor gone, expressions unusually guarded. They stared at him with a strange intensity— which was hilarious considering their earlier indifference— they looked like they were waiting for a pin to drop, or for him to drop dead.
“What’s going on?” He carped.
Their eyes widened. Relief flooding their faces.
Then his mother laughed. An uncanny sound for something she does so often.
He didn’t get the chance to try and place what was so off about it as the laughter abruptly cut off.
“Honestly this is all your fault! I told you that he was too young to learn such advanced spells. And now look what's happened,” She said, stopping to make a show of gesturing at—- well all of him before continuing, “He went and tried to save the cat all by himself—”
“Raven?” A wave of fear washed over him.
Oh god, what happened to Raven? Is she okay? Obviously not if I had to save her. What was he supposed to tell—
“Oh don't you worry, she’s perfectly fine now. Resurrected just fine." She cooed, cutting through his spiraling thoughts. "You on the other hand couldn't handle the strain the spell put on your body and passed out.” she tutted disapprovingly, before elbowing her husband.
Disgruntled, his father chimed in, “You know you're not supposed to preform these types of spells without us, and this is exactly why. Honestly, what are we going to do with you? I understand you cherished that cat but you shouldn’t have risked getting caught like that! I mean honestly what if someone saw her die? What would they think when she just shows up alive and—” His mothers icy glare cut him off.
“ANYWAYS, everything is fine now. Everything was fixed. Everything is back as it was. Everybody is alive and well.” His mom prattled on, though it sounded more like she was reassuring herself more than anything else.
“How about you go upstairs and wash off all that blood and I’ll go prep dinner” His father said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
egh. After he had tried so hard to ignore the scarlet guck clinging to his skin. Why was he so covered in blood anyways?
And so that was that. The incident was never mentioned again.
Rev Vennet would never asked about what happened to Raven.
He'd never ask about why there was so much blood.
He'd never ask where the white streaks in his hair came from.
And he'd never ask about the gaps in his memory.
So Rev Vennett would never know what happened that day.
Just as he’d never know about the consolation gifts in the mail.
Or the pitying looks his parents were given whenever seen out in the town.
He’d never know about the funeral.
And the town would never know about the empty coffin.