And If You Wrong Us

Part 9: The Fall

Abruptly the path ended in a wall with a window. He skidded to a halt and wrenched at the window, trying to pry it open; it wouldn't budge. He turned towards the figure following him, shuddering.

"What do you want?" he yelled, bracing himself against the window pane.

The small form liquefied from the darkness and pooled before him until it was one, solid being, hair as red as the blood dripping from the walls. One delicate finger pointed down. Mr. Raven's eyes followed the finger's path. A man laid dead on the floor before him, covered in his own blood and vomit.

"Mayor Pemberly...but why?" He looked back up at the red-haired fiend. "Why would you kill your own family?"

The face in the shadows split into a smile, and that thin finger lifted to its lips.

Mr. Raven jolted awake, cold sweat pouring down his neck. His breath came in shallow gasps. He ripped the bed covers from his body and went to the window, throwing it open, drinking in the night air with unfettered desperation.

"Your first year as Mayor has been an absolute success." Sarah beamed at Mr. Raven from across his new desk, handing him a glass of water.

Mr. Raven did not lift his hand. "I'm surprised you came."

Sarah put the glass down with a clink. "Well, it seemed rude to refuse the invitation. And I have missed Sophie and the children."

"Sophie isn't here anymore, nor Charles and Angelique." His eyes swept over the family photo on his desk. "Isn't this..." Mr. Raven squirmed in his seat. "Doesn't it feel strange to be here?"

Sarah's lips twitched. His fingers found the cameo on his necklace. "Because of my father's death?"

"No. Because of the memories."

His hands found each other at his waist and clasped together, tight. "Well, it's — it's a mix of things, Mr. Raven. Not all of my memories are bad."

"Really?" Mr. Raven slammed a drawer of the desk shut; Sarah jumped. He rounded the furniture and stood in front of Sarah, frowning down at him. "What good memories do you have of this place, Miss Pemberly?"

His lips parted, but no words emerged. He held Mr. Raven's stare.

"You said your father sent you to the asylum, when you were a child. For being disobedient? Seems like a ridiculously harsh punishment. Wouldn't you agree, Miss Pemberly?"

Sarah's hands balled into fists and dropped down to his sides. "What are you doing?"

Mr. Raven's gaze shifted to Sarah's hands, then back up to his face. "Did he ever touch you, Miss Pemberly?"

"In what way? As a father touches his daughter? With love and comfort?" He shuddered.

"Did he ever hit you, Miss Pemberly?"

His face contorted. "I'm not sure why you're asking."

"Did he belittle you? Make you feel like less than a person?" Mr. Raven began pacing back and forth. "Did he call you names? Did he tell you that you were never good enough?"

Sarah's hands shook. "What does this have to do with anything?" he hissed.

"Did he touch you, Miss Pemberly?" Mr. Raven yelled, stopping suddenly in front of Sarah and leaning towards him. "Did he grab you? Did he grope you?"