Breaking the

RAVEN

“Ugh,”. Rachel, my best friend, says entering my apartment with a familiarity that spoke of years of comfortable friendship.

“I had the busiest day today”

“Yeah”, I call out from the couch, sitting up.

My apartment had an open floor plan, so as soon as she entered the apartment I had a full view of her. Her ginger hair is pulled back into a chignon, giving her a sleek, professional look, and, as usual, the only bit of make-up on her face is a bold red lip.

Her green pantsuit is tailored perfectly like it was made for her, and knowing her, it probably was. Rachel was a PR manager, and she was one of the best there was. She could spin stories, and she could make even the most hardened psychopathic criminal seem like a friendly neighborhood guard, and for her skills she was very well compensated.

“You know the frost reapers” she asks, already walking into the kitchen and taking a drink of water.

“That will be the hockey team, right?”

“Yes, the hockey team” she says with an exhausted breath and takes a seat at the kitchen counter. I get up from my couch and walk over to the counter in the kitchen, stopping to take a seat opposite her.

“Okay sweetie, talk to me.”

“So there was a police raid at a club and one of the players was caught with drugs in hand.”

“Okayyyyy” I lean forward into my chair, genuinely confused as to where she’s going with this.

“There was a live video taken of the entire thing. I have been running myself ragged trying to do damage control, but sweetheart, it’s not going well. " It’s like every time you plug in a leak, there is another one. I spoke to all the members of the team about not speaking to reporters but no one could get hold of the captain.

I arch a brow. “He is the captain, isn’t he supposed to be on top of these types of situations?” I reach over to the wine and wine glasses on the table, but Rachel takes the wine out of my hand and pours herself some wine.

“Yes well Nick keeps well out of anything that has to do with PR, but at least I can count on his silence because of his pathological need for privacy,” she says, rolling her eyes as she takes a big drink of her wine.

“Keeping it off camera, huh?” She pulls out a chair and sits down, folding one leg under the other.

She scoffs “Yeah, he is incredibly private”. I study her face and note the lines of strain around her eyes that seem deeper than usual and the new grooves in her nails, a telltale sign of her stress.

“Hey listen Rachel I…” I start, but she turns away from me and sighs.

“I hate it when you do that”, her voice is sharp.

“Do what?”

“That thing you do when you become all observant, and you notice things that I don’t want you to”

“It’s not my fault”, I shrug apologetically.

“I know, I know, it’s instinct at this point”. She turns back to me and her shoulder droops and her voice softens. “It’s just that sometimes you see too much, and sometimes I don’t want you to see.”

“Rachel, can you tell me what’s really going on? This has to be about more than a hockey player getting caught with drugs. You've dealt with worse things and handled them successfully."

“You’re right, it’s more than that, but I can handle it”. I take her hand in mine, squeezing it tight, she squeezes my hand back.

“If there is anything you need, I want you to know that I am here. I will always be here.” I give her a supportive smile.

“I know that Raven. Thank you”

My phone rings and the name that flashes across my screen makes me wince.

I ignore it, but Rachel's eyes are still on my phone, her head is tilted.

“You know you never told me where your dad sent you for that last job.”

“Rachel, I can’t talk to you about that, and you know it.”

“I know, but you can at least tell me where you were, can’t you? I know I don’t have the greatest relationship with your father.”

I scoff “that’s an understatement.”

“But it’s you I care about. You are the one friend I have in the entire world, and sometimes you disappear for months on end and I don’t see you, or hear from you.” Her voice cracks. “Sometimes I don’t even know if you are alive.” I watch her as she starts pacing the length of the kitchen

“Rachel”

“You say you’ll always be here if I want to talk, but sometimes, I feel like you won’t be. You go out and do all these dangerous things for your dad, a man who sees you as property by the way. One day, I’m just scared you won’t be sitting on that couch when I walk through that door.”

“Poland, Gdańsk to be precise.” She whirls to face me.

“What?”

“You asked me where I was, so I’m telling you. I was in Poland, and before that, I was in Italy, Rome.”

“Oh!” She blinks, guilt flashing in her eyes. "Oh, well, I’m sorry for the melt-down. I’m just worried about you.”

“I know you are, and you have no idea how I want to be able to tell you everything that happens to me, but Rach, you know I can’t. It is to protect you.”

“I know all of that, but it would be nice if I at least knew where you were.”

I raise my hands and give her a cheeky smile. “I’m sorry, next time, before leaving, I will make sure to leave a note.”

I get a text on my phone and immediately, it rings. I pick it up and answer

“Hello, father”, the line is silent before a gravelly voice as familiar to me as my own speaks.

“Raven, my dear, how are you?” From a normal father that endearment would have meant there was a loving relationship between him and his child, but with my father it was a sign of ownership. It was like a brand on my forehead.

“I am fine Dad, do you need something?”

“Raven, I taught you better than that” to an average person, his voice sounds chiding, like a father trying to convince his toddler that she has had too many sweets, but I recognize the tone. It is a warning.

“I am sorry, father, but you never call if you don’t have something important to tell me.”

“Come by tomorrow. Let us break our fast together. It has been too long.” As usual, he doesn’t acknowledge my apologies, he brushes it away like it means nothing.

“Yes father” I respond, because that is the only answer that is acceptable. He ends the call before I can say anything else.

“I’m guessing you’re being summoned, huh?” Rachel interjects as soon as I put my phone down. We share a look and burst out laughing.

“He has wonderful timing, doesn’t he?” Rachel asks, still chuckling.

“He really does” I respond, some of my amusement fading.

Rachel raises her wine glass for a toast “To crappy fathers”

I raise my glass and respond “To crappy fathers”.

We clink our glasses, but Rachel’s phone rings, interrupting.

“The job is never over, huh?” I feel a smile playing on my lips.

“All day, every day”

“Tell me about it” she picks up her phone and answers.

“Rachel Harper speaking”

I don’t hear what the person on the other end says, but Rachel pales and her eyes fly to mine and, for a second, I recognize the emotion that flashes in her eyes, before she turns her face away. It’s fear, pure unadulterated fear.

Her face shutters and she is in complete control of her emotions when she answers whoever is on the line.

“Yes, of course I will meet you there.” Immediately she slips on her shoes and starts walking towards the door of my apartment. I follow quickly on her heels.

“Hey! Rachel” I call out tentatively, but she continues walking.

I grab her hand, but she wrenches it out of mine. “What’s going on?”

She stops, but she doesn’t look back at me.

“You are going to be here right” her voice is quiet but intense. I nod my head even though she can’t see me.

“Yes Rachel, always. I will always be here”

She lets out a shuddering breath before turning to face me.

“Great. I’ll call you in two hours. She pauses, like she wants to say something else, but she just shakes her head. "Don’t go anywhere, okay”. She doesn’t meet my eyes.

“Okay” she gives me a tight-lipped smile and walks out the door. This time I let her, fully aware that she is lying.

Two hours later my phone rings. I don't recognize the number and immediately, I am filled with dread.

“Raven Derian speaking”

“Good evening Miss Derian. I am sorry to inform you that one Miss Rachel Harper was found dead.”

My chest suddenly feels too tight. It feels like there is a bucket of concrete just sitting on my chest and I notice a ringing in my ear. I think the person on the line has ended the call, but they are still saying something, but I don't hear it over the roaring in my ears.