Chapter 2 Ravenna

"Bluidy hell!" Ravenna cursed beneath her breath while she raked her meticulously manicured fingers through her wavy jet-black hair. The kind of anger and frustration that could burn down mighty historical cities to the ground swelled up on her insides.

Her 1980s milky Ford had broken down in the middle of nowhere. AKA middle of the lonely dark street.

Since she lived in a small village, finding help seems almost impossible. It would take only the grace of the almighty for someone to show up. The street was literally empty.

And she was running late for work!

Darkness enveloped the street since the sky was without stars and the moon hadn't show up today. The only light that brightened the path before her was the headlamp of her car.

Despite stuck in the middle of the dark street, clutching her steering, dressed a brown blouse tucked in a black pencil skirt...peace, perfect peace rushed through her.

Today, she freed herself from her obnoxious boss.

Working as Mr. Remington's secretary was hell.

She worked way harder than any other employee, she spent sleepless nights – even after working at the strip club –cross-checking and preparing cost reports, scheduling and rescheduling travelling arrangements, handling both rude and polite visitors. Well, to crown all her selfless efforts, at the end of every month, she got peanuts.

She couldn't ride a nice car; she couldn't for the sake of Christ keep up the old car she inherited from her grandpa.

Concerning household expenses and utilities, her punk rocker mind mocked her by playing a short video tape based on what had happened earlier in the morning. Piles of bills that almost plucked out her eyes was mailed to her. Comparing the cost of bills with her current credit account balance, she had stuffed the bills in a coffee mug and declared herself in a state of penury. After the evaluation, she had left for work with her resignation letter.

It still surprised her that the tips she got from dancing on the strip club surpassed her monthly salary...

...sounds like a fluke but Rave was a walking testimony that such cruelty indeed existed.

It only made sense to quit.

She unbuckled the seat belt that strapped her against the driver's seat, picked up her shoulder bag that sat beside her on the passenger's seat, unlocked the door, and heaved a sign, before stepping away from the maddening car.

The cold breeze of the night kissed her body with a sharp shudder. She clutched her shoulder bag to her chest and trudged to the footway. She paused there for a while.

After a while, a glowing light shone some distance away from on her. It was luckily coming towards her direction. A glimmer of hope welled up in her heart. As the taxicab drew closer, she shot out her hands and waved down, signaling the cab driver to stop.

Unfortunately, silence saluted her. That was it. The taxicab was gone, the cab driver not sparing her a glance, somehow raising dust at her. The road was untarred.

She lightly patted her chest.

A random but expensive idea chimed into her mind. She uneasily rummaged through the content of her shoulder bag for her mobile phone. She surprisingly found it. Her boyfriend could be the savior she needed at the moment. She quickly dialed in Rob's phone number and pressed the call option. The call directly switched to a voicemail. After trying a few more time, she threw in her mobile into her bag.

"I seriously don't deserve this." She muttered to herself.

She didn't really have a lot of friends. And since she recently transferred to Coshocton, she wasn't sure of whom to call. The landlord of her cottage was an old snub plus it would be unfair of her to call him. It was almost midnight; he must be snoring in his cozy bed. She envied him.

Her cell phone buzzed from inside her shoulder bag. Relief watched over her when she discovered the caller was Rob.

"Babe?" Her favorite voice called, the concern in his tone warmed her heart.

"Rob? Oh my, thanks for calling back. My car-Hello? Rob?"

Hell no, her bluidy phone died.

She restrained herself from smashing her phone on the pavement. Fvck my life, she yelled in her head.

Now, her options of survival were not vast. She had only three choices. She could sleep in her car, stand on the pavement until it was morning, or trek all the way home.

She leaped off from the pavement, jerked open the door to her car, grabbed her pistol. She had found the gun in her late foster-father's closet.

It was necessary that she be on guard. She was a girl; the world is no longer safe for them girls with the lots of pervs lurking in the dark. A pepper spray would've been convenient but Rave always forgot in her kitchen, mistaking the dang thing for some kind of ketchup. She once used it to pepper her chicken.

Luckily, she found a touch at the back seat. She keyed up the doors. Satisfied, she settled her mind on trekking.

For the past ten minutes, she quietly loped on the pavement. The road was now terrifying her guts out. It was narrow. No cars used the driveway. No other person but her walked on the cold street. She glanced at her wristwatch. 11:45pm she accurately observed. She had spent most of the day clearing and tidying up few patches in her former workplace.

The only sounds that went around her were that of the crickets chirping in their warm holes.

A strong wind blew away her loose locks from her shoulder and set it dancing in the air. She folded her arms across her breasts and hastened up her pace.

She adamantly opposed to worry about her 1980s Ford model, the piles of bills in her coffee mug, or her source of income she lost...she was convinced beyond doubts that brooding over spilled milk was a waste. At least Rob promised to help.

She felt being watched.

She paused abruptly and cast a quick glance over her shoulder. Her heart thumped loudly. Her hand reached for her pistol.

Zitch.

She saw no one, heard no invading sounds.

Not open for chances, she began to walk-run. Her cottage was not far from where she was. Just shy from a stone throw.

All she longed for was to walk into her cottage unharmed. Bolt her doors properly. Take a warm refreshing shower. Eat some hot spaghetti. Slip into her cozy bed and have her full night's rest.

Apparently, she was no going to her other work today as she planned. She's call in ill once she got home and charged her celly. Hopefully, she wouldn't get fired.

A moving sound in the bush close by figuratively pushed her legs to fly.

Weird thoughts mingled in her mind. Her pulse picked race.

Thud, thud, thud, her heart pounded.

She dragged her tired leg to buckle up. They must move faster. She wouldn't die tonight. Not on the cold street. Not in her cottage.

As she imagined what the news headline would display like, Tragic Animal Attack in Coshocton: The bones of an unidentified victim. She shuddered at the thought.

She had always to imagined herself to die in her sleep when she's in her late 80s.

Not up to three minutes later, shadows circle her.

Not literal shadows, masked thugs.

They all wore the same mask. A good number of guns pointed at her. She had her pistol pointed at them too. Not until two frightening thoughts jingled in her mind.

The pistol wasn't loaded and she couldn't practically fire a gun.

Amidst fear and the cold chills that wired into her body, she dropped off her pistol, and rose up her hands in surrender.

She immediately regretted her action.