I don’t think I slept long; at one moment I was in the darkness, and then I was in my room, sitting in my bed. The silence around me was loud, and the clock on my table was shining in green light at 04:47 a.m. I decided to go and check if my mom was in her room.

I got out of bed, and the old floor made a loud noise. I opened the door slowly so no one could hear it. The house was very old; it was built in the 1800s by my great-great-great grandfather, so the walls were thin and the house made a lot of noise, more than it should. At times, it felt like the house was talking to me. The house has changed a lot since its original look because every generation added or removed something from the previous one; if they hadn’t worked on the house, it would not be standing here in the same place all this time. I didn’t know much about the history of my family; I just knew that we were one of the first families to start living in this town, which was not a town back then, just a big village. One of my grandfathers was mayor of the town, but many weird stories kept circulating about him back then because he was elected at a very bad time in the history of that place, at the time when the first big tragedies started to happen, or so I was told.

There I was, waking up from my deep thoughts, standing in front of my mother's bedroom door. If I opened this door and saw her sleeping in her bed, I could finally catch some sleep as well, and I would not have to worry about the nightmares anymore. But If I opened the door and she wasn’t there, what then?

I slowly opened the door, and I couldn’t see her in the bed. My mind was going crazy, but like every human, I started thinking of alternatives. Maybe she left earlier for work that morning? Or is she in the bathroom? Who knows? I had to wait, and that’s all I can do now.

I got back to my room, and I was afraid of sleeping, but just before I thought that I would be awake all night, once again I fell asleep, and this time there were no nightmares; I was safe, but what I didn’t know is that the nightmare was waiting for me when I woke up.

I woke up, and honestly, I was happy. I slept very well; I didn’t have any bad dreams, and I felt well-rested. If only it could be like this every time I thought to myself. I got out of my room, went down the big wooden staircase, skipped the last step like every other normal human being, and headed toward the kitchen. There I found my grandmother, sunk in the wooden chair with her hands on her face. I could tell that she was crying.

“What is wrong?” I sat down next to her and hugged her.

“Your mother never returned. I was waiting for her last night, but I fell asleep on the sofa. This morning she wasn’t in her room or her office; I checked.” A tear went down her face. “I don’t know where she is.”

“Maybe she just left earlier. Don’t worry, she is safe.” I felt bad seeing her like that, devastated. I wanted to make her feel better, even for a moment, but finding the right words was difficult.

The feeling that something bad was going to happen made me think about my nightmare again. All the blood, my mother’s screams I shook my head, trying to get rid of the bad thoughts, which didn’t help. What if something really is wrong? Should we call the police? I opened my mouth to say something; now I can’t even remember what, but before I could say anything, a doorbell rang. My grandma and I looked at the door.

“Could this be her?” I heard a ray of hope in my grandmother’s voice.

“I’ll go check.”

I opened the door, and there I saw two police officers. One was a female police officer I hadn’t seen before, and the other one I knew was Detective Brown. I met Detective Brown the day my father disappeared. I knew him before; that is, I heard of him, but I met him officially for the first time during my father’s disappearance. He was the one who led the investigation. Behind them, by the car in my driveway, stood Officer Brooks, Isaac’s father; he was lighting a cigarette.

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The first thing I thought of was, “Fuck, somehow they know what we did the other day with the smoke bombs; we are caught.”

But then I looked at Detective Brown; his eyes carried sadness; he wasn’t mad.

Then I thought, “This doesn’t look like I am in trouble; did they find my father's body?”

Then Detective Brown opened his mouth; his rough voice said something my ears didn’t pick up.

“Excuse me?”

Again, I couldn’t hear him, but tears started running down my cheeks. The world stopped. Somehow my brain picked up the information.

Why would that happen now? Wasn’t that monster dead? How? How? How? How?

I didn’t even notice when my grandmother showed up behind me; she fell down on the floor and screamed and cried her soul out. I started uncontrollably laughing. I tried to shut myself up by putting my hands over my mouth. My mother was dead. My mother has been killed.

—————————————————————————————

They didn’t say much, only that they found her near the South entrance in the woods. They didn’t want to go into the details because it was an ongoing investigation. All they said was that she was killed, and they were looking for clues—anything that could help them find and catch the killer. They asked us some basic questions, but not much. When was she last seen? Did she act weird? All that nonsense. Then they stood up and said that they would come back later for some more questions, but for now, they would let us “rest”.

How can we rest? How can I rest? Did I dream of my mother's death? Or was that just a coincidence? It must’ve been. The only way that was true was if he was back. If he was somehow alive. And I knew that was not possible. I took care of that. I had to see something to check if he was really back. I had to go to the police station to see my mother's body.

My grandma begged me to stay, and I couldn’t. I said I remembered something to tell the police, and I rushed out of the house. The wind was cold that day, but the day was hot. The mix of hot and cold made my head feel heavy, or was it because my thoughts were fighting for dominance inside my head?

When I arrived at the police station, everything was in chaos. Officers were racing through the halls; their desks were cluttered with case files, maps, and coffee cups. The atmosphere was tense and heavy. The phones kept ringing one after another, and the hum of ringing phones and radios just added to the chaos. I grabbed the first police officer by his shirt and said, “I have to talk to Detective Brown.”

“Not now, kid,” he shrugged me off, “Don’t you see I’m busy?”

“But my mo-“ I couldn’t even finish what I was saying; he was already gone. I had to catch someone who couldn’t escape that easily. I ran to the first desk.

“I need to talk to Detective Brown; I’m the son of the murdered woman. It is urgent.”

A girl sitting behind the desk put her phone down. She put her hair in a ponytail and said, “Follow me.”

Detective Brown’s office was a reflection of him and his personality. The walls were covered in many notes, and they were connected with strings, just showing how complex a case can be. Shelves were filled with books and binders. A well-worn leather chair sits behind what seems to be a new desk, where he probably spends hours every day. The faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air; he wasn’t going to sleep much these days if what I thought was true. The blinders were covering the windows, and the light was dimmed, creating a weird but focused intensity. No wonder he was known as the best detective in the history of the town; he was just unlucky to be here at the time of The Crow's reign.

He was looking at the map of the town when I walked in; he looked focused and deep in his thoughts. But the moment I walked in, he noticed me.

“Can I help you?” he said.

“I need to see my mother.”

“I don’t think that is a smart idea, kid.” He scratched his face.

“But I just need to.”

He got on one knee and put his hand on my shoulder.

“Trust me on this one, kid. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you.” He stood up and told a police officer passing by to see me off at the station.

In a way that gave me an answer—a scary one, an answer I didn’t want to hear. But that couldn’t stop me; I had to be sure. I had to find a way to see the body.