Raised by Reapers HTML version

Raised by Reapers 1
My first memory is that of being kidnapped.
It’s not as much as a memory as it is a feeling, the feeling of
being carried like a bag on a strange mans back through dark tunnels
that smelled of mold and death. I don’t remember anything before that.
They brought Adrian when I was five and him seven. He came
in with Raven, looking like a wreck, with untamed blonde hair and
that faded red sweatshirt with the hole in the sleeve. His shoes left
muddy footprints throughout the dwelling. Raven made me clean them
The first time we talked I noticed the pink scar that ran from his
temple to the corner of his mouth on his right cheek. I’d asked what
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he’d sneered. Our conversations
after that remained brief and formal.
Eleven years after that Felix decided I should spend some time
with Adrian to “get him in line.” I didn’t know what I could do but I
never asked questions. I just did what I was told.
I entered the dark sitting room, where Adrian was sprawled on
one of the squishy leather couches reading a thick book. He looked up
when I came in and his green eyes flashed in annoyance.