I had become more aware of my surroundings. With my obscured vision, I trembled up the mountainous stairs, to find comfort in my divan. The wind blundered and blasted the shutters allowing shivers to roar down my spine. I drew the covers restlessly over my body. Sleep would not grace me with its presence as I tossed and turned, thrashing about the bed. Why did it feel so unwelcoming, so foreign to my touch? My eyes drifted towards the window in search of comfort. Wind cried from the heavens as the maleficent feathered silhouette made himself known. My vision began to haze as my eyes settled into the crevices of my head. I couldn’t take it anymore, the fierce gaze of the raven was too much for my heart to bear. I clambered to my feet and made my way to the kitchen, stumbling through the halls as the wine took effect. As I clung to the kitchen door-frame, there it was; my means to an end. With an unholy determination, I grabbed the pearl gripped revolver that lay on the kitchen counter besides the key to the cabinet. How it got there, I haven’t the slightest idea. I was inhibited within an ineludibly eternal oblivion.
My mind filled with hatred towards the ruffled being as my sweaty palms grasped the bronze handle that I flung open with the desire to end this misery bestowed within my soul. I had of **** it for this misery to end, I was compelled to end its life. The raven vanished as if knowing my pursuit.
This was it. Barefoot I ran, though my legs were long past exhaustion, I kept running. Trepidation had driven all other thoughts from my mind, leaving the only instinctive urge to abscond. And so I ran.