Enigmas of The Dark

There has always been something wrong with me… For as long as I can remember, I’ve been shunned for the darkness buried inside me — a darkness that sets me apart from everyone else.

From my ink-black curls to my dark brown eyes that rarely held any warmth, everything about me unsettled people. Adults whispered behind my back, and even children looked at me with fear.

I was born an oddity, and today, my crimes because of it will finally face consequences.

I sat on the edge of my queen-sized bed, staring down at my black cotton-gloved hands while my dark curls curtained my face.

These gloves were the only thing keeping everyone safe from me.

Ever since I was six years old, when I touched an unlucky boy at a birthday party with my bare hands, I’d been forced to wear them.

For reasons no one could explain, skin-to-skin contact with me caused people to collapse instantly, their bodies weakening as if life itself had been drained from them. I’d never touched someone for longer than five seconds, but even that was enough to leave them hospitalized.

Until last week.

Last week, everything changed.

A knock at the door made my heart stutter, my head snapping toward it instantly.

When no one entered after a few seconds, my gaze drifted back to my lap. “C-come in,” I murmured softly.

The wooden door creaked open, and of course, it was my mother.

“Raven? Everything alright?”

I barely looked at her. I’d never been much of a liar, especially not with my mom. She was the only person who had stayed beside me through everything — the only one willing to carry the burden that came with loving me. I couldn’t bring myself to look her in the eyes and pretend I was fine after what had happened.

“Raven…” Her voice faltered.

She stepped fully into the room before slowly sitting beside me on the bed.

My mother hesitated for a moment before slowly reaching toward my shoulder, her fingers brushing against the purple-and-black striped fabric of my shirt.

Instinctively, I flinched away from her touch.

The movement was small, but the hurt that flashed across her face made guilt twist in my stomach immediately.

“Raven…” she whispered again, softer this time. “Honey, you don’t have to pull away from me.”

I kept my eyes locked on my gloved hands. “You shouldn’t touch me.”

A heavy silence settled between us.

My mother let out a shaky breath before trying to smile, even though I could hear the exhaustion hiding underneath it. “What happened last week wasn’t your fault.”

My jaw tightened instantly.

The high school after-party flashed through my mind in broken pieces — the music, the screaming, a boy named Jacob collapsing beneath my hands while people stared at me like I was some kind of monster.

“I hurt him,” I muttered quietly.

“You didn’t mean to.”

“But I still did it.” My voice cracked. “Mom… he might die, I mean he's on a ventilator.”

She moved closer despite my obvious tension. “Listen to me.”

For the first time since she entered the room, I finally looked at her.

Tears shimmered in her tired eyes, but there wasn’t fear in them. Only heartbreak.

“You are not evil, Raven.”

“That Thomson boy came onto you at the party,” my mother said firmly. “He touched you after you asked him not to. He pushed your boundaries and touched your face anyway. He’s the one who—”

I turned toward her sharply.

“Mom, that still doesn’t justify anything.”

The words came out harsher than I intended, but once they started, I couldn’t stop them.

“We still don’t know what’s wrong with my skin, and I know how dangerous it is. Yet I still snuck out of the house last Sunday.” My throat tightened painfully. “I’m the one who went to his stupid party thinking I could pretend to be a normal girl for one night.”

My fingers curled tightly against my gloves.

“And then the one guy who actually showed interest in me despite all the rumors—despite how freakish everyone thinks I am—I end up putting him in the hospital and his family into heartbreak.”

My voice cracked near the end, emotion clawing its way through every word.

“It is my fault, Mom.”

I swallowed hard, staring at the floor because I couldn’t bear to look at her anymore.

“Now we’re in this situation because of me.”

The room fell silent except for the quiet sound of rain tapping against my bedroom window.

“H-he’ll pull through,” my mother whispered, though even she didn’t sound completely certain.

I clasped my gloved hands tightly together, forcing myself not to shake.

“Yeah… but I don’t even know if that makes me feel a hundred percent better.” I laughed bitterly under my breath. “My classmates fear me, and his friends are scared of me. His family is suing us, and if he does get better, then it just adds another person to the list of people who think I’m some kind of monster.”

My chest tightened painfully.

“Everyone in Auburn already suspects something’s wrong with me. Ever since I was six years old and that boy collapsed at the birthday party…” I swallowed hard. “People have looked at me differently ever since.”

My eyes drifted toward the rain-streaked window.

“Now because of the riots that been coming to the house, The cops and even the judge are suggesting we leave town,” I muttered quietly. “But I know what they think.”

I could feel my throat burning now.

“They think I’m evil too.”

A voice suddenly echoed from downstairs.

“Beatrice?” my dad called. “He's here.”

The tension in the room instantly thickened.

My mother quickly wiped beneath her eyes before standing from the bed, trying to pull herself back together. By the time she reached the bedroom door, her expression had softened into something tired but composed.

Her hand rested against the wooden frame.

“Finish packing your suitcase, okay?” she said quietly. “Your uncle wants to leave before the storm gets worse.”

My stomach twisted at the reminder.

Uncle Lucien.

The mysterious relative I’d barely met more than twice in my entire life was suddenly willing to take me in after eighteen years of silence. The whole thing felt wrong.

Still, I gave a small nod.

“Okay.”

Mom hesitated like she wanted to say something else, but instead she gave me one last sad look before leaving the room and softly shutting the door behind her.

Silence settled around me again.

Slowly, I pushed myself off the bed and glanced around my bedroom.

It had changed a lot over the years.

When I was little, every inch of it had been covered in pastel ponies and glittery decorations, the kind of room belonging to a normal little girl with normal dreams. But after the incident, things slowly became duller.

Purple was everywhere. Deep violet walls, dark lavender bedding, and black-painted wooden trim running along the edges of the room. A fuzzy purple rug spread beneath my black sneakers, while matching black dressers sat against the walls.

On top of one dresser rested a framed family photo.

I crossed the room and picked it up.

It was the oldest photograph we owned.

Dad held me in his arms while Mom leaned against his shoulder, both of them smiling as if the future held nothing but promise. I couldn’t have been more than a few months old.

It was the only physical proof that my parents had once touched my bare skin without fear.

Before gloves.

Before doctors.

Before anyone knew what I was.

A shaky breath escaped me as I carefully tucked the photograph between folded clothes inside my suitcase.

Gripping the handle, I took one last look around my room before forcing myself toward the door.

The house felt strangely quiet as I descended the wooden staircase.

Halfway down, I spotted him.

“Raven.”

My uncle’s voice was smooth, almost unnervingly relaxed, as though we were reuniting after a pleasant absence instead of eighteen years apart.

“It’s been far too long, my dear.”

I paused on the second-to-last step, my suitcase resting against the stairs beside me.

“Uncle Lucien...”

He looked nothing like I’d imagined.

At first glance, he didn’t even resemble my mother.

Where she had warm olive skin and dark brown waves that bordered on black, Lucien’s complexion was strikingly pale, making his jet-black hair appear even darker. The color matched my own almost perfectly. Soft dimples appeared when he smiled, contrasting oddly with the sharp angles of his chiseled jaw and high cheekbones. His dark brown eyes studied me with quiet curiosity behind a pair of crimson-framed glasses that seemed far too bold for someone his age.

He was tall—well over six feet—with a lean but strong build hidden beneath an impeccably tailored black trench coat that fell to his calves.

Beneath it, he wore a charcoal waistcoat over a crisp black dress shirt buttoned neatly to the collar, paired with tailored slacks and polished leather boots that looked untouched by the rain outside.

He looked less like a man arriving to pick up his niece...

...and more like someone who had stepped out of another world entirely.

“It’s been far too long since I’ve seen you,” Lucien said, his smile warm but measured. “How old were you the last time? Five? Six?”

I searched my memory, but nothing came.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe I’d simply forgotten.

Unsure of what to say, I settled for a small shrug.

My parents exchanged a glance before Mom stepped forward with an apologetic smile.

“It’s been such a long time, Lucien,” she said. “She’s just a little shy.”

His smile softened knowingly.

“Yes...” he murmured. “I remember.”

Dad came over then, stopping beside me.

“You have everything?” he asked quietly.

I nodded.

“Yeah.”

He gave a brief nod in return, but never quite met my eyes.

His hazel gaze lingered somewhere over my shoulder, his usually tidy brown hair left tousled as though he’d been running a hand through it all morning.

The past week had aged him.

Between the lawsuit, the whispers around town, and the angry relatives demanding justice for Jacob, sleep had become a luxury none of us could afford.

He’d been an ordinary man living an ordinary life in a quiet New Hampshire town.

Then I happened.

And ever since, “ordinary” had become something our family could only remember.

I got down the steps, and when I looked back, Lucien was in front of me with his arm in front. "I suppose I should treat our meeting like the first time."

I looked at his outstretched left hand; his hands looked so pale but so perfect, not a blemish or scar in sight.

We shook hands, then my parents' shoulders relaxed in the corner of my eye.

"Do you want a drink or anything?" My mom asked as she was about to go inside the kitchen archway.

Lucien’s eyes lingered on me for a moment before he turned to my mother with a gentle smile.

“No, thank you, Denise. I’m quite alright. Though I’d be happy to help Raven carry her things to the car.”

Mom smiled politely before her gaze flicked to my bag, then back to me, silently urging me to hand it over.

Something about the way she and Uncle Lucien spoke to each other felt... strange. They didn’t sound like siblings.

Maybe it was because they lived so far apart. Mom always told me he lived in Vermont, where he oversaw a boarding academy tucked away in the mountains. Six hours was enough time for people to drift apart, I supposed.

The closest comparison I could make was an employee standing before their boss, careful with every word, eager not to make a mistake. It was subtle, but impossible to ignore once you noticed it.

As Lucien reached for my bag, Dad stepped in first and lifted it from beside me.

“What am I doing?” he said with an awkward laugh, shaking his head. “You’re our guest and family. I’ll take it to the car.”