Disclaimer: The idea for the Crow belongs to James O'Barr and Kitchen Sink Comics. The idea is just being borrowed for non-profit entertainment. The story belongs to me, Magik, the author.

Slight warning: There's some bad language in this. Gets an R for the language and the violence.

    Erin felt the water fill her lungs as the cold woke her up from a warm sleep. For a minute she trashed about wildly, trying to free herself from the ropes. Kevin! he mind cried out and her eyes strained against the murky water to see.

    There he was. Kevin. He still in the boat, his body motionless and one hand caught in the propeller. Kevin had been the perfect boyfriend and the all around great guy. Kevin...

    Something in her heart died as she looked at his slack body and then the darkness of death closed over her. Darkness and something else. A light reached towards her but all Erin could do was think to herself one last time, Kevin! Oh God, those bastards killed him. Kevin.

    And so heavy was her heart with hate and revenge that the light drew away from her and all that was left was a crow's caw and a pair of gentle black wings...

"Kevin," she hissed the word under her breath as she stood at the shore of the lake. "Poor, dead Kevin."

Erin ran a hand through her slack black hair, twisting some of the strands around her long fingers as she gazed out at the lake. The dark eyes, rimmed in black face paint stared at the center of the lake, as her mind recalled the image of Kevin, hand caught in the propeller, dying. It was almost too much for her, she almost dove into the water so it could fill her lungs and drown her.

Instead, Erin screamed as the banshees screamed. Such a deep mournful howl that it shook the sleeping hearts of men to their core and then soared into the heavens to still the furnaces of the stars. To Erin, though, it was a feeble moan compared to how she wanted to scream, how she wanted to cry.

After a minute, the girl dropped to her knees on the dusty ground, head in her hands as the tears ran down her face, smearing the make-up. At least she had stopped screaming. "Why?" she called into the sky. "Why him? Why Kevin? Why me? And why did those bastards get to live? Why were they found innocent?"

Unbeknownst to her, Erin's voice had turned hard as rock, chill as ice, and her hands, the once beautiful, harp playing hands, reached to the sky, pleading. The rocks sunk into her knees, but she felt no pain and the wounds would heal themselves the moment she stood up.

It had been a year. A whole fucking year and the time had just flown. Erin couldn't remember a day of it. All that she in her mind was darkness and the caw of a crow. That was it. Bloody bastards had taken a year from her. A whole year.

"I came to say Happy Birthday, Kevin," she proclaimed as she took her hands from her face and looked out over the water. "I came to say I love you and I miss you. It's been a year, luv. A whole year since you died."

~Since you died as well, Erin Walkerson,~ the old voice whispered into her mind.

The girl was on her feet in seconds, helped by the strong legs that had once belonged to a dancer. "Shut up!" she screamed into the still night. "I never died. I'm not dead. I'm alive! I've been alive for a whole year! I was in a coma!"

~No. You died here one year ago with your boyfriend. I speak the truth, Erin. Look into your heart. You'll see.~

The thin hands ran quickly over the face, rubbing at the strange black and white face paint on it, as she shook her head, no, no, over and over again. "I'm not dead. I never died," she cried into her hands.

~Erin,~ the voice said slowly.

"No. No, please. I'm alive. I'm alive."

~No, Erin. Come to the graveyard.~

Through the tears that glazed over her eyes, Erin somehow managed to make her way into the old gothic graveyard. She walked among the tombstones, following the sound of beating wings. At one point she paused and laid her hand on Kevin's stone. "Kevin," she whispered. "Sleep well."

~He sleeps. You do not,~ the voice told her.

Erin shook her head. "I can't believe you. I have been alive. Comatose but alive."

There was a sigh in her mind and the beating wings speed up, driving her along. ~None of the others have been like this. They all knew. Why, Erin? Why don't you know?~

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I don't know," she reasoned with the voice, finding it easier to agree than argue. How long had the voice been with her now? About a year? Maybe. Closer to eight months, actually, if she thought about it. Yes, eight months. At first, she had thought she was crazy.

The beating of the wings stopped and Erin saw a large, black crow sitting on one of the tombstones. The tombstone was covered in climbing vines and fresh roses rested on the ground. ~Read it,~ the voice commanded.

Erin knelt down in front of the stone, brushing away the dirt that was caked there. Her fingers traced the words carved in the stone. "Here lies Erin Lousia Walkerson. May she rest in peace and fly with the angels of God. Such a precious lamb as this was not meant to live in this world. 1980-1998," the girl read aloud.

After reading she looked up at the crow. Its eyes focused on her, as though they were looking through her and then...Oh God, then she saw herself through the crow's eyes. Erin's hands started to shake as she watched the crow and the crow watched her and it sunk in. She was dead. She had died. She was...was...

"Oh God," Erin sobbed into her hands, turning her eyes from the sharp gaze of the crow. "Oh Lord, what am I? What have a become?"

~A creature of revenge, Erin Walkerson. An angel of death descended from above to right the wrong that was done to you and Kevin one year ago,~ the voice said, soothingly, comfortingly, but simply for it was the truth and the truth could not be hidden.

The girl was shaking, the sobs racking her small body, trembling through the dancers legs, the models body, the musicians fingers. And the screaming that came from her throat ruined the singers voice and the slat tears ruined the artists eyes. It was over. It was all over. Just like that. Erin had turned from the only survivor of a brutal prank to an angel of death.

~Don't cry.~

"What the fuck would you have me do?" she sobbed.

~Be angry. Be furious at those who have done you and Kevin wrong. Hunt them down, seek them out and make them pay,~ the voice commanded.

But Erin covered her ears with her hands and shook her head. "I can't. I won't. That's wrong. This is all wrong. It's a dream. A cruel dream." With that she stood up and ran from the gothic graveyard, bumping into tombstones and tripping over tree roots and screaming all the way.