At the funeral, a crow landed on the girl’s coffin. A second later, everyone there was totally speechless…

He followed her everywhere, hopping along the ground when she went outside and perching on her shoulder as she sat in her room. Mona taught him simple tricks and he seemed to understand her in a way that no one else did. At school, however, things only got worse.

One afternoon, her classmates cornered her in the hallway, snatching her bag and scattering its contents across the floor. What’s it like being a freak? one of them sneered, kicking her notebook down the hall. Mona bit her lip, refusing to cry in front of them, but the humiliation was almost too much to bear.

When she got home that day, she went straight to her room, clutching Onyx tightly to her chest. He cawed softly, as if sensing her pain, and she whispered, at least I have you. Her parents noticed her growing withdrawal, but Mona brushed off their concerns.

I’m fine, she would say with a forced smile, though her hollow eyes told a different story. Her mother tried to comfort her, offering warm hugs and kind words, but Mona couldn’t bring herself to open up about the torment she faced at school. One night, as Mona lay in bed with Onyx perched on the headboard, she heard her parents talking in hushed voices in the next room.

She’s not the same, her mother said, her voice thick with worry. She barely eats, she doesn’t talk to us anymore. I don’t know what to do.

She just needs time, her father replied. She’s strong, she’ll get through this. But Mona didn’t feel strong.

She felt like she was drowning, and every day at school was another wave pulling her under. Onyx was her lifeline, the only thing keeping her afloat. She spent hours talking to him, pouring out her heart to the little bird who seemed to understand her in a way that no one else could.

As the chapter closes, Mona sits by her bedroom window, stroking Onyx’s feathers and watching the stars twinkle in the night sky. She whispers, maybe one day things will get better. But deep down, she isn’t sure if she believes it.

The days blended together for Mona, a blur of sleepless nights and torturous school mornings. Her classmates’ jeers rang in her ears long after she left the schoolyard, and their cruel laughter echoed in her thoughts like a haunting melody she couldn’t escape. The teachers’ indifference made it worse.

They turned a blind eye to her pain, excusing it as childish antics. The isolation she felt at school weighed heavily on her, leaving her emotionally drained by the time she reached home. At first, she tried to hide her despair from her parents, forcing a smile when they asked how her day went.

It was fine, she’d say, her voice barely audible, before retreating to her room. But as the days turned into weeks, the cracks in her facade began to show. Mona’s appetite waned, her laughter faded, and the sparkle in her eyes grew dimmer.

The only thing that seemed to bring her any joy was Onyx, the raven her father had entrusted to her care. Onyx quickly became more than just a pet. He became her sanctuary.

Every morning, she’d wake up to his soft caws, his beady eyes watching her intently, as if sensing her pain. She would feed him scraps of bread and bits of fruit, her hands trembling as she focused on the simple task of nurturing him. The act of caring for Onyx gave her a sense of purpose, a distraction from the turmoil swirling within her.

She spent hours teaching him tricks, marveling at how quickly he learned to fetch small objects or mimic sounds. Onyx was intelligent, far more than she had anticipated, and his loyalty to her was unwavering. Each afternoon, after enduring the relentless torment at school, Mona would rush home and head straight to her room where Onyx awaited her.

The moment she saw him, her shoulders would relax, and the tears she held back all day would finally fall. They’re so cruel, Onyx, she whispered one evening, her voice choked with emotion. I don’t understand why they hate me so much.

The raven tilted his head, as if listening intently, and let out a low caw. It was a small sound, but to Mona it felt like an acknowledgement, a reminder that she wasn’t entirely alone. Her mother noticed the change in her daughter’s routine…