The crow has been following me since the accident. In the morning it flies right above me as I go to work. In the afternoon it follows me to the park only to survey me from the nearest tree and croak its ugly laugh. In the evening it returns to my home and spends the whole night observing me. I have not been sleeping since the accident. I cannot close my eyes without seeing the poor girl’s face contorted in terror. I stir my coffee and look out the window of my living room. Even though the sky is already black outside, I can see the crow’s eyes and feathers reflecting in the moonlight.
It opens its beak and lets out a mocking croak. I try to wave the bird away tiredly, but it stays and turns its head. “Stop looking at me like that,” I hiss and take a sip of my coffee. “I know that I cannot get rid of you that easily. No need to get smug. You are not better than me.” The crow croaks as if it were disagreeing and comes closer to sit on the windowsill. It gently taps against the window with its beak. I listen to the little sounds and laugh quietly. “The rhythm you are using. It almost seems like you are using morse code.” I laugh again and listen as the taps grow more impatient but remain persistent in their rhythm. You will pay. You will pay. My smile slowly fades as I keep listening to the bird’s steady taps. You will pay. You will pay. No way the bird saw the accident. There are no witnesses. No one knows. You will pay. You will pay. The bird can’t be trying to talk to me. It is just a stupid bird. It can’t be trying to talk to me. My mind has to be messing with me. You will pay. You will pay. “Shut up!” I scream and abruptly get up from my couch, accidentally spilling my coffee all over myself.
The burning hot liquid stings my skin and pain flares behind my eyelids. My cup slips from my grasp. It shatters into thousands of pieces, but the sound is drowned out by the blood rushing to my ears. I walk over to the window, staring at the ugly bird. It starts tapping again. No denial. You will pay. “Shoo, go away you stupid bird.” I knock frantically on the window. The bird only looks at me unimpressed. “Go away. Leave me in peace.” Your fault. Your fault. “Nothing is my fault. She ran onto the road. I didn’t see her,” I scream but the bird will not listen. Your fault. Killer. Killer. Killer. It repeats the last beats over and over again. No matter how hard I pound against the window, no matter how loud I scream, the crow stays put and repeats the same word. Killer, killer, killer. Despite my heart hammering against my ribcage, I hear the bird’s knocking clearly and insistently. I open my window in mad rage and shudder slightly when the icy wind hits my heated face. “Wait till I get you, you stupid bird. Just wait. I’ll eat you for dinner. You’ll see.” The bird does not move, just stares at me as I reach out my arms. I clamp down my bruised hands around its neck and it breaks with a snap. Still, I hear the taps in the back of my head. Killer, killer.
I hear the fluttering of wings, and another crow sits down on the branch of the tree in front of my window. I let the lifeless bird in my hands fall and move forward, out onto the windowsill. The crow croaks as I reach out for it with a snarling grin on my face. This crow backs off instead of waiting for death like its predecessor. It observes me from its new place on the branch and croaks again. In the back of my mind the taps continue to spell the same word. Killer. Killer. I lean forward on the windowsill, almost grasping the bird. Just a few more centimeters and I will win.
My feet slip. My hand grasps the crow’s neck, and I laugh. I pull it down together with me. I fall and fall, but I don’t care. I got the bird. I am better. I drove over the little girl, but I am better. I got the stupid bird. I am better.
The crow has been following me since the accident. Now I will follow it into death.