Again, I lost track of time. I was digging and scraping for a long while. My vision blurred as I worked. Sweat ran down my forehead and into my eyes, stinging them.
At some point, I’m not sure how long, except that I had gouged out about three quarters of the scars I had intended to make, the crow came back. And not just one crow. It brought with it several of its own kind in a flock that was bent on doing me harm.
They swooped down at my head and face and attacked me with their beaks. I was so startled I put my hands up to my face. The key fell and clattered away. I didn’t know where it went. I didn’t much care, either, not at that moment. I covered my face with my hands. The crows pecked at my fingers and the back of my hand. I felt blood trickle down to my wrists.
I stood up and ran
