❝I'm overwhelmingly human. Sorry to disappoint.❞
Luna Flores hasn't had an easy life. And after moving to Beacon Hills, it isn't about to get any easier.
Forced to uproot her family's life in Arizona, Luna hopes to find respite in the unknown, quie...
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LUNA REMEMBERED THE first time she ever felt like she wanted to disappear.
She was back home in Arizona, though home doesn't feel like the right word. Last place of residence sounded unnecessarily long and suspicious, like she were a serial killer on the run, and that didn't exactly help her already downfallen image. Arizona. She was in Arizona. She'll leave it at that.
They had shoved her into the back of a police car as the bile rose up in her throat, muttering over and over that she hadn't done anything wrong, she hadn't done anything wrong. In fact the only thing she knows she did was scream over and over and over, and the feeling of surprise that they hadn't tried to sedate her. She remembered the sirens, the yellow tape, the forensics team trying to piece together what was left as she was driven away, her reflection in the rearview mirror of the police car as she stared at herself covered in blood. And she remembered that none of it was hers.
That was also the first time she had ever been in an interrogation room.
Tonight was the second.
Beacon Hills Police Department was small. Small department for a small town, with neat desks and a coffee machine, air conditioner on full blast despite the fact that it was winter. Goosebumps prickled up and down her legs, and her ankles were cold from the mud that coated just outside of her sweatpants.
Her parents were going to kill her, she knew that much. She wasn't even supposed to be out of her room, let alone in the middle of Beacon Hills Preserve in the middle of the night. She glanced at the clock; it was almost one in the morning now, and when some random deputy handed her the phone to call her Mom, she wanted to take the cord and wrap it tightly around her neck. Unfortunately, the deputy stared her down the entire time she dialed the number, so she didn't have the opportunity to.
She stared forward at the mirror a few yards ahead of her, her reflection. Her hair was the slightest bit frizzy after it dried from the drizzle, and there was a small scratch above her eyebrow she didn't remember getting. Probably from running away from whoever that weird kid was, the one who was chasing her. She must've gotten thwacked by a branch. She narrowed her eyes and noticed a couple more red lines on her faces.
Okay, maybe a couple branches.
She wondered if anyone was behind it, the mirror, observing her for whatever reason they thought she should be in custody. She had always seen that on TV shows: suspect in custody, sitting the interrogation room being silently filmed, a two-way mirror hiding the detectives who wanted to get a gauge on the suspect's behavior. When she was taken in Sedona, she was sure that that was the case. It felt like it. Like some unseen force was sitting and judging and taunting and mocking. Like her tears and the blood were for some unknown voyeur who enjoyed her blubbering and stutters.
Tonight, she couldn't tell. She didn't even know why she was here, or why they brought her in in the first place. Last time she checked, taking a walk in the woods and running away from some lunatic chasing you wasn't a crime. If anything, they should've taken in the guy who was chasing her — but they wouldn't do that. She remembered fighting the urge to roll her eyes when he called the Sheriff the word that told her everything she needed to know. Dad. Kid could probably get away with anything.
