Word count: 721
I heard a really loud scream and I was debating whether or not to run when I saw Katrina and Louis. Together. Ugh.
For the past hour, I was trying to refigure out the device. It looked so...foreign and yet here I was, the creator. Eventually, I found something familiar. It was a gray screen with different numbers and labels. To: Place; Date; Time. From: Place; Date; Time. Already on the screen was my home. Santa Monica; September 18, 2115; 12:32pm. All I needed was Katrina before she would be lost in 1955 forever. And she was only twenty feet away. Good. But she was with Louis. Problem.
The scream. I winced as it shattered the calmness of the campus (you know, other than the dull rumbling of the party right behind me). Katrina dropped the loudspeaker. What could possibly be wrong?
All at once a thunderstorm of yelling erupted from the crowd. Katrina hopped off of Louis and picked up the loudspeaker. She pushed her way to the front. Dammit. Now I don't have eyes on her.
"Why do you have to make this ten times harder?" I groaned and I got up from my comfortable seat. The device in hand I went over to Louis on the outskirts of the chaos.
"Where's Katrina?"
He jumped. Confusion, worry, and then anger flickered through his dark features. "She's fine."
"That wasn't my question."
"What do you need her for?"
"We need to go home, man. I know you'll under--"
"What I don't understand is why you keep hanging around us when she's clearly told you that she doesn't want you around our family."
I snorted. "Family? You've known her for like, what? A month at the most?"
"That's all she needed to know she made a mistake with you." He hissed.
"She isn't safe here."
"Yes, she is. She's with me."
"She's a black woman in 1955 Mississippi."
"I'm not stupid. Or blind."
"She won't survive here."
"You're right, she won't."
"And furthermore...Wait for what?" That was unexpected.
"She won't just survive here." He looked over the heads of the people. "She'll do more. She'll make a difference. For all of us." He smiled a little before he pushed his way towards the center.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHH!" Another scream, this time recognizable.
"Katrina, I'm coming!" I pushed, too. "Move! She needs my help! Katrina needs... Oh. My. God."
I saw a mob of black people in agony. An officer had a hose and was pressing this Beverly against the floor. He writhed in agony as the sharp, dense water stabbed him over and over. But where was Katrina?
"Stop it! You're hurting him! Please!" There she was. She was piggy back riding the officer with the hose. Her face was running with mascara and her curls were soaked with the water. I guess she got hosed, too. Katrina slapped at the officer but wasn't doing any damage at all. Louis was trying his best to get her off.
WHACK!
More officers. They all took their turn beating Louis to the ground with no mercy. Batons as black as death the swung like they were in the major leagues.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
Don't look, don't look, don't look, I pleaded to Katrina.
The officer turned them around and pulled his gun.
"LOUIS!" She hopped off and covered him.
WHACK! Her first blow.
Her howl was bloodcurdling, ears piercing, heartbreaking. I didn't even notice the music from the party wasn't playing anymore.
This was my time. I took out my device, my eyes still pinned on Katrina for the right moment. I scrolled randomly on the device, just trying to get away and I didn't care where.
WHACK! To her face. Her cheek and nose were stained with deep red.
The baby! I realized. I moved faster.
The officer took out his gun.
NOW JORDAN! I pressed go and whirlpool of dusty grays and bright oranges, maroons, lemon yellows, and brilliant blues opened out of thin air.
"Kat, take my hand!" I held it out to her. She reached, but she wasn't strong enough to follow through. It was too much for her. Her weak arm started to pull away.
No, no, no. I ran in front of Katrina and the officer snatched her from the ground and dove into the cool mist.
YOU ARE READING
Broken
General Fiction"What year is it?" "1955." "Thank you." I turned around, my fears confirmed. I understood why the world seemed so different now. So hostile towards me for no reason. I was black. I was a girl. I was in rags. And it was 1955. ...
