Once Upon A High School |A Short Story Collection|

little red (intro)

I didn't cry when my parents died.

I don't know why, so don't ask me.

All of the counselors that I have been to think I am in denial, or that the grief hasn't really hit me yet. Maybe they are right. Maybe Gran is right. She says we all mourn in our own ways, and mine is more internal compared to others.

I bottle it up inside me, never letting it overflow. One day, the bottle might shatter and I will have no choice but to drown in my emotions. But until then, I keep the cork sealed tight.

When I arrived home that night, six months ago, I was cold. Not because of the snow flurries lingering in February, or because of the frigid wind that bit my cheeks as I exited my car. But because the night was lit with red and blue lights.

As I neared the yellow police tape that blocked off my house from the rest of the street, the blood in my veins chilled, and I froze. The wind blew through my hair, but I didn't sweep the black strands out of my face. I couldn't move. I couldn't think. I could barely even breathe.

"Ma'am?" an officer asked, stepping in front of me and blocking my view of the open front door. "Can I help you?"

"This—" I started. My voice was nothing more than a whisper. "My..."

"You're going to have to speak up ma'am," the officer said, leaning forward to hear me better.

"My house," I managed to get out. "This is my house."

The officer's eyes widened as his back straightened to attention. His face fell as he watched me, unmoving on the sidewalk. He moved to the side, turning around as voices rose from the house.

It was like I was in a dream. It still feels surreal to me.

Two men exited the house, carrying a stretcher between them. I saw the unmoving body that lay on top of it. I saw the white sheet that covered their entire body. But I didn't connect the dots until I saw the hand that had slipped out from under the sheet when the paramedics walked down the stairs. Mom's wedding ring glistened against the bright spotlights cast from the police cars. Her hand was pale and speckled with blood.

I didn't feel like I was in my body at that point. I could see everything that was happening. I could hear the the officer in front of me asking me if I needed to sit down, asking if I had any ID on me. I was underwater—everything blurred and garbled.

"Scarlet!" A strangled cry rang through the night air.

But I couldn't look away from two new men carrying out another stretcher through the front door. I didn't need to see a hand to know it was Dad.

"Scarlet," the same voice said, her voice cracking. Hands were at my shoulders, turning me around, then on my face, forcing me to look at them.

Gran stared back at me with swollen eyes. Her short white hair was a mess on her head, her cheeks red and raw from tears I knew she had shed. She swept her thumbs under my eyes, but there were no tears to wipe away.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to curl up into a ball on the sidewalk and close my eyes until I could see Mom and Dad again.

But I couldn't.

I didn't speak for a month after the murder of my parents. I wear Dad's old, red, zip-up hoodie almost everyday. I dial Mom's cell phone number and listen to it ring, just so that I can hear her voice say that she was sorry she missed the call. I still wake up sweating in the middle of the night, startling from dreams of blood staining my childhood home.

Gran tells me to live my life like Mom and Dad would have wanted me to. She tells me to wipe the look of death off of my face and face the world with a smile. But smiling is so hard. Living is so hard—knowing that someone you love can be taken away from you an in instant.

The detectives still haven't figured out who killed Mom and Dad and why. A few of them believe that it was a robbery gone wrong, but I know that is not the case. Dad was too strong to allow some random intruder to murder him and his wife.

There is something more to this—something they cannot see, something I should know.

I will find out what happened to them and nothing will stand in my way.