I fly down the stairs, moving my legs as fast as my strappy black heels will allow. Anyone in their right mind would've taken them off immediately, but the pure adrenaline pumping through my veins right now is enough to keep the laziest person in the world on their feet and moving. I hear footsteps approaching the stairs followed by some slight heavy breathing.
"Scarlett?" My mom calls to me, her voice a tad airy. "Are you okay?"
"Fine!" I pant. "I heard it too!"
As I near the door, I catch glimpses of the scene unfolding outside, through the window. I notice people standing around something. Some hide their eyes, some turn away, some are screaming, some are on the phone, some are standing still and quiet as all hell. Numb. Whatever it is that's going on, I can feel in my bones, that it's not good. My mom reaches for me.
"Honey, wait-"
I reach for the door and turn the nob. I manage to catch a flash of blood--Oh god. Lots and lots of blood on the asphalt. Coating it, soaking it--before the door is slammed in my face by another hand. My eyes trace the fingers to the bony wrist, across the veins and freckles, leading all the way to my fathers' wrist.
I look up. Confusion written across my face, etched deep in my eyes.
"Scarlett, please," my dad says, releasing his hold on my arm.
I look at him, baffled, "Someone could be hurt, we have to help."
"There is someone running around hurting people right now, we need to be cautious." I am appalled by her lack of compassion for whoever that is out there. Sure there are neighbors helping, but I want to help. I don't want to just stand here idly.
"Your mother's right, Scar. Let's put a call in to the police, let them know what we are looking at." Moira walks up and grasps my hand. Unlike the others, she actually has a plan of action to help. I let her lead me away, but not before taking one last glance over my shoulder. My eyes find something unusual. I stop in my tracks and strain my eyes, fully turning my body towards the window to get a better look.
It's Jake.
He's coming around the side of the neighbor's house and he's wiping his hands on his shirt. He looks up and whatever he sees seems to drain every last ounce of life out of him. I take a step forward, towards the window, ignoring my parents' wishes for me to continue getting ready, to accept we've done all we can do to help, to just be a good girl and follow Moira upstairs. But. I. Just. Can't. I can't look away as Jake steps onto the road. I can't look away as he crumples and stumbles forward.
And then he runs.
Straight towards the group gathering around whatever happened. I see his arms flail and people split, moving immediately out of his way, as if he has a plague. The mob parts like the red sea and I finally catch a glimpse of what, rather who, is on the ground. Bright blonde curls mixed with waves of red, it's Jake's mom.
And from the looks of it, she's not okay.
This is enough to make me nearly throw up. I just see blood-so much blood.
FLASH.
Help us, someone whispers. I whip my head around in the direction of the voice.
"What?"
"Let's call the police?" My dad asks, confusion dripping from his words.
Help us! There are more whispers now. And they're getting louder. The amount of pain and agony in their voices sends a chill up my spine.
