Red Scarf

Content WARNING: Physical Abuse, Toxic Relationships, and Teen Murder depicted.

"Have a good day at school," his mother yelled from the kitchen as Miller grabbed his car keys and headed out the front door. "G'morning baby" he said to his 1965 Shelby GT350. The car had been a birthday present from his parents for making honor roll two years in a row. It was also a twisted attempt to soften the blow that they were moving to a new town in a few weeks. Miller loved that car. She was beautiful, sleek black with white wall tires and he took immaculate care of her. Some people could call him obsessed, he described it as passionate about the blessings in his life.

Miller stuck the key in the ignition and turned hearing...nothing. “What the heck!” he shouted out loud to nobody, “why aren’t you working for me girl. You know I love you!” He tried once more. Still nothing. “Well, this sucks.” he said to himself. He grabbed his cell and googled info on the city bus. Grateful there was a stop just three blocks away, on Hope Avenue, he grabbed his bag and started the trek. The bus arrived just as he did. He paid no attention to the girl he accidentally bumped on the way inside, but glanced quickly as she sat down in front of him on the other side.

Paying no further attention to her, he answered his cell phone. “What up yo” he said, to his best friend Dylan. “Man, I just drove by your house. You better leave bro or you’ll be late for A period.” “Dude, Shelby is down for the count. I gotta check her out later. Had to take the bus in” he replied. Glancing around, he noticed the girl was wearing long sleeves and a red scarf around her neck. “Weird” he said, forgetting Dylan couldn’t see what he was looking at. “What's up, dude?” “Some chick’s on the bus with me in long sleeves with a red scarf around her neck. Did she not get the memo that it’s eighty-five degrees outside." Laughing, Dylan responded "girls do crazy crap all the time. It's better to ignore it." Arriving at their high school, Dylan finished, I'll see you in class dude, I just got here."

As he tapped the end call button on his smart phone, Miller decided Dylan had a valid point, so he did just that for the rest of the ride. The next day, Shelby was still not functioning, so Miller made his way to the bus stop once more. The weather was another scorcher, only, it was also raining. Sweaty, and wet, he arrived just as the bus did like the day before. Playing a game on his cell phone with his head down, he was distracted by no one else until she stepped onto the bus.

The girl with the red scarf walked towards him, and sat in the same seat as the day before. “Why is she still in long sleeves and that scarf” he thought to himself. “Yo, why are you wearing a scarf around your neck in eighty-degree weather?” he asked her. Caught off guard at someone speaking to her, her eyes darted back and forth, as if she was checking to see if someone was coming. “Huh..oh.. I..um...sorry” she stumbled across her words as she quickly scattered her way to another seat.

Later that day, at school, Miller and Dylan were sitting in C period waiting for their teacher, Mr. Graves, to arrive. Suddenly, a classmate said loudly, ”check outside, Marcus and his crew are beating the crap out of that new kid." Everyone rushed to the windows and watched the fight. “Maybe we should get a teacher or something” Miller said to Dylan.”Nah, bro, stay out of it. It’s not our business and you don’t wanna be next on Marcus’s radar.” Feeling slightly torn, Miller decided his best friend made a good point and followed his advice. The fight ended. The boy, injured and clearly hurt, painfully scrapped together his things and left school. Miller, Dylan, and the class returned to their previous activities like nothing had happened.

The next day, Wednesday, Shelby was still broken. The problem had been figured out, and the parts ordered, but still the city bus beckoned for a couple of days. It was a mess outside; complete thunderstorm. Miller’s dad offered to drive him to the bus stop on his own way to the airport. Arriving just as the bus did, Miller waved goodbye to his dad and hopped on. This time, he was strangely curious if the girl with the red scarf would show up in long sleeves again. Sure, enough, she did. She never said anything. She always just sat. Sleeves pulled down. Scarf around her neck. She didn’t look at anyone, either. Not wanting to scare her again, Miller watched her for a couple of moments, but, decided it was best to leave her be.

Wednesday continued uneventful. That night, Miller got an email from the school principal. “Dear students, it has been brought to our attention that there could be witnesses to a violent crime of assault that has been committed on our grounds, and during school hours, yesterday against a fellow student. If anyone has any information that could help lead to those responsible, please reply to this email so that you can remain confidential to the overall community within our walls.” They didn’t have proof Marcus was behind the attack, but someone told the administration there was witnesses. Miller didn’t know who let what slip, but he knew he was staying out of other people’s drama.

Thursday arrived full of sun and gratitude at a decent, seventy-three degrees. Shelby’s parts were set to arrive later that day. Miller made his way to the bus stop once more. However, when he arrived the bus wasn't there yet. “Strange” he thought, as he checked his cell, for the time. “I still have a good hour before the bell rings.” he said to himself, as he began to search his favorites list for Dylan’s number. Suddenly, Miller looked up towards the yelling he heard. The girl with the red scarf was walking towards the stop with tears in her eyes. A guy with brown hair, who looked the same age, or slightly older, than Miller, walked with her. He had his arm around her, but she didn’t look comfortable. They stopped at a parked motorcycle, the guy shoved a second helmet at her, which she declined. She tried to take a step towards the bus, but he shoved it again. She shook her head and tried to walk once more. This time the guy smacked her across the face.

Miller was raised to respect women. Plus, he was an older brother to two sisters, and there was no way in hell he would let that fly, with them. He shouted at the guy “Dude, don’t hit a woman” as he jogged over to her. “Are you okay?” he tried to ask. “Mind your business dude. She’s my girlfriend." Changing his vocal tone from angry and brusque, to sweet as apple pie, he continued, "she knows I didn’t mean to hurt her. I just lost my temper.” He turned to the girl in the red scarf. “I’m so sorry baby. That will never happen again. You’re right, the bus is a better idea. Go ahead and take your ride. I’ll see you later.” Then, he hopped on his bike, turned it on, and sped away without another word or glance back. The girl with the red scarf stayed silent. The fear she felt, was clearly visible, all over her face. She looked at Miller. She looked at the motorcycle still speeding away. She burst into tears and fell into Miller’s arms.

Confused, shocked, and unsure of what to do next he hugged her for a moment that was over before it really started. Quickly, she pulled herself back, started frantically wiping at her tears, and apologized profusely, as she ran to the bus that had just pulled up. She climbed on and sat down in the usual seat. Miller followed and sat behind her. Not wanting to put her business on blast, he whispered in her ear, “It’s okay. Can I help you in some way?" Rapidly shaking her head, she changed seats. Miller thought it was best to let her be. After all, that had been an intense situation. Thursday continued like any other day, despite the dramatic moment at the bus stop, that morning. That evening, the parts for Shelby arrived, and Miller was happy to know he could do the repairs that weekend.

Friday came. All morning, Miller couldn’t stop thinking about Red Scarf. He hoped she was safe, and making better choices, than the decision to date the douche on the motorcycle. He headed to the bus stop and arrived just as it was pulling up. He climbed on board. Others loaded in, but not the girl in the red scarf. He wondered where she was as the bus pulled away. Arriving at school, he saw Marcus and his friends out on the sidewalk. Marcus was in handcuffs, spitting profanities, like they were going out of style faster than he could think of them. A guy with dark hair and holding a bike helmet was with him. "Chill out Marcus. I'll handle it."

Miller recognized him bike helmet. “Douche,” he said out loud. “Geez, dude, I told you I’d help with the car afterwards,” said Dylan. “No, not you dude. That motorcycle. He’s a douche. He was smacking his girl around at the bus stop. I intervened, but chick was a mess, and she wasn’t there today. I don’t trust him.”

“Oh. Oh, I think that’s Marcus’s brother. You know their pop’s locked up, right?” “That douche is his brother?! Well, that makes more sense now. Why is Marcus in cuffs anyway?” A group of girls were walking by them as one shouted, “he got caught for murdering the new kid.” Shock and confusion hit both boys. The bell rang and snapped them back. They scrambled into A period when the principal came on the loudspeaker. “Students, I am saddened to inform you that a member of our student body, Christopher Lyons, passed away last night in the hospital due to the injuries he sustained here a couple of days ago. Marcus Blythe has been arrested after several eyewitnesses came forward. On behalf of the Lyons family, we are grateful to those who were brave enough to speak up"...Principal Masters continued, but Miller didn’t hear him. “Marcus killed the new kid. He beat him so bad that he died. And douche! Douche is his brother. He hit Red Scarf. What if she’s...oh, God,” he thought to himself frantically.

The next morning, Miller went to the bus and waited. No sign of Red Scarf. Sunday came, and he waited again. Still, nothing. Monday came, Shelby was fixed and roared like a lioness, but Red Scarf was still on his mind. So, Miller walked to the bus stop to look for her. Instead, he found a crime scene. Red Scarf laid on the ground. surrounded by number cards and police. Miller ran over, but was stopped by a cop. “What happened?” he asked.

“Did you know her?”

“No. Yes. Sort of. She’s been on the bus every day last week; except Friday. I stopped her boyfriend from hurting her more because I saw him smack her across the face. Oh, God! I should have called you guys that day. Damn it! What happened?”

The officer shouted for a detective. The stern-looking woman came over and got the Cliff’s Notes version of what Miller just said. “It sounds like you care about her. I’m Detective Lambert. Did you know her name, by any chance?” Miller hung his head, disappointed in himself, “No, I just referred to her as red scarf. She wore one around her neck every single day.” Detective Lambert sighed before speaking, “Yeah, we found that near the body. It was covering up bruises. She had some around her wrists and arms also.” “That explains the long sleeves” Miller said. Detective Lambert continued with the questions, asked Miller for a description of Marcus’s brother, and took his contact information. Miller went home, locked his bedroom door, and cried for the girl with red scarf where nobody could see him.

A few weeks passed when Miller’s dad was reading an article about Veronica Reed, who had been murdered by her boyfriend, Tyler Blythe, on the corner of Hope Avenue a few weeks prior. Miller choked on his cereal. “Let me see that dad” he said. There she was, staring back at him from the paper, Red Scarf. “I’m so sorry” he said to her picture. His dad, confused, asked his son why he was apologizing. After telling the whole story, he sat in silence at the table for a few minutes. He never knew her name, but he’d never forget her face. He hated that he didn’t do more; say something. He vowed he’d never stay silent again. Veronica deserved that much.

(Author's Note: Wrote story based on prompt, then read theme. Story felt like it needed to be published despite not being very on theme.)