All There is is red

"Lucy, wake up!" my mom frantically shakes me from my heavy, dreamless sleep.

"What time is it?" The sun isn't even out; I glance at my phone at 3 a.m. What could this unbearable woman want at this ungodly hour? She's always been one to bother me when it's convenient for her, but this is too obnoxious even for her.

"It's 3 a.m.! I have to be up in four hours for class. What could you possibly need?" I roll my eyes, sneak under my cozy blanket, and sink into my pillow, ready to drift back asleep until I notice it. The red and blue lights shone through my bedroom window. I scurried across my room, investigating the mess before us. My eyes automatically dart to the window across the street. The same window where we would wave good morning every day in high school before meeting at the bus stop. I dash back towards my bed and grab my phone, where it's charging on my nightstand. I dial his number, saying a prayer with each ring.

"Come on, Hayden. Answer me, please," I murmur under my breath. I paced back and forth across my room as my mom still memorized what was transpiring outside. Hayden and I have been annoyingly fighting this last week, but he's my best friend; he must answer.

"Fuck!" Straight. To. Voicemail. I throw on my jacket and bunny slippers as I sprint out of my room and down the hallway. I almost hit my shoulder as I turn the corner to the stairs, but I clear it and rush downstairs to the living room. This is the fastest I've run since last season. I'd break records right now if I were on the track. I finally reach the front door as I go for the knob, but my mom grabs me by the wrist and drags me away from the door.

"Don't go out there; you'll only be in the way and a nuisance." Her tone is colder than the ice that covers the road. I can't help but stare blankly at her. How could I stay inside when there was a mess outside, where my best friend and his family could be hurt? My second home could be destroyed.

Ignoring her, I yank my wrist out of her grasp and scramble out the front door and down the porch steps before she can stop me again. I head straight over to the overwhelming presence of police cars and two ambulances; I glaze over the crowd of people, trying to find at least one soul that looks familiar. My heartbeats quicken each second, and I don't recognize a single person until I spot her.

"Rose!" Hayden's little sister is sitting on the curb, hiding behind a group of officers. The noise of everyone talking blocks out my voice, but I keep yelling her name, trying to find a way through.

"Lucy!" Finally, she sees me as the group of officers starts to walk inside the house. Rose runs towards me with her arms stretched wide. I give all four feet and five inches of her a hug. I'm unsure what's happening, but I know she needs it.

"Rose.." I put her at arm's reach in front of me and quickly inspect her, ensuring she's not hurt. She is the closest thing I have to a little sister. Seeing as my mom didn't even want me. She's okay, physically, at least. There isn't a scratch on her, but I can see the trauma in her eyes. It scares me.

"Are you okay? What's happening?" I don't want the answer. Her light blue eyes start to water. Her mouth opens, but no words come out. I pull her into another embrace, trying to comfort her and mask my worry the best I can.

"Rose! There you are." My heart sinks into relief as I hear his deep, raspy voice. Hayden is okay. My best friend is okay.

"You need to stay by my si-" I fly forward and tug him into my arms, wrapping around him like the blanket he needs in this cold weather before he can process that I'm here. I don't care if we are fighting. I cannot hide the relief that he's okay. He wraps his arms around my waist and buries his head into my neck. I can hear a muffled cry for a second, so I know he couldn't care less about our fight. I leave him there a minute until he pulls away, but I keep my hand on his shoulder, examining him like I did to Rose.

"Are you okay?" I'm sure that question is more complicated than it sounds.

"Yes…no…." He looks down at Rose and around us.

"Stay here." He crouches down and gives Rose a reassuring hug that he'll be back and grabs my hand, leading me about 50 feet to the right of her.

"My mom…he…" he takes a deep breath, trying to speak without crying.

"Rose isn't listening… it's just me. You can cry." I try to comfort him while bracing myself for what could have possibly happened. His parents have been there for me since we met in second grade. His mom is more of a mom to me than my own. His dad was present when mine was nowhere to be found. They are the two best people I know.

"There was blood everywhere; it's like he painted the room red," Hayden blurts out, tears racing out of his hazel eyes and down his bronze cheeks. He falls to the ground, and I follow, matching his speed, ensuring he doesn't hurt himself on the way down.

She can't be. he loved her, he couldn't do that. I fight every instinct I have to break down; instead, I hold Hayden. Right now, they need me.

"He… are you sure?" I asked but instantly regretted it. Hayden's eyes dart at me, and he centers his gaze on mine. At first, he seemed irritated, but his face softened as if he remembered who I was, not only to him but to his family, too. An extension, not blood-related, but a family nonetheless.

"Yes. I walked in as he…" He swings his head to the right for a second, making sure Rose is still where he left her, and then turns back to me.

"He killed himself when he noticed me on the staircase… he didn't even say anything, just looked at me… grabbed the knife… an-"

"It's okay, you don't have to re-live it." I cut him off before he could say anything else. I partly stop him from talking for him, but also for myself. He already has to re-live this moment when talking to the police and in his dreams. I'm not going to make him do that with me. To hear that I considered a father killed the woman who I considered my mom even when mine slept across the hall from me. I can't process it.

"Let's get back to Rose. I'm sure she needs us, too." I look over at her, sitting in the same spot we left her. She looks lost.

Confused.

Disturbed.

It's been a week since they've passed; the funeral for Hayden's mom was yesterday. It was beautiful; a sea of black covered the cemetery as townsfolk arrived, showing love and support to Hayden and Rose and telling stories about what a lovely person Mrs. Rodriguez was.

'was' I'll never get used to that.

Tomorrow is Hayden's dad's funeral. Everyone tried to talk him into cremating his father instead of a funeral, declaring he didn't deserve one. But Hayden, as stubborn as he has always been, refused. Even though Mr. Rodriguez killed his wife, it was still hard to imagine him as a monster. I thought maybe that made me a beast, too, but Hayden agreed. He still loved his dad. Hayden couldn't understand why Mr. Rodriguez did what he did but knew there wasn't any chance of letting go and finding forgiveness without a proper goodbye. Many people aren't as kind as Hayden, but they knew not to push their luck debating the matter and instead understood (or pretended to) and respected his decision.

I walk out of my front door, wrapped head to toe, trying to fight the cold breeze. I scurry across the street and reach the base of his steps, looking up at the home. The red brick two-story home towers over me, giving off an eerie feeling. It's weird. This is the same home where I spent most of my childhood wondering every corner, taking notes for my future dream house, but it felt different.

Death will do that.

I walk up the steps as Hayden walks out of the front door. His parents owned the home, so he could stay there after they passed. I do not understand why he wanted to. I've offered him and Rose to stay at my house numerous times, especially since my mom is never home anyway, but my offer is consistently denied. A part of him feels the home is all he has left of his parents; Hayden has always accepted the good with the bad. Knowing him, he decided to stay accepting the gut-retching memory of the death of his happiness as long as he could remember all the special moments, too.

"Hey, where are you off to? I thought we could get lunch." He seems to be in a rush, barely looking at me as he walks towards his car.

"Store. Hop in." He unlocks the car and jumps into the driver's seat without a response. I'm not sure he was exactly looking for one, seeing as it was more of a demand, so I open the passenger side door and crawl in, fastening my seat belt before he races out of the driveway.

We make it 10 minutes down the road to Alberta's, the town's grocery store. The car felt lonely. No one said a word; we just sat in silence. It wasn't awkward but tense. We stroll into the store as he pushes the cart and grabs a list out of his sweatpants, starting down the first aisle.

"What are we shopping for?" I glance at him for a minute, trying to study his expression. It's been hard to understand him lately. At times he seems depressed, looking as if he's cried for hours, but has also seemed angry, like life just beat the shit out of him, and he wants revenge. That's grief, though. His world had just turned upside down, and now he had to fight on a path of survival for himself and his sister. Before he was even ready.

"Food for tomorrow. No one will cater his fucking funeral." He looks at me for a split second, and his face softens. Unfortunately, I'm not surprised. We don't live in a big city. Gossip spreads faster than the flu, and everyone fears how catering Mr. Rodriguez's funeral will make their business look. He looks forward again, slowly searching each isle for the ingredients he needs

"Okay, well, what are we making, Sous chef?" I take off my imaginary toque and bow, trying to bring humor to his day, hoping he takes it well.

"You are most definitely the sous chef. You are not responsible for any cooking after the brownie incident in 2012," he chuckles, and I see the flash of a smile flicker briefly.

After wandering aimlessly for an hour, we finally have all the ingredients for tomorrow. As we are checking out, I can't help but feel as if everyone's eyes are on us. His parents' death made the news, seeing as not much happens in the town of Desher, hidden within the West Mountain region of North Carolina.

"You're the Rodriguez boy, right?" The scruffy older cashier, who reeks of cigarettes and cannot be under 40, examines Hayden's face as if he's seen a ghost. Hayden doesn't even look up and nods while grabbing a few bills from his wallet.

"I'm sorry for your lost kid; your mom was a good person." The cashier seems sincere in his remark, but Hayden seems anything but pleased by it.

"Yeah. So was my dad." Hayden snatches the receipt from the cashier as I grab the bags, place them in the cart, and walk off. The man looks confused and angry.

"Hey, watch out, sweetheart. You never know like father like son," the man smirks as he shouts, grabbing everyone's attention around us, thinking he won a battle we weren't even in. Hayden doesn't even flinch as he continues walking out the exit, not breaking his stride. He just keeps his head down as he heads towards the car. It makes me wonder how often he has dealt with situations like this.

But me. I try. I really try to ignore that ignorant, lowlife man's comment. I try to be as mature as Hayden. But I can't; my mind blurs, my skin heats, and my vision leaves me. All there is is red.

I head towards the cashier, throwing my hair into a bun and removing any unnecessary jewelry. At this point, I hear nothing but rage shouting at me; all reasoning has left me. I don't remember much of what happens next. It's as if I was transported to the car—the silent car. I feel many of our days will start to sound like this.

"What happened" I dart my eyes at him. He's focused on the road, gripping the steering wheel as if to stop his hands from moving from the spot. I fucked up.

He doesn't speak at first. It's not right for me to say anything right now, so for the moment, I enjoy the silence.

"There is no reason for you to act like that!" Hayden tenses, trying to keep himself calm and in control of his emotions, but I can tell it's hard for him.

"You need to learn how to get a hold of your emotions and grow the fuck up. We aren't in high school anymore, where you can blow up anytime you deem appropriate. AND I don't need you to fight my battles. If I decide to stay quiet and leave, you must respect that". He glances over at me, making sure I'm listening. I feel guilty for embarrassing him, but I wasn't just defending him.

"I was defending your dad too." I look over at him, lowering my eyelids and slightly furrowing my eyebrows; disbelief glosses my eyes, impossible to cover. He wasn't my real dad, but Mr. Rodriguez was a good man to me growing up; he taught me how to swim and fight, attended dance recitals, and always made me feel like I was one of his own. While I don't understand what happened that night. It is hard for me to erase all the good things he did and the good man he was like the rest of the town.

We drive the rest of the way in silence. I don't even bother to try to break the tension. As we turn on our street, there are two police cars in front of my home. My heart starts to race, wondering if my mom is okay, but I take a breath of relief as I notice there is no ambulance.

"I'll walk you inside." Hayden examines the front and inside of my house for any movement, trying to count the number of officers present.

"I'll be okay. I'll meet you after they leave. Just worry about your groceries." I wrap my arms around his neck, taking a deep breath and holding on a second too long before releasing him from my grasp, stepping out of the car, and approaching my front door. What could the police possibly want? I grab my keys from my mini black shoulder bag, fumbling with them as I nervously unlock my front door. I finally turn the key to unlock the door and enter my living room. I freeze, taking in the sight of two officers leaning against the wall next to the couch chatting and two other officers sitting on either side of my mom, where she sits in the center of the sofa with her hands behind her back.

"What's happening here?" I interrupt the officers, who are deep in conversation, and everyone turns their heads towards me.

"Lucy Sterling?" The bald officer who looks like a cliché donut-loving policeman sitting to my mom's right rises to his feet and walks towards me.

"Yes. Is everything okay?" I look frantically between my mom and the officer, trying to understand what's happening.

"You are under arrest for accessory to the murder of Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez on January 13th, 2018."

Arrested.

Murder.

Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez

What. The. Fuck.

"I'm sorry, you must be mistaken. You must have the wrong people!" I protest as the officer places the cuffs around my wrist and recites my Miranda rights. I stare at my mom, waiting for her to chime in. but she doesn't. She doesn't even look at me.

The officers escort us out to the police cars. At this point, the whole neighborhood is outside. Every neighbor we have is either sitting on their porch or standing on their lawn whispering around us. Hayden is standing on his front porch, eyebrows narrowed in confusion. I keep my eyes on him as the officers shove me into the back of the police car and drive off.