[✔️] 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑁𝐾 𝑂𝐹 𝑀𝐸 | 𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐆𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

𝐃𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐒, 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟑
"𝐴𝑑𝑜𝑝𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒: 𝐻𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒."
—𝑅𝑎𝑙𝑝ℎ 𝑊𝑎𝑙𝑑𝑜 𝐸𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛

𝐈
— 𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑎 —

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐎 the ground, letting out a small groan of pain as her palms and knees scraped against the pavement.

She quickly got to her feet, turning her head up towards the sky to see the blue vortex crackle once more before completely disappearing, permitting her to then see the clouds that drifted.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked around at the alleyway she had landed in, feeling panic instantly shoot through her body as her eyes caught sight of no familiar face. No one had fallen out with her, it seemed.

"What the hell?" she muttered, her gaze only coming across the brick building next to her, and the windows that were lined up behind her.

"Diego?" she tentatively called out, spinning around on her heel as she peered around the alley. "Five?"

No response.

Now overcome with worry, Mara rushed forward to be met by a busied street, with people bustling about, in and out of shops as they chatted with their friends and loved ones.

Upon seeing the bright clothing and curled updos, it was clear that she was no longer in 2019, nor was she anywhere near that time.

Her heart sank to the bottom of her stomach and she felt her throat close up. Evidently, she was in the past. Alone too, apparently.

But the others weren't dead, she nervously reassured herself. Right?

Right. 

. . . Right . . .

She brushed the thought aside as she shook her head and ran a hand through her tangled hair. There was no use in contemplating on her loved ones' status in life, she needed to figure out the date—and not to mention, what the hell she was supposed to do now.

Mara folded her arms over her chest as she began to walk down the street, hoping that no one would notice her top and jeans which greatly differed from the colourful skirts and dresses the other women wore. It didn't work; she still elicited stares from passing people, though she ignored them as she promptly walked past.

She entered the nearest clothing store, which, luckily for her, was empty, save for the one employee who was standing at the cashier counter.

The worker was a woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties, with glowing cheeks that graced her fair skin and accentuated her soft, green eyes. Curled strands of blonde cascaded around her shoulders, which she brushed back before giving Mara a wave of greeting.

"Hi!" the woman—Carol, according to her nametag—smiled. She had a southern accent that emphasized her words, and her voice was rather breathy. "Do you need help with finding anything?"

"Actually, um . . ." Mara pressed her lips together for a couple of moments, trying to figure out the proper way to form her sentence. No easy way to say it, she decided. "I just need to know the date."

Carol smiled and nodded. "Tuesday!"

"No, uh . . ." Mara sighed, rubbing her eyes as she shook her head. "Like, month, day, year."

"Oh, uh, sure . . ." Carol gave a nervous chuckle before shrugging and telling her, "April 16th, 1963."

"Sorry, did you say 1963?" Mara questioned, her mouth suddenly feeling a little dry as she clasped her hands together.

"Yep." Carol nodded in confirmation, her eyebrows furrowing as she concernedly peered at her. "Are you all right, hon? Did you hit your head?"

"Oh, uh, yeah . . ." Mara lifted a hand to the side of her head and feigned pain as she sighed. "I'll be okay though. Thanks for the help."

"You're . . . welcome," she replied uncertainly, though she made no further remark as Mara pushed the doors open and left the store.

Mara sighed, leaning against the outside of the building as she put a hand on her forehead and groaned.

She was in 1963. Sixty years in the past. Without anyone.

How the fuck had Five messed up this badly?