Blood On Her Hands

Chapter 2

I found out whose blood I had fallen into at the wedding.

The precinct was like a beehive. Heels clattered across the floor and dress shoes squeaked against the tiles. Officers were running in and out while guests from the party washed inside in different waves and groups. Their cream colored gowns, sparkling jewelry, and crimson ties added to the sensory overload.  I was part of the first group of people to escape the scene, leaving me to sit on one of the plastic benches in the back with guests I hardly knew the names of.

Their makeup was in disarray, their spray tans doing little to mask the color draining from their faces. The flashing lights of the police cars pulling in and out of the parking lot lit us up in hues of blue and red. No one had spoken a word, everyone seemed transfixed on the glass doors at the front of the station. We watched as people came through.  Perhaps all of us waiting for a loved one to make it in okay.

I wondered when the gun men would walk through those doors, cuffed and masks off.

"Has your sister arrived?"

It took a second for me to tear my eyes from the entrance. I blinked away my thoughts and tried to focus on the face in front of me. A woman in long black pants that fanned out to the sides and a purple satin top was peering at me. She had cropped hair the same shade as my mothers. She had been at the wedding. I scrambled through the brain fog to try and place her - to figure out who she was to me. My mother's cousin, maybe.

"No," I answered. I kept the answer quick and simple, in fear that if I lingered on the fact for too long, I'd start crying again.

"She was in the car right behind mine," the woman said, with a heavy Jersey accent. "She's not hurt. She should be here any second."

I stood up, the fruity perfume she wore drowning me. It was strong but better than the smell of blood. Better than the scent of the ominous red stain at the tips of my skirt. My legs took me to the waiting area at the entrance of the police station where many of the other guests were. I knew the police had kept me in the back for a reason. As soon as the driver of the car indicated that I was the sister of the bride - the detectives said they might want to talk with me. I was kept at the back so I wouldn't disappear on them, so that when the chaos died down a little, they could pull me into one of the rooms that lined the outermost hallway and interview me.

That didn't matter to me then. All I wanted was to be the first one to greet my sister when she came in. Adonis would most likely be with her. Maybe Darren too.

"There you are!" A hand clamped around my elbow and I nearly screamed. Behind me stood my aunt and uncle with Julio in tow. They were unmarked by bloodstains or wounds, looking only slightly disheveled compared to how they had been before the incident.

"Where were you?" I asked, remembering how they had left to find Julio. I hoped that maybe they had escaped the shooting altogether because of their son's disappearance.

Before they answered, the couple pulled me into a suffocating hug that smelled of sweat and expiring deodorant. I noticed that Julio hadn't made a move from where he stood behind them, almost hiding. Forced to look over the two's shoulders as they embraced me, I stared hard at Julio. His tight brown curls were fallen over his face but it didn't mask how flushed his skin was. His eyes when they met mine, were glazed over and distant, unfocusing on any single person or object. He swayed as someone barely brushed past him.

"Is he drunk?" as the words left my mouth, heat poured into my chest. With the boy entering his teen years, I had known better than to expect he would never become curious about alcohol. But at a wedding? And we had to deal with it at a time like this? When people could be dead?