Overdramatic, restless, and just seventeen... Maria is sent back to her hometown of Tulsa, Oklahoma, she's determined to revive the past but finds out that everything has changed. Maria faces off with old friends, and the added complication of local...
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October 14th, 1991. 2:33 A.M.
That night, I lay awake in bed for hours just pondering my thoughts. Aunt Sheridan slept on the top floor, and I had the bedroom on the bottom floor, right next to the front entrance. After a while I succumbed to sleep, but that was only momentarily.
The sound of thumps and the rustles of leaves outside my window woke me up. My eyelids were heavy as I came around, and heard the mysterious noises. The same creepy ones that had haunted me as a child, were now coming from right outside the bedroom window.
It was almost pitch black out, so I used the sleeve of my pajamas to wipe the window clear from condensation. My blood rate dropped when I witnessed three men, all dressed in black, right outside.
I held my breath, realising that they were masked and probably armed. The men moved up the side of the house, I prayed they would be taking a detour and leave, but hearing the backdoor window shatter, made me think otherwise.
I jumped up, snatching my robe from the end of the bedpost, and sprinting up the flight of stairs. I stopped at the landing, and saw the figures walk straight into the house. I noted the hushed whispers but couldn't make out a word of what they were saying and I wasn't about to stick around to find out either.
I raced to my aunt's bedside, violently shaking her from slumber as the floorboards creaked behind me.
"There are men in the house!" I whispered loudly, "Get up!"
She thought I was joking, and rolled over in bed, "Go back to sleep, Maria." she muttered sleepily.
I had to shake her awake again, "I'm serious... Wake up!" I begged, but with no response, I was the one who had to utter the stupid words, "I think they've got a gun."
Aunt Sheridan darted upright, she heard it for herself, and lunged for the door to lock it. I helped her move a piece of furniture in front to block them off, "If anyone is out there the police are on the way!" she called out, dialling the number.
Downstairs the men had heard her threat, and started to race around, taking as much as they could carry before fleeing out the front door. They're stopped in their places by two police cars, who were only around the corner at the time of the call.
The men are tackled to the lawn and unmasked as three local hoodlums. Two were brunette and one lighter in hair. They seemed to be well known by the authorities, or as I assumed, common criminals.
The flashes of red and blue covered the houses on the street and woke the neighbours up. Soon nosy people made their way over in groups to see what was happening at such an early hour.
Although these men had robbed us, I sort of felt sad for them. As Aunt Sheridan took the police on the tour around the crime scene and answered questions, I wandered over to one of the hoods. His wrists were handcuffed behind his back and he sat on the side of the street curb, all alone. I went over to his side.
"I'm sorry for getting you arrested, but you scared the hell out of me. What did you think you were doing?"
He scoffed instead of directly answering me back. I wanted to make good, so that they wouldn't target us again. I believed he might need a smoke, and if I gave him one then we might break that barrier of resentment.
I slipped a cigarette from a small silver case. It was much more elegant than having the words of Marlboro Reds printed on the side. It was Aunt Sheridan's. I needed to hide the fact that I occasionally participated in this ritual from my parents but they weren't around anymore, so I guessed I could do as I pleased.
"Would you like a smoke?" I asked him, with my hand shivering.
The guy nudged his head, he was a man of not many words, or so he seemed at the time. I hover the smoke to his lips and he takes it, "Need a light now, sweetheart." he said arrogantly.
I flicked the lighter, the words love those who are lost are engraved in the side. He leaned into the flame.
One of the officers came over, "Dallas Winston. Well, ain't it nice to see you here again?"
"Bite me, pig." he spat at the officer's shoes. I'm taken back and leave to go find my aunt. She is on the porch, and we huddle together for warmth as we watch the culprits be taken away.
"Good thing I own nothing valuable." she smiled, nudging me softly. I just sat quietly. That guy looked familiar. Yet I couldn't place him.
