The Guilty Type | COMING SOON

prologue

Maya was putting a tray of cookies in the oven when she heard the first gunshot echo through the hallway of her apartment building.

“Fireworks,” she'd whispered to herself. “They're just fireworks, Maya.”

The resonating sound of air shattering as a bullet tore through it was not foreign to her adolescent ears. Where she lived, Maya heard it often, and her parents always told her they were fireworks. But now, Maya was fourteen years old, and she knew better.

She squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as possible, counting her breaths as she inhaled and exhaled. Glancing at the clock, she eased down onto the torn leather couch, and turned the T.V.'s volume up as high as it could go, burying her face underneath a blanket.

It was an hour before midnight, and her brother Eligio should have been home from work two hours ago. She was baking him his favorite snickerdoodle cookies, because ever since their parents left to visit their grandparents in Mexico, Eligio had been complaining about missing their mama's baking.

The second crack of a bullet leaving a gun met Maya's ears only seconds before her brother barged through the front door. Beads of sweat turned into streams and blended with tears as they poured down his face, which was home to fresh scratches. His usually spiky hair was flat against his head, and his light brown eyes were wide and reddened.

"Maya," Eli sobbed and stumbled towards his sister, who'd thrown aside her blanket and stood frozen in front of him, her dark complexion paling by the second, "Go to your room, sis."

He stepped towards her, but screamed in agony when his legs buckled and he crumbled to the ground. Maya's eyes trailed down as body and to his lower leg, which was oozing crimson red blood.

"Eli..." she breathed, her chest rising and falling rapidly, approaching a point of hyperventilation. Finally, she snapped out of her trance and ran towards her older brother, crouching down to his side. She tenderly placed her hands on his shoulders, but he flinched away from her. "Eli, what happened?"

"Please, Maya," he cried, his voice wavering with his weakening body, "go to your room and call Mama. Please." He winced as more pain shot up his leg. The injury wasn't terrible, but it was, after all, a gunshot wound.

Tears flowed like a river down Maya's face and she didn't bother to wipe them away. Instead, she placed her hands on her brother's wound, all rationality fleeing her mind. She pressed down on the injury, the brown skin of her hands turning scarlet.

Eli hissed. Before they could interact any further, the front door slammed against the wall, leaving a crack among the many already on the beige concrete.

"Eli Hernandez!" shouted a police officer, his gun held out in front of him as he searched the room for the eighteen year old. When his eyes landed on the pair of siblings on the the ground, he lowered the gun slightly. His partner rushed towards Maya and hooked his hands under her arms, pulling her away from her brother.

"No!" She thrashed, hitting the officer in the face. "Let me go! He's hurt." Tears continued to flow from her eyes as she fought to stay beside her brother, who was being secured by the other officer.

The man took Eli's arms and handcuffed his hands behind his back. Eli continued to cry, wrinkles in his forehead as he whispered prayers.

"Eligio Hernandez," the officer spoke, roughly tugging at the handcuffs to make sure they were secure, "You're under arrest for the murder of Anthony Peterson."

Maya's blood became icy, sending chills down her spine. The loud noises emanating from the T.V. were drowned out by hers and Eli's cries.

Murder?