The Herilooms

Lottie

I often tend to find myself in weird, or odd, situations; that never happens to other people, or at least seems like they only happen to me. Fortunately, there aren't very many times when the police have been involved. Unfortunately, they have been involved before. Only twice, but that's still more times than I'd like. The first time happened when I was rather young, around 6 or 7. After a traumatizing incident, a whole squad of police cars and even a few helicopters surrounded me and my family. I was pulled away from them, kicking and screaming and crying, while my family was taken away on gurneys. To this day, it's an open case. A cold case, but an open one.

My second and last interaction with the police happened when I was 17. I went to a football game that my high school was holding against the school's biggest rivals, the Rogues, and I was just like any other teenage girl that night. To be fair, I'm fairly good at being 'normal' and 'average.' That night, I was wearing my now ex-boyfriend's jersey, which was tucked into the hem of my cheerleading skirt. I was with the rest of the cheerleaders, getting the over-crowded bleachers excited and rooting for our team and occasionally battling the other side of the field, the visitor's side, with cheers in between plays. It was after the game after the crowds had already gone home. The cheerleading squads and football teams were cleaning up the bleachers when all of the lights shut off. Phone lights came on after a moment, and it took a moment for anyone to realize. No one knew how to respond. That night, 17 people unexplainably died. Each one from a heart attack. Each one only 17 years old. This case is still open. Another cold case.

So, yeah. Maybe those odd situations I'm in often involve death or injury, but they occasionally involve unexplainable miracles. Right now? Not so much a miracle.

"Just let me make sure I'm understanding this," The guy standing a few feet from me says slowly and with uncertainty. I feel my head fall to the side a bit as I watch him, wondering why he seems so put off. "You found a guy in the alley," His eyes flicker up and down my figure. "A-and you helped him and instead of going home and changing, you came to the library?" Nodding, I moved my gaze back to the bookshelf I had been looking at before he disturbed me.

"Of course. The library closes at 10 and I live half an hour away." I mutter in response, finding the worn-out spine of the book I often check out.

"But it's 8:45, and you're covered in someone else's blood?"