CHAPTER THREE: SEEING RED

Blue and red lights alternated through the large tinted windows of Baxter’s Diner. They reflected off of the many children’s minor league trophies and the wooden framed photographs that adored the maroon walls, like an unwanted strobe light.
    They flickered through my eyelids, where I was tucked away in Booth 14, still soaking wet and shaking, furthest from the entrance and any windows in the dining area.
    Jennifer had called Randy and asked for her to bring me a change of clothes from home, but they remained untouched, tied in a blue plastic grocery bag on top of the table.
    When I had ran back into the restaurant, I thought that I was screaming, “Call the cops! Call 9-1-1!” But according to my mom, I was crying hysterically, covered in blood and speaking in broken tongues.
    Upon investigating, finding the mass amount of blood coating the inside of my car, she assumed that I had hurt myself. After much convincing and showing my unscathed skin, she gave in and called the police.
    I shuddered and curled into myself tighter at the memory.
    “Ri-Ri, drink this,” Randy’s gentle voice broke me out of the reservoir. She set a mug of hot chocolate in front of me. But the overly sweet scent made my stomach churn, so I pushed it away.
    “Please, be gentle with her,” I heard Jennifer say somewhere in the background. I wondered how far away she was- her voice was stretched, echoed, like she was speaking through a tunnel- but I was too tense to strain my neck to find her. “I think she is in shock.”
    My hands were trembling too violently. I tried to move them to cover up my face, then realizing that they were still probably coated in blood, I withdrew them and gaped at my fingers. The blood was drying, turning a rusty brown color. I yelped and tried to wipe them off on my shorts.
    “Mariah?” An unfamiliar voice, distinctly male, was asking my name.
    My voice quavered, but I still managed to correct him. “Riley,” I said. “Not Mariah. It’s Riley.”
    “Alright, Riley. My name is Chief Edwards. I need to ask you a few questions. Is that okay?”
    I decided to brave a glimpse at him. I peered up from beneath of my eyelashes, but didn’t recognize the man: He was older, with salt and pepper colored hair and a thick beard; built tall, but more heavyset than muscular; and his eyes were small, wrinkled around the edges from age. Overall, he felt safe, so I nodded my head yes.
    He pulled a chair over to my booth and spun it around backwards, then placed a small leather notebook on the arched metal back.
    “Getz, grab a blanket for the girl out of my car,” he ordered someone behind him, then he added to my parents, “I’m going to have to ask both of you ladies to please wait in the other room. She can’t have any distractions.”
    I think they may have protested, because when I looked up again another officer was escorting them away into the bar area.
    “Now, Riley, I need you to tell me what happened?”
    I took in a deep breath, then told him what I remembered. “I was walking out to my car, and it felt like someone was watching me. I was scared, so I got into my car really quick and locked the doors. After that is when I noticed all the blood.”
    Something heavy fell onto my shoulders. The sudden pressure startled me, and I shrieked and tried to shove it away.
    “It’s only a blanket,” Chief Edwards said, reaching out and placing a hand on my shoulder in an act of what was probably meant to be comfort. I desperately tried to stabilize my breathing with the blanket weighing me down. The fabric was itchy on my bare arms, making me squirm, so I knocked it off.
    “Did you have your car locked prior?” he continued to question, writing in the notebook.
    I nodded. “Yes. I always lock my car.”
    “You said you felt like you were being watched. Did you ever see anyone?”
    “No. I didn’t really spend too much time looking around.”
    The Chief heaved a heavy sigh. “We searched your car, and the area. There was no blood. There aren’t even any fingerprints. Everything is clean.”
    All of the noise that had been echoing in the distance; the reflections of the lights from the squad cars; the face of the officer in front of me; everything diminished. I felt like I was standing alone in the middle of a black hallway, being drug backwards, watching the reality I knew be pulled out of my reach. The only noise that registered was my own heartbeat, thundering in my ears.
    I jolted up, nearly knocking the table over in the process. I barely noticed the pain in my knees as I darted for the front doors.
    “Riley!” Chief Edwards called after me. I didn’t stop. I continued to run, stumbling over my own feet as I made my way through the double doors, across the parking lot, and broke through the yellow tape that surrounded my car. When I finally stopped, my shoes skidded across the wet asphalt. A nearby officer grabbed onto me to keep me from completely falling.
    I shrugged his sturdy hand off and edged closer to my car, peering into the open driver side door.
    It looked untouched.