Riley
"Okay, what the hell are we doing here?" Claire, my best friend, questioned. "And why now? It's almost eight and it's kind of dark out here, not gonna lie."
I was in a small friend group in my high school, Manhattan. The group consisted of Claire, Ryan, Bella, and me, and everyone was very close despite previous broken off relationships.
Bella died many months ago, almost a year ago, and Claire as well as Ryan slowly got out of the grieving process after the first eight months, but I never really had closure knowing that my best friend's killer was still out there somewhere.
Claire was the average teen girl, though she never really died her hair blonde like Bella did; she had long, black locks that fell past her shoulders.
Bella—on the other hand—had straight, blonde hair that she curled at the ends every morning, and after the recent pandemic across the entire world, she was one of the select teens who wore pajamas to school.
Ryan was the average jock, though he was silently nerdy. I never really understood how he had straight A's whereas the rest of my classes who played sports their whole lives had B's or below. Ryan had brown hair, though it was pretty dark so some thought it might've been black, and he had those odd brown eyes that also had specks of black in them.
I—on the other hand—was the mixed race teen in the group; I had dark brown curly hair that—for some reason—decided to be wavy some days. I straightened it most of the time, and of course curled it at the ends. I honestly hated how it looked naturally, and I had to buy expensive hair stuff in order to get those coils I really liked. My skin was a very light brown, so light that some considered me tan. I had beautiful silver eyes, as my mother once said; the eyes I got from my ancestors. And my average day-to-day clothes were skirts and a T-shirt, or jeans and a sweatshirt.
If I wore skirts, it was usually worn with leggings. I honestly didn't like showing off my body like other girls did.
"Earth to Riley," Claire said, waving a hand in front of my face. "We've been standing here for ten minutes, and it's getting kind of chilly. What's happening, girl?"
"Ryan was in my bedroom earlier," I explained, "and as I was shoving him out the door, I found a feather in my room."
"So, we looking for a bird, or...."
"No," I answered shortly, "I looked out the window and saw a guy out there."
Claire raised her brows. "Secret boyfriend?"
"No, I don't even know him," I said. "And can you please let me speak? Thanks." I stared off into the distance for a moment. "He was wearing a masquerade mask, and it had like these weird horns and feathers attached to the sides, but when I was going to ask him who he was, he told me to be silent."
"That's creepy."
"He pointed to the roof of my house," I said, pulling out a note from my pocket, "and I found this."
Claire read the lines of the note before pulling back. "Riley, if you get us killed, I swear to God."
"We're going to be fine," I answered. "He told us to meet him here and he mentioned that I could bring a friend if I felt unsafe alone. So that's a good sign, right?"
"Or because he has an entire group of strong ass men with him so they can mug us and dump us in the river." Claire put her thumbs up. "Great job, Riley. We're dying tonight."
I just stared off in the distance for a moment. "I don't know why... but I have a feeling he's going to help us."
"Why do you have this feeling? Did he say something about it?" Claire questioned.
I didn't know why, but when I found the feather from his mask that flew in my window, I got a sudden assurance that I was safe... Mainly because I found the same dark feather at my father's grave, and the other at Bella's.
It was highly possible that this guy was the murderer... but something told me...
He was someone else.
But I didn't know if he was harmful or helpful.
Not yet.
Claire bumped my shoulder suddenly, and nodded to the alley ahead of us when I glanced at her.
"Is that him?" she whispered.
I squinted my eyes, noticing a dark figure standing in the shadows of the alleyway, the same cloak waving around him like tides in an ocean, and the same black mask covering him from his eyes up.
The hood was always drawn over his hair, so I couldn't see it's color or style.
I took one step up to the man, watching to see if he stiffened or gave any signs of excitement or nervousness.
He gave off nothing, and instead, just stood there.
So I stepped up to him faster, Claire whispering in protest, "Riley!" but I heard her follow seconds later.
I slowed when the mysterious boy put his hand out, indicating for me to stop.
And I did.
But Claire was far behind, and when I narrowed my eyes to watch the boy's blue gaze, I whispered, "You look young."
"Riley," he whispered menacingly, making me stare up at him when he shielded his voice with the quiet one, "you're entering dangerous waters. You need to tread more carefully."
"What are you talking about?" I questioned him.
"Girl, you run too fast!" Claire said, gasping as she continued to run to me.
"Riley," he said, leveling his blue eyes with mine, "you're in danger. I don't think you understand that. You need to stop searching for the culprit."
"How the hell did you know I was searching for the culprit?" I questioned suspiciously. "How do you know my name? How did you know where I live? And how do you know so much about me?"
"You won't understand," the man told me. "You're completely arrogant, for one. And you must give up the curiosity and the guilt, for two. This obsession to find the killer is not how the grieving process works. It's dangerous, what you're doing. There are dangerous men wanting to hurt you, so stop being a moron and back off. That's the police's job for a reason, you idiot."
"Stop being a dick, emo boy," I said at his name-calling. "Also, why does everyone call it an obsession?" I questioned angrily. "And why doesn't anyone understand that I can take care of myself? I have training for these situations."
"Karate won't be the only thing that could protect you from a gun to your head, Riley," he stated coldly. "And the fact that you have such confidence in these things without proper training is dangerous. Stay away from the searching. The police will find the culprit."
"You seem like you know everything!" I said to him, Claire stopping at the mouth of the alley and gasping. "Why can't you run to the police and tell them everything you know, huh? Let them capture the killer! Who's the moron now, huh?"
The boy's eyes grew darker. "You're such an idiot."
"What?" I questioned.
"I'm not on good terms with the police, Riley. Clearly—with the mask? In fact, I'm wanted across the entire state, but they don't know what I look like. I just wear this as a precaution."
My eyes grew. "What did you do?"
He sighed, shaking his head. "Stay away from this, Riley. And you'll live; life is precious. I only take it when it's needed. Goodbye."
"Stop," I stated, catching his arm to prevent him from leaving, "did you kill them? Did you kill Bella?"
"No," he answered shortly.
"What did you do?" I questioned. "Should I trust you or run from you?"
He was giving off mixed signs.
"I'm dangerous," he answered vaguely. "But I am your ally."
"How dangerous?" I continued. "Did you kill anyone? Hurt them?"
He never responded.
I let go of his arm then, eyes widening when I backed away.
He just stood there, watching my next move.
I caught Claire's arm.
"Ow!" she said, clearly taken off guard. "What's going on? What the hell?"
"You're staying at my house tonight," I told her as I continued to stare at the boy. "No fighting, got it?"
"Uh, okay," she said.
I started backing out of the alleyway, keeping my eyes on the boy as I pulled Claire along with me.
My best friend just seemed to glance around nervously. "Are we in danger?"
"I don't know," I answered, "but let's go home. Now."
We both ran out of the alleyway, me pulling my phone out of my pocket and dialing 9-1-1.
"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"
"I think I found a killer," I said, "I'm safe, but I last saw him at an alleyway behind a brewery on Coal Street. I'm not sure if he's still there. He wears a masquerade mask and a black cloak, he told me he's on the run from the police."
"Okay, police are on their way, can I catch your nam—"
I hung up on them, pushing my phone into my pocket.
"Why did you do that?" Claire questioned. "It would help them protect you."
"I can't trust anyone I don't know," I answered. "It's too dangerous."
And we ran back home seconds later.
Author's note:162Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqH38uQWv5n
Did you really think the police would get to him? Hehehe. She made a mistake.
162Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ91lSeHHWeQ
