Red Running

My feet were bleeding. I couldn't see the blood, but I could feel the raw bottoms of my feet as they slapped the pavement, carrying me step after step. The whole process felt useless, but I had to try. The red necklace that hung around my neck swung recklessly. I tried to pull it off, but my efforts were useless. I cried out as I tripped over the curb, breaking the silence. My feet landing in a filthy pool of water and who knows what else. The torn skin burned. I cursed myself for making the noise.

"Idiot, what's wrong with you?" I muttered, stumbling back onto the curb. "Can't you do anything right? What, you can't run faster? Run, run, run." I thought I heard something rustling behind me. I didn't wait to see if a flash of white accompanied the movement. Better to be safe than sorry, Ma always said.

"They said that those Cryps are supposed to be coming through this part of town tonight. How 'bout you stay home?"

"But Ma," I whined. "Please? They probably won't come to this party, anyway! Too many of us Bloods. Besides, Jackson will keep 'em away!" She sighed and shook her head.

"I know you want to go, but it's better to be safe than sorry." I groaned and stomped back to my room. After sulking for a minute, I heard something knock against my window. I pulled back the curtain and saw a tall, large figure. It was Jackson, waving me down. I grinned.

Pictures ran though my head. Home. Too far away. Jackson's house. A bubble of laughter overtook me.

"Jackson!" I laughed, letting tears run down my face. I fell onto a lone patch of grass and rolled over, scrambling to get back up, needing to keep running.

"Jackson, you're dead," I giggled, seeing his blood spray out of his chest. I looked at my red hands. "You're dead, Jackson." The memory of a gunshot shocked my ears. My laughter suddenly subsided and fear overtook me.

"You're dead, and he wants me dead too."

"Hello," he said, smiling down at me. I couldn't see his eyes, but the rest of his face looked absolutely handsome. I glanced at his shirt, confirming the red color.

"Hello," I replied shyly.

A gentle rain began to rinse the sweat off my skin. The soft beating against the concrete and asphalt disguised the beating of my feet as they ran, regaining their previous steadiness.

"I'm sorry, Ma," I whispered to myself, ashamed of the insanity I'd displayed on the street earlier, even though no one was watching. How did this happen? His shirt was red, I'd checked. It had been red.

The music was loud and full of bass, just like all parties. We danced closely, our bodies pressed together. His lips snuck towards my ear.

"You're beautiful," he whispered. I smiled and ran my hands over his chest.

"So are you," I replied. He pressed his lips to my skin, just below my ear. And somehow, in ten minutes, we were in a room, lying on a bed, and I was listening to him telling me how much he loved me. And I responded with the same enthusiasm, because we were in love.

That's when I saw the church. Every Sunday, I went to church with Ma. A man always stood in the front, telling us that what we did was wrong. We had to stop the fighting and the guns and the pain. Jackson and I always rolled our eyes. He didn't understand. He spoke to us as if we could actually do something. No, not us. You would have to talk to the Kings to get it to stop.

"I want to marry you," he murmured as he stroked my hair.

"I've known you for four hours, and I'm saying yes," I smiled. His rich, baritone laugh made my heart soar.

"I love you," he repeated. Then the doors were pushed open. He leapt out of bed like a scared cat.

The church. Surely someone would be at church. They could help me. They could get me out of this terrible mess. Maybe they could get him out of this terrible mess, too.

It was the Cryps' King. They came to the party in red, not in their own colors. They wore the wrong colors to this masquerade party. He didn't get too mad at my love. He just insisted to be allowed to have me. I screamed when my love did nothing to stop the Cryps King. Jackson ran in. The Cryps King told my love to shoot Jackson. He did.

Then I heard him behind me. I slung open the church door and ran towards the altar.

They all heard the gunshot. A fight broke out, Bloods versus Cryps. Home versus Away. I began to run.

"Get her or I'll get you," the Cryps King said. That's when the chase began.

My bloody feet slid on the slick, cool floor. I heard his heavy shoes pounding in after me. I fell at the feet of Jesus, hanging on his cross.

"Father, forgive us," I gasped. Another gunshot pierced the night.

Romeo killed his Juliet, because it seems like even love can't hold something together these days.