𝓡𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓯𝓪𝓽𝓮

W͢a͢n͢n͢a͢ b͢e͢ m͢y͢ f͢r͢i͢e͢n͢d͢?

4. Wanna be my friend?

"I know someone's inside; y'all are just too damn impatient," Chavo spat, pounding on the metal door with a deafening clang. "Open this door, or I'll tear it off its hinges!"

"We're closed, I told you!" Pascal's voice trembled, barely audible over the ringing of his cell. It was his dad. Outside, Chavo continued his relentless assault on the door.

"Pascal, why aren't you home yet? I'm nearby; I'll swing by your site, and we can head home together," his dad's voice boomed through the phone.

"Okay, Dad," he replied, but the violent banging reverberated through the line.

"Pascal! What in God's name is happening over there? Are you safe?" His dad's voice was tight with panic.

"Dad, I've got it," Pascal said, trying to sound reassuring. His dad's frantic shouts echoed in his ear. Pascal hung up, his heart pounding. He grabbed his rifle, a Weatherby Mark V, a cherished gift from his father, its wood stock cool against his sweaty palms. He approached the door, the metallic tang of fear filling his nostrils. Unlocking it with a sharp click, he swung it open, leveling the rifle. "Who are you?" Pascal demanded, his voice shaking slightly as he aimed at Chavo, who also had a gun drawn. The air crackled with tension.

"I told you, there's nothing here, just some damn riverbank worker," Jonas said, trying to block Chavo's arm. "Get the hell out of my way, you daddy's boy," Chavo snarled, shoving Jonas aside with brutal force, the rifle slipping from Pascal's grasp and clattering on the concrete floor.

Ready to fire, Chavo was interrupted by the screech of tires and the sudden appearance of Pascal's dad, gun raised. He fired a warning shot into the air, the sharp report stinging the ears and momentarily freezing everyone in place. "Get away from my son!" he roared, his face contorted with rage as he aimed at Chavo.

"This is a bad idea. Don't shoot; let's just walk away," Jonas pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation.

"Too late for that," Chavo spat, his eyes glinting with malice as he pulled the trigger.

Boom!

"No, no, no, Father!" Pascal screamed, the world tilting as he watched his dad crumple to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. A crimson stain bloomed on his chest, spreading like a morbid flower. He rushed to him, his hands slick with his father's blood, desperate to move him, but found only a heavy, lifeless weight. "No! I will kill you!" Pascal roared, consumed by a grief so profound it threatened to shatter him.

As if summoned by the devil himself, his mom appeared, her face a mask of terror and fury. She fired wildly at Chavo, the bullet whistling past his ear. Chavo turned, his expression cold and predatory, aiming at her. He pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Boom!

Pascal, fueled by adrenaline and despair, threw himself in front of his mom, the bullet tearing into his flesh. He collapsed to the floor, a strangled cry escaping his lips.

"I told you not to do this! You killed the guy; now what are we gonna do about his mom?" Jonas said, his voice laced with panic and disgust. "You fucked up, man."

Theresa collapsed beside her son, her body wracked with sobs, her fingers tracing the cold, still faces of her husband and son. She rose, her eyes burning with a terrible light, her voice raw with anguish. "You will pay for this! All of you, especially you!" she shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at Chavo, still cradling her lifeless loved ones.

"What do we do now?" one of the men whispered to Chavo, his face pale with fear.

"We're dipping," Chavo said, his voice devoid of emotion. He turned and fled back toward the sheep, his footsteps echoing in the sudden silence, the others following him like shadows.

★★★★★★

Evelyn
The next day,
"Are you still sleeping, lovely?" Guero said, his voice soft as he watched Evelyn slumber. "Your aunt will be back in an hour; she won't like it if she sees you still in bed at this hour," he continued, his gaze lingering as he gently touched her legs beneath the blanket. "Isn't the weather cold?" Guero murmured, but Evelyn stiffened, subtly resisting his touch, signaling him to stop. Slowly, she woke. She sat up, turned, her expression unreadable. "How was your night, lovely?" Guero asked, but Evelyn remained silent. "Don't you have a phone, lovely?" he pressed, but still, Evelyn didn't respond, her silence a heavy weight in the room. "Well, your aunt said you should make breakfast and clean the house; she might be back around eight or nine."

She did as she was told that morning, moving through the tasks with a quiet, almost mechanical precision.

Evelyn finished breakfast, washed the dishes, and decided to take a little stroll through the streets. The air was filled with a vibrant energy, a kaleidoscope of activity painting a picture of daily life. The market buzzed with vendors hawking their wares, their voices blending with the laughter of children chasing each other through the square. The rhythmic beat of drums and the melodic strains of traditional music drifted from a nearby celebration, a tapestry of sound weaving through the scene. "Maybe it's a new place to start all over," she whispered to herself, finding a bench in the park to soak in the fresh air and the town's peaceful weekend mood.

A girl with fiery red hair pulled back in a messy bun, revealing a constellation of freckles across her nose, came and sat beside her. Her clothes, a mix of vintage denim and brightly colored patches, spoke of a free spirit.

"Hi," the girl said, her voice warm and inviting. Evelyn shyly waved back. "Are you good?" the girl asked, and Evelyn nodded. "You don't look familiar; I haven't seen you around," the girl continued, but Evelyn just looked at her, wanting to speak, but the words remained locked inside.

"Well, I'm Kassandra," the girl said, casually lighting a cigarette. "Evelyn," Evelyn managed to say, a hint of discomfort in her voice. "Okay, Evelyn, tell me about you?" Kassandra asked, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Well, not much drama in my life, just life being unfair to me, so that's it," Evelyn sighed.

"Yeah, life can be unfair to everyone; we just gotta keep moving. Do you have friends?"

"No," Evelyn said, genuinely.

"Wanna be my friend?" Kassandra winked, a playful glint in her eyes.

"Sure," Evelyn said, a small smile gracing her lips. Kassandra extended her hand, and Evelyn shook it firmly. "Cool," they both said, laughing softly. "Let's walk around; I could show you around the town and tell you more about the people," Kassandra said, and Evelyn nodded eagerly.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Kassandra asked.

"No," Evelyn replied. "Well, I have a boyfriend; he's very popular in town, and he's a nice guy, but can be very possessive," Kassandra said boastfully. "Okay," Evelyn said as they continued talking. Unseen, from a distance, men watched them, their cameras clicking, capturing pictures of Evelyn.