THE RENNINGTON CHRONICLES: Book 1 - The Night Professor

[Scene]: City on Fire! ...

It was mid-spring in the rustic, New England town of Rennington when a vast explosion thundered angrily in the dead of night. The dreadful blast woke nearly every resident in the vicinity. Mass panic ensued amongst the townsfolk as they frantically searched for answers whilst fearing for their safety. The poisonous smoke caked the air like a nuclear plant, belching into the night sky and permeating surrounding areas. As frightened citizens ran out onto the streets, they began to witness firsthand the blasts' aftermath. Windows shattered; structures were demolished; car alarms were triggering throughout, saturating the air like a clamorous symphony, while nearby emergency systems slowly failed. Injured seniors and children, assaulted by the horrific night's event, were laid out on the cold, hard concrete for comfort. As crowds started to gather in disarray, someone shouted, "LOOK! TURN AROUND!" The masses focused their attention down the street, where smoke billowed from behind the football stadium, abreast to the local school.

Mr. Wilson, a senior and pillar of the community, tremulously grabbed his cell to call for help, but the 9-1-1 Dispatch Line was blocked. Soon after, the crowd noticed several emergency sirens racing towards many affected areas. For many, the local school was a significant revenue stream for the region. The fear of possible devastation clouded the petrified citizens' thoughts, as many students and families lived or worked on campus. What if they are hurt? several contemplated. What if the school was destroyed? Dreary thoughts ran through the minds of many, especially since the closest hospital was far into the next city. As the crowd stood in awe over the tragedy, Mr. Wilson started walking towards the hazardous area, whispering, "I hope nothing's happened to our little Saints." Those sharing his sentiment followed him blindly into the night.

Before this madness, the world knew nothing of Rennington; she was just another unindustrialized, middle of nowhere backwater with no landmarks worthy of recognition. As the years went on, many families left the antiquated city to start anew, anywhere they could find better opportunities. For those that stayed behind, the few acceptable options remained in farming, local businesses, government, the clergy, and lastly, the local school, "SAINT BARTHOLOMEW ACADEMY OF THE SACRED HEARTS" (SBA). SBA was the only school in the town, and because of its boarding status, all attendees were required to live onsite during academic periods. To guardians and parents, the fear of the unknown grew more daunting by the second. As residents ran closer, they saw the flames from the hillside engulfing the affected areas, especially in the southern region. Many onsite residents were evacuated as the flames were being extinguished. The scene was pure terror, so much destruction and chaos. Parents already were desperately trying to escape the atrocity, fleeing in the opposite direction of their advancing nosy spectators.

As rescued families were taken to overflowing, poorly prepared shelters, firefighters worked tirelessly throughout the wee hours to salvage what they could. By then, half the academy was demolished. The area looked like a battlefields' aftermath, and the damage post a pandemic would undoubtedly place the region back under another state of emergency. Radio services remained inoperable; TV stations were now down as well. Many gathered in solidarity around law enforcement to hear what was going on. Screaming babies and the affected lamented through the night, scared with toxic fumes to fill their nauseated bellies. The town's crown jewel was gone, and her support along with it, her beautiful classrooms, now ash. Labs, and recreation rooms, now reduced to cinder. All that was left was the administrative building, but it was deeply in need of renovations before the damage. Now SBA as a whole seemed beyond saving.

Many couldn't believe that something like this could ever happen here. There was no doubt about it; this was no mere accident, many immediately suspected; it was JUDGEMENT. Media shots of the rescued students and staff tearing up from smoke inhalation or injuries while escaping were heart-rending. Only two-thirds of the population survived, as so many innocently trapped or sleeping lives died tragically in their stasis and were now being carried out in droves.

With so many now displaced, the town would indeed be devastated forever. Hope was moot at this point. After body IDs were traced, it later surfaced that the school's Chancellor, Father Vilham D. Flynn, was amongst the dead, which was an immense loss. Father Vilh provided sponsorship for the town and even applied his own family holdings to keep SBA afloat during his tenure. His death was a message that all read loud and clear; they were doomed. Law Enforcement did not share many details except that his incident must have triggered the fire. He was knocked over a sea of chemicals nearby, exposed wires from what police could tell. They believe that the substances ate through the cables triggering the fire that ruptured within the Observatory and later throughout the estate, sending a chain reaction throughout the town. Forensics uncovered trails of a large animal's footprints, nothing more. As reporters swarmed around the school, awaiting Sheriff Malachi's statement, the community banded together in a prayer-like fashion as yellow tape decorated the school grounds like one gigantic crime scene. Groups of specialists moved in and out, collecting large barrels of bio-hazard materials and carefully carting them out of the building. A team of coroners and police began rolling out black body bags, tagging them in a military fashion. They were wearing PPE and bio-hazard coats which drastically stood out to the locals. The crowd gasped as this was an unfamiliar reality to them. Then suddenly, a tween boy in the gathering shrieked, "HOLY SHIT! LOOK AT THE PILES."

Later, the Sheriff appeared very distraught and exhausted. Folks could see the terror on his face as he struggled to straighten himself before sharing his announcement. He officially declared that Father Vilh was killed at 2:40 am. by what appeared to be a large, wild animal. He further stated that the campus was now uninhabitable with a spooked and melancholy demeanor and would be closed indefinitely. The Sheriff refused to share the body count, just limited details about the devastation. As he trembly carried on, a hailstorm appeared out of nowhere, hail of all things, pouring heavily onto the mirky earth. As many rushed to find shelter, the sight of the unaccounted-for weather seemed biblically foreshadowing. "It's the middle of God-damn spring. What the hell could this mean?" one of the frightened townswomen lamented.

"Can't you see Jacqueline? It's a sign!" her friend warned. "We're in deep shit."

[Scene]: Across the Country ...

It was midday in a Bay Area courtroom, where three affluent law school students were awaiting sentencing for their involvement in a drug bust gone wrong. These young adults were no strangers to the perfidy of the spotlight. They were the offspring of high-profile town socialites, and the media went crazy, as these mini celebs were now awaiting the verdict of their lives. The assailants were:

[1] Ducque Phuong Li-Song, son of Mr. and Mrs. Li-Song – the famous restaurant tycoons. Known as 'The Asian-Biebs' of the Bay; he was a tall, attractive first-generation American with striking blonde hair and exquisite fashion sense. With his athletic stardom and academic excellence, no one would ever even suspect that he was a serial rapist of impressionable young jocks, mostly Filipino. He was caught with a dead boy's body in the trunk of his car.

[2] Delphine ('Fi') Shuster, daughter of Alexa Shuster – the TV actress turned 'Housewife' reality star. Fi was not your ordinary geek-goddess. The freckled-faced, voluptuous brunette for a long time hid behind her plain-Jane facade. She was a clandestine personality, constantly manipulating everyone around her, as evinced by her use of her mother's fame and connections to run a lucrative drug trade on campus. However, she was set up that night, and caught red-handed fleeing the scene of the crime with cocaine in her possession.

[3] Lastly, Amyra-Rose Moore, daughter of the illustrious town mayor, Lydia Kallie Moore-Braun, Esq. Amyra was a legal mastermind and a pillar of her law school's LGBTQ Collegiate society. She was a tall, beautiful young woman with a sexy, slender frame and luscious long, raven rouge hair. Her gorgeous hazel eyes paired nicely with her glowing almond-buttered tone, giving the angelic antagonist a visage that most certainly did not match the crime. Unlike her fellow L-gunners, she was innocent of any serious offense but had just fallen prey to the "wrong place, wrong time" scenario. Her ex-lover, Emma Blacque, was lying in her arms for several hours when the police busted onto the scene. When they found the two women, Amyra was cloaked with Em's blood, crying over the battered corpse of her lifeless girlfriend as she bled out. Hours that police alleged might have saved Em's drug-addled life if reported immediately. Because Amyra didn't call the police and subsequently moved the body, the cops asserted that was powerful evidence of her nonfeasance. With the media churning the story into a racial frenzy, all to ignite community riots, Em's father, a local minister, seized the opportunity to ruin the mayor's credibility instead of seeking justice for the crime.

To the world, these young adults were born into privilege with bright futures and promising expectations. Although they were not as influential as the 'Trump' or 'Gates' heirs, everyone felt that they were undeserving of their excess.

As Amyra sat nervously in her black pinstriped suit, she reached for her unresponsive mother, who was directly behind her, sitting alongside her close friend, Council President Romena Kline, the first openly LGBTQ politician in the community with strong ties to many influential players.

As the jury returned, the three assailants held each other's hands in solidarity, all more than a little terrified towards their respective destinies. They had too much to offer to be amidst the detritivores of society, not to mention the horrors facing them in prison, as rumored in the media. Amyra felt an ailing chill run down her spine. For the first time in her life, she couldn't control her situation.

Then attention quickly shifted as the Bailiff approached the center stage to address the courtroom. "ALL RISE! THE HONORABLE JUDGE JB. MATHEWS IS NOW PRESIDING." The crowd stood, and all eyes were fixed on the accused. Upon seating, the room became dreadfully quiet, as sounds from the outside media speaking of the "HILLSIDE SLAUGHTER 3 VERDICT READING IS NOW COMMENCING" started to creep in. Poster-boards and tee-shirts with images of an angelic and ethereal Emma Blacque were seen throughout and in the courtroom as parishioners from her father's church flooded the area awaiting the outcome.

Pastor Emmanuel Blacque was on a rampage for justice. In truth, Pastor Blacque has always hated Mayor Moore-Braun. He knew her when she was the former District Attorney, trying to make a name for herself. Back then, she brokered deals with gangsters and criminals to game the system. To jump-start her political career, she got rid of him and his associates ferociously by locking them up in jail. All of which eventually won her the mayoral seat.

Now that the tides have turned, it was his turn to make her suffer, and he loved every minute of it. Although there was no evidence or murder weapon to tie Amyra to his daughter's death, he was going to see for sure that the Moore's paid dearly for everything that had happened to the Blacque family. All over the news, the infamous Reverend Blacque joined forces with other militant-religious Afro-American leaders, constantly provoking the mayor and the media with messages of the pain of racial injustice and inequity in the town. Although they were there to present a united front, Mayor Moore knew better.

Someone was funding this, someone powerful. But who? Why?" she thought.

Now that the media was on his side, he used this platform to spark a nationwide frenzy of the hypocrisy of 'minority justice' regarding his daughter Em, stating, "if she were white, this would have already been resolved." His sights were fixed on Amyra; not because he believed she was responsible. but because he knew Em told Amyra a little secret. A secret about a father and daughter that should never have happened, ever. Either way, to the good-reverend, Amyra was the answer to two problems: her mother's past sins and his daughter's precious little tongue. And he had just the solution waiting for her cute, skinny, tight ass, in prison.

As the judge requested the verdict, Amyra (nauseated with anxiety), noticing the jury's determining faces, began to look away, not paying attention to the preface. As her tension heightened, she started to feel heavy eyes on her. Staring at the many angry disconcerted faces in the room, she noticed a different glaring coming from the court's back. In the ominous section of the last row, an elderly, lavish dressed gentleman kept his steely eyes fixed in her direction. His dapper clothes were striking, and he was leaning on a very extravagant cane. He appeared too distinguished to be a parishioner from Blacque's church, and his demeanor seemed peaceful, somehow friendly, but it was too dark for her to be sure. Although she could not make him out, his eyes emerged as clear as day; blue.

Now the Bailiff told the accused to rise. As the accused stood to hear their respective verdicts, Amyra reminded herself that no matter what happens, she did nothing wrong. The evidence about her was inconclusive, as she was incapacitated that night, and there was no murder weapon. Everything was going to be okay, she thought.. Then the jury's verdict was in; all accused were found; "GUILTY." WHAT? As an aghast, Amyra lowered her head in shame; she then turned to see her mother crying in the arms of her constituent Romena instead of her.

Fi's mother grabbed her darling baby, hugging her lovingly, even if just for a photo opportunity.

Ducque's parents just stood there, awaiting the complete translation to be conveyed.

Disheartened by this mortifying development, Amyra looked towards the back to see the dapper gentleman getting up to leave but turning back once more to see her again and still with the same calming smile. The only sense of genuine compassion she'd experienced in over nine grueling months. The darkened area still hid his face.

The news of the verdict ruptured in the area. Cheering roared through the crowd, hammering the entire courtroom like an explosion. The throng stood up, praising the judge and jury in gratitude for relinquishing the correct and necessary justice the people believed was well deserved.

As they were taken away, Amyra noticed that she was brought to a different area than the others.

She was stuck contemplating what went wrong with her case? Guilty, she thought. Guilty of what?

Later that day, Amyra could hear the various lawyers walking in and out of the judge's chambers, arguing amongst themselves. As she leaned closer to the door, she overheard that both Fi and Ducque got the max sentencing at distant county correctional facilities, which was harsh.

Hearing the news, Ducque's father attacked his son, striking him across the face before completely disowning him. Then his entire family turned their backs on him, stating he would get no help from them or their money in prison. He then spat in his face before finally walking away for good. His mother followed her husband mechanically, mutely crying as she marched firmly in his shadow. Feeling the fear and pressure cave in, Ducque tried to escape by fighting off two officers then running down the stairwell. However, his efforts ended tragically when he was gunned down near an emergency window. His mother heard the news and tried to reach him while he was still breathing. She quickly pushed past the police, holding her baby as the world watched him take his last few breaths. As the cameras rolled, he cravingly whispered to his mother, "請告訴父親,請原諒我.我祈禱我的死將恢復他的榮譽" -- right before dying in his mother's arms. His father was nowhere in sight.

Inside the courtroom, a terrified and tearful Amyra overheard the TV in the next-door breakroom; breaking news of Ducque's death was all over, trumping the story of a New England Town Catastrophe. She cried hearing so many mock Ducque's life as if he was the summary of his crime. They had known each other for almost a decade; he was like a brother to her. They were both only children and bonded in boarding school quite quickly, especially when families were no shows at pivotal times in their lives. He just got entrapped in a world where winning meant a lot of different things to different circles. Now he was dead. "Ducque... NO!" she exclaimed in a heart-rending cry of anguish.

Later that afternoon, as she sat in sheer disarray. Feeling famished, she reached into her purse to grab a stick of gum when suddenly, an upside-down crucifix fell out. Oh my gosh? She thought. It belonged to Em. "Baby," she said softly, crying. In sheer desperation, she recited a prayer Em taught her while awaiting her fate in despair. When meditating, she recalled Em forewarning her; "Just remember, you have to be willing to pay a price. The Baron doesn't work for free." With the dark rosary wholly wrapped around her hand, she spoke the ancient words, whilst hearing the analog clock behind her, ticking, tardily... seconds seemed to tire down. Then the crucifix pricked her thumb hard. "Ouch!" she said. What the fuck, she thought, quickly opening her eyes to assess. The blood dripped down to her wrist. She quickly suckled her finger to stop the flow when she recalled a tiny detail. She wore it that night, and it pricked her then too. However, she was too distressed to care for its relevance and continued to suckle when the door opened unexpectedly. Then Amyra swiftly put the bloody cross back into her purse.

It was her mother's aide. "She did it. It's time to go home, Amy," the aide said....

Later in the limousine, Mayor Lydia was thanking someone on the phone for their help. She was charming and grateful. Amyra didn't have to think about who it was; she already knew. It was Governor Larry Greene. Greene and her mother were friends since her mom interned as his council aid when he was the mayor. Since then, the two had always been close; to such, rumors of an affair surfaced, causing Greene's first wife to divorce him. However, the rumors quickly dissipated when Lydia swiftly married Benjamin Lucas Moore, Esq. then a successful civil rights lawyer from an affluent Jewish family. Yet Greene was always around.

As she listened to her mother's whispers, she rolled her eyes in contempt towards their inappropriate disposition.

Lydia Moore was saying, "We can't thank you enough. Give Soph my love, will you? Thanks again, Larr. Bub-bye."

The call ended. Amyra said, "Really, mother? You know he's just going to want something else in return."

An angry Lydia slapped Amyra hard across her face, causing her to knock her head against the limo's window. Then she grabbed her by the neck, villainously, yelling, "Do you have any idea the strings I had to pull just to keep you from going to fucking prison? What; you think a little shit like you can't get gang-raped or killed in there?

Breathing heavily, she ranted, "Have you any idea what this cost me? I've had it with you and your bullshit. It ends now."

"From this moment on, you are going to do what I say when I say it. If I tell you to fuck the Devil himself, you'll do so happily. There is no mercy for where you're going, and it's about God damn time. Now get the hell away from me, whore lover."

In a scratchy tone, she managed to say, "I'm sorry, Mother. I was out of line. It won't..."

Cutting her off, an angered Lydia was not having any of it, "Sorry won't do this time. You and I are done. Now, don't bother me again."

Amyra noticed the limo partitions slowly creeping up and thought, Great, here comes the gossip. She felt her anxiety instantly set in, suffocating her to suicidal desires again. She desperately wanted out of this life. As the chauffeur drove off, Amyra began to cringe in despair. She didn't care what her sentence was, so long as she could get away from here.

[Scene]: En Route to Rennington

It was early when Amyra stepped out of the police building in handcuffs, then immediately escorted into an unmarked car for transport. The paperwork given to the security escort read "MYRA BENJAMIN," as this was her new identity while in the program. Then the man assigned to transport her loaded the probationer's bags in the car while she sat in the back seat.

Mayor Moore-Braun then walked over to the car window to say her farewells. She signaled to the man driving the vehicle to roll down the rear passengers' window to speak with her daughter privately. She then leaned in to whisper, saying, "Remember what we spoke about? Any problems, and it's the end for you, got it! Should you fail, you will be disowned, and probably end up like that dead negro-prostitute you cared so much about. With a stern look in her eyes. "DON'T FUCK THIS UP!" Then she sealed her admonishment with a Judas-kiss on the cheek.

As the car drove off, Myra didn't turn back but kept facing forward, ignoring her Mother's ill-spoken threats, having already endured it for years. Keep it together, she thought. It will all be over, one way or another.

[Scene]: Welcome to the Pride...

They were now pulling into the town of Rennington and right on time. Myra was in awe of her new surroundings, as it seemed that nothing matched what she pinged before the police confiscated her tech. I thought this was cow country, she told herself. Watching the townsfolk roaming around, seemingly in good spirits, differed drastically from the tubed videos she watched depicting the catastrophe months prior. Where's the devastation?...the tent-shelters? she wondered. Rennington looked like any other regular emerging city but more modernized and a bit tech-savvier than expected.

They then passed through plush forestry, just up the hillside, which meant the school was close by. Oh my gosh, she thought. Amazing!

They could now see the school emerging ahead. The gorgeous title stood out on the lawn like a landmark.

"SAINT BARTHOLOMEW ACADEMY OF THE SACRED HEARTS"

The title was written with marble and fused with perfectly chiseled white stone and embossed with gold trimmings. Myra noticed the crowds of volunteers lining up around the building and the influx of cars, supply trucks, and food shipments, crowding all entrances into the estate, leaving mass congestion at every orifice. The lines of newly onboarding volunteers, returning faculty, and visitors were backed up beyond the main gate.

Pulling over, the trusting driver quickly opened the back door, letting Myra out, then pulled out her roller and duffle bags from the trunk. He also handed her a large, sealed manila envelope, entrusting her to self-register as the school was awaiting her reporting in and were fully aware of her court and house-arrest orders. He then wished her the best, but she surprisingly hugged him, thanking him for making her last few days pleasant. He smiled, telling her, "it's all good, young-n...just keep your head up, aight?" As the car slowly drove off, Myra turned around, walking towards the end of the exhaustive registration line.

[Scene]: ...In the Building

The line finally found its way into the AC -controlled building. Thank God, she thought. Water bottles and boxed meals were being distributed in line with onboarding gift bags paraphernalia post-sign-up. On the walls, there was historical literature showcasing SBA's history dating back to the Salem atrocities of the sixteenth century. As Myra moved further in line, she never kept her eyes off the clock, as she had until 5 pm to check in.

Seemingly agitated, having waited all day, she had to use the restroom and quickly stepped out to do so. However, when she tried to hurry back, she found herself lost in the enormous halls. "SHIT!" she exclaimed. Nervous due to the time, she went in every direction before her but didn't see the line she left.

She then continued to move through the halls until she luckily found the school's Registration's Office. Too tired to turn back, she went in and asked the receptionist for help, sharing her court orders with her. The agitated receptionist proceeded to review the files, and as soon as she saw her name, she stared intensely at the young girl before turning to make a call. She told Myra to "Please, take a seat." As a tired Myra walked over to the lounge area, she distinctly overheard the receptionist whisper, "she's in here," then looked up to find the woman eyeing her directly while taking instructions over the phone.

Suddenly, the office door abreast from reception opened, and a calm, mature woman wearing a Nun's habit with sweats underneath came out, looking directly at Myra. She then signaled for Myra to come in with a kind smile. Finally, Myra thought.

As she sat down, she noticed that they were in the prior Chancellor's office, as his photo was still hanging on the wall with the date of the catastrophe, as his expiration. The woman was attractive, but Myra quickly became focused on the boxed lunch the woman pulled out from the fridge. She then handed Myra the food, which she took quickly and started eating.

"I take it they didn't feed you yet?" Mother Magdalene said.

"Not yet. Thank you!" Myra said. She noticed before her a desk plate with the name Doctor Magdalene Graeves, MD. The woman then sat in the Chancellor's seat, reviewing Myra's file then looking back towards Myra to see her with a confused look towards the nameplate.

"Yep, that's me," she said, sounding jovial. "I prefer Dr. Mags. Have a thing against the Magdalene Sisters, you know!".

"I see you've gotten yourself into a bit of a pickle, hmmm?" Seeing the girl's discomfort, she told her, "Don't worry. I don't judge... after all; we're all fallen one way or another, right?"

Myra shrugged her shoulders.

"All I ask is that you do your part and try to keep out of any trouble, and I'll do my best to help you where I can. Okay?" She also reviewed Myra's provisions with her.

As she concluded, Myra looked at the remaining onboarding items she received, one of which was a antiquated flip phone, then back at Dr. Mags.

In gratitude, she said, "Thank you; for everything."

Dr. Mags smiled. "I feel good about you; you'll do fine here," she said. "Welcome to Saint Bartholomew Academy!"

[Scene]: Welcome Home...

As Myra walked into the two-story loft, she was immediately flabbergasted by its ridiculous furnishings and petite size. What in hell? Seriously? she exclaimed. If this wasn't a cell, it was impeccably close.

"It's kinda cute," said the security guard, placing Myra's bag on the dated tile floor, but a shocked Myra didn't respond. As the door closed behind her, Myra slowly walked into the living room and sat down on the wretched couch, congesting the center space. But she was too tired to care. She was exhausted, tired from all the betrayal, the threats, and the loneliness. "Em," she whispered. "Why did you lie to me?" Yet sleep did not come instantly. The empty, ominous room provided no comfort, yet she had to endure it, seemingly alone.

[Scene]: ...Welcoming BBQ

As Myra stepped off from the trolley, she walked over to the campus BBQ which, to her, looked more like a mini-county fair. The entire community was there; some came with their families or fellow townsfolk. After an excellent welcome speech and opening prayer by Dr. Mags, visitors cheered heavily for their new fearless heroine and leader, the one that never let the town down. Listening to the gossiping patrons, Myra learned that Dr. Mags was the reason SBA was still standing, even after the threat of closure ensued. Yes, she was a true angel to the people, and all believed Rennington would have fallen if it were not for her.

After finally grabbing her dinner, she noticed a secluded spot towards the back of the bleachers, away from the Bonfire and the majority of guests. She quickly sat there, not noticing that someone already claimed the area. While eating, she then saw a fresh pair of sneakers staring back at her. When she looked up, it was a cute, spunky little young Latin woman standing there wearing an assistant cheerleading coach jacket. She also had a tattoo on her ring finger, the kind someone would get in prison to show partnership. The two shared a quick smile while the lady was getting off the phone.

Tari said, "You must be new, huh?"

"Yup. I'm Myra M... Benjamin."

"Okay, M... Benjamin. And you're also in my seat, boo!" Laughing kindly, she then told her, "It's all good. Don't worry bout it. (sitting next to her) I'm Ataria Cruz, but people call me Tari."

The women immediately hit it off, talking about little nothings, where they lived, worked, and the 'how goes its' people generally do in first introductions. She felt comfortable with Tari. She was easy to talk to and funny, with her quirky sensibility and comedic take on every topic discussed. The two women eventually exchanged contacts, and Tari offered to help Myra take some things back to her place.

Meanwhile, as the two women were walking away, staring at Myra across the courtyard was Dr. Mags. She was elated to see Myra out, assimilating, and in better spirits than prior. And Tari would definitely play a perfect distraction. There was something about her, Mag's thought. Destiny was in play; it brought her here. But only time would tell this tale, Mags thought. Yes, indeedie; for now, you're one of us.

[Scene]: One Afternoon...

As the days lingered, Myra felt she was getting nowhere fast, and the longer she was here, the slower things took. The dreary monotony of waking early and going to bed late was slowly draining the life from her. Too proud to ask for help, she suffered silently and only took freebies from Tari. Yet, as abysmal life was to her when she would observe her equally unfortunate coworkers, they were the opposite in demeanor. They always seemed cheerful and laughing. Day by day, they worked hard, taking pride when listening to their cultural tunes while singing and dancing at a moment's notice.

After break, Myra was putting away the last of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher when Maricela Nunez, a 24-year-old veteran, was carrying some clean racks of dishes back from the dishwasher when she slipped and almost fell, but Myra caught her. Seeing the lady was still in pain, she helped her to the breakroom to rest and cleaned up the mess before completing her shift.

The next day, Maricela found her during break-time sitting alone in the stockroom. She then asked her to join her for lunch. When it was time to eat, Hector, Maricela's nephew, snuck in a few extra serving containers for the team. The area was set up almost like a Thanksgiving feast. Seeing Myra was oblivious in the moment, the room became surprisingly still. Only the sounds of the radio and a rusty blowing fan could be heard. As Myra continued to spread honey on her peanut butter sandwich with dated apple slices, the others watched in amazement. "Qué diablos está haciendo ella? ... said Leo.

The others couldn't believe that she would eat so wretchedly when there was so much food here. Then, Maricela (the group's matriarch) silenced their whispers, shouting... "cállate", then walked over to Myra and took her lunch from her, then threw it in the trash.

Maricela turned back to Myra, saying, "It's okay, baby."

Maricela then spoke to Cesci and asked her to make Myra a plate. Pronto!

"Ju eat with us; no?" Maricela asked.

Nervously, Myra responded, "Ummm...I don't have any money to pay..."

"Neither do we!"

EVERYONE LAUGHED!

As that day ended, Maricela came over to Myra with a few bags of grocery items from the kitchen.

Maricela asked, "Ju take this home, si?"

"It's okay. I'm fine!"

Pulling Myra aside, Maricela said, "How much do ju think these kids really eat? They no eat, and we here all days."

"I know," Myra told her, "I can't afford any more problems. It's complicated."

Maricela said, "Baby. I don't know why they put a smart girl like ju here, but ju're one of us now. Like ju, we make pennies with no overtime. Sure, we have a union, but that's to keep the cops from sending us home. So we find our own way. Tu comprendes?"

As days followed, she started showing Myra the ropes of how the other half lived. How the illegals survived under the radar. Any time before today, she would have jumped at the chance to judge blindly, but now, she was the destitute one; ironic.

[Scene]: A Month Later...

Myra returned home, escorted by Tari and Maricela, blindfolded. As they walked through her door, Myra smiled, expecting a birthday cake and the new bathroom Julio's cousin promised for weeks now, but her new comrades had something else in mind. As coworkers and friends stood around quietly, waiting to capture her reaction, Maricela could not hold back her suspense and pulled the blindfold off from Myra's eyes. "Now, Myra," said Maricela

"SURPRISE" everyone shouted.

She turned to Maricela's shoulder, crying, filled with so much reverence,.

They celebrated her birthday with a completely made-over apartment, giving the once tight-knit place a roomier look and feel. She brushed her hands on the built-in desk and smiled at the brand-new island-themed living room set whilst staring down at the smiling faces downstairs dancing to music and enjoying the new place with her, thinking, I really love you guys.

[Scene]: In the dead of Night...

After everyone left, a sleepless Myra walked down towards the patio where the fire pit was still lit. She sat down in front of the pit, staring purposelessly at the flames. With the crucifix in her hand, rubbing it over and over, yet nothing happened while she sat rapt by the sounds of crackling firewood. As she drifted to sleep; her memories of that night started to come back.

Reminiscing about Em's death, Myra started to recall that the drink Em gave her was laced. Then waking up to the stench of death with no shoes or panties on, and 6 dead men circled around the bed, symbolically. She recalled going to the bathroom to throw up, then finding Em face-down on the putrefied, bathroom floor. Her throat sliced, which damn near terrified the shit out of her. As she looked closer, Em's eyes were staring aimlessly at the ceiling. Myra saw herself holding Em's dead body, her socks now soaked from the bloody floor. Upon looking down at her face, the dead Em quickly stared back at her, saying, "You happy now, Bitch?"

Myra screamed... then immediately awoke from the night terror. She looked down to find Em's crucifix burning in the pit's flames but couldn't get to it. Shit! Her mind howled, freaking out. As it burned, she thought, just like Em, she couldn't save it. Now there's nothing left. How did it fall from over here? So many questions, yet no answers would come tonight. She then turned to the clock, 3:33 am. Fuck! she thought. A few hours left.

She swiftly went back to bed, quickly passing out. As she slept, a dark figure emerged from her wall mirror, watching her. Its wall-to-wall fluorescent green eyes glowed at the sleeping beauty, watching every breath she took while an 80's love song played on the radio.