Hate Red Cars

A teen girl, Jassbury, walks down the front steps of her small Glendale double floor home to fetch the mail from the small mail box near the end of her driveway.

"hey Jazz! how's it going, babe?" yells her boyfriend Hector from across the street, who was riding on his bike to his friends house to hang out. He crosses the street and stops on the side walk next to her. Jazz turns, squats, and opens the door to the mailbox.

"fine, thanks. can you come over later? i'm home alone because my paremts are on an anniversary vacation thing. i still can't believe they left me alone knowing i'm not single... i need company, anyway," she says. Hector shrugs and smiles a little.

"yeah... kind of a bad idea. my dad's going to a funeral, and my mom's kinda sick, so i hafta stay home and make sure she's ok... i also hafta call the doctor tomorrow," he replies.
"oh... ok. maybe tomorrow we could get some coffee at starbucks," she swings around with the mail and surprise hugs him.
"well, my bros are expecting me right now, and i haven't seen 'em in a while, so 'bye," he calls out as he climbs back onto his old bike. Hector turns around quickly without looking, and the next thing Jazz sees is a limp, blood soaked Hector halfway under a red convertible.