Young Writers Society

"Staring down the barrel of my own sisters gun, I reflected on the many poor decisions I had made that forced me into this situation."

“Excellent” Nicola sighed weakly, staring into the flickering wasteland of her fridge. Soon realizing that glaring into the frosty abyss of her fridge would in fact not conjure enough milk to supplement her morning tea, she abandoned post.

With minimal effort, Nicola adorned a silk housecoat and remained barefoot as she braved the horrifyingly cheap carpet landing leading to the apartment opposite. There was no risk of having socialize with strangers in the hall, as Nicolas apartment was one of only two rented out in the small terraced building. She knew the habits of her neighbors well enough to avoid the newlyweds on a daily basis, and considered the semi-isolation a highlight of the property.

She inhaled deeply before stopping just before the welcome mat. The noise of the landlord arriving home after the night shift at St. Beamount's echoed up the stairs as her keys danced on the glass panel in the front door.

That sound was then interrupted by an immediate close ranging clamor, which cautioned Nicola about her intention to knock on her neighbor's door. Though it was difficult to make out exactly what the noise was, or who it was coming from, Nicola surmised using the knowledge from previous situations that this was the beginning of another argument between the recently wed pair.

It had been less than six months that the original tenant's now husband moved in, and since then there hadn't been one week without some sort of verbal domestic. To date, she committed 37 instances to memory, knowing that one day that evidence would be useful in court.

Rolling her eyes, Nicola abandoned her post after noticing the volume of the argument rise steadily from behind the door. Though the police had been called to the apartment a few times before, the arguments always remained verbal, and there was never any intent to harm from either of the couple. The couple usually reconciled with a few hours anyway.

Discontent with the absence of milk for her tea, Nicola trudged back to her apartment. Closing the door with her heel, she waded through her living room. The piles of dated newspaper articles, opened letters and tiny trinkets from previous cases created a staggered obstacle course for Nicola to conquer and arrive at the window. She threw both elbows on the living room windowsill and stared through the grimy glass. The radio hummed quietly from the tiny kitchen as Nicolas attention sprang from one stranger to another.

The apartment was suddenly consumed by the unsettling noise of constant vibrations on a linoleum surface. Had it not been for the charger anchoring the iPhone to the tiled wall, Nicolas phone would have fallen to it's doom. The phone itself was already in a poor enough condition without having to test it's existing durability against a wooden floor.

It grabbed her attention, and she sauntered over to the counter to check the message. Smiling briefly then locking her phone, she lay it down, and assumed a seat at the kitchen table. Pulling this morning's newspaper towards her, she began to read the headlines.

Before she'd opened the first page, another long vibration moved the phone again. Nicola glanced in that direction but continued to page 5, where there had been a report on drug crime in Columbia she'd been looking forward to. Engrossed in the article, she hadn't noticed the four subsequent notifications that disrupted the serenity of the silence.

After the fifth, she was unable to resist the curious itch. With a hopeful sigh, she set down the newspaper, and without leaving her seat reached over to the counter and pulled the phone from the charger. Even before unlocking the phone, a smile crept across Nicolas face at the promise of something interesting to occupy her for the foreseeable future.

The first message received read:

Body found this morning. Killed last night, dumped at Dun Laoghaire station. Interesting one, think you'll like it. Message me when you're on way. Will have pass ready.

This prompted an onslaught of uncontrollable grinning, as Nicola found herself excited by the prospect of murder. Having told her sister of her involvement in a diplomatic case regarding the Irish Embassy in Russia, she presented strict instructions that under no circumstances should she be contacted.

Nicola entertained two explanations for these texts. Her sister considered the case so important, ranking higher than international relations, that she had to ignore instruction and send word immediately. This was what Nicola was hoping for. The explanation Nicola knew was more likely, however, is that her sister simply forgot her instructions.

Unwilling to tell Amanda that the very important case was actually hinged on a primary witness who was blind drunk at the time of the robbery, and most of the stolen property was actually recovered by the time Nicola had reached the airport, she continued the illusion of being in Russia.

Not responding straight away, Nicola decided to wait 24 hours before meeting with her sister. Within that time, she afforded herself the opportunity to visit the crime scene during off-peak hours.

Stocking her coat pockets with a new packet of cigarettes and her purse, she sent her dressing gown through the air towards the two seater by the back wall. After suiting up, she grabbed her phone and a small black notebook that usually sat on the mantelpiece of the dormant fireplace.

In the hall, the bedlam of the domestic behind the wooden door had ceased, and Nicola darted down the stairs before it could conclude the way it usually did.

At the bottom of the stairs Ms. Norbury had just emerged from her own one bedroom apartment holding a full bin liner in one hand, and propping a phone to her ear in another. Determined to make the most of the occupied landlord, Nicola increased her walking pace towards the door, and straightened her coat collar as if to shield her from any possible interaction.

It was working, until her hand was interrupted when stretching out for the latch on the front door.

"Nicola?" a shrill voice called from behind her followed by a quiet beep from the phone as the call ended.

As if suddenly placed under arrest, and knowing her time to flee had been and gone, Nicola turned slowly on her heels having quickly cussed beneath her breath. Flashing a painful smile towards her landlord, she then waited silently for whatever ailment she was to be burdened with this time.

It was an unwritten condition within the lease that Nicola would offer her intellectual superiority whenever Ms. Norbury had found herself in a situation that required extensive brainwork. Much like her tenant, Ms. Norbury controlled a niche area in her particular profession. In this case it was buying and selling a particular type of real estate. Properties associated with violent crimes and criminal activities sold for next to nothing at auction, so in return for a sizable discount on rent, Nicola would vindicate their reputation by revealing the truth behind whatever was alleged to have happened there.

"Nicola, I just wanted to talk to you for a second." she announced, dropping the bin bag and pulling off her rubber gloves on finger at a time as she moved forward.

Nicola waited with her hands in her pockets, toying with the box of cigarettes.

"It's about the rent." she began.

"I gave the money to Daniel." Nicola interrupted.

"What?"

"It's not my fault if he forgot. I did you warn him about the side effects of taking Xanax with dope." Nicola sighed.

"They're prescription" Ms. Norbury insisted, flustered by the accusations, "My son is not on drugs."

"Really?" she asked sarcastically, annoyed that more than once had they had this conversation, and it always resulted in the landlady ignoring her advice. "Maybe you should keep better tabs on your purse and ask where your son goes at 1 am every weeknight- On second thoughts, maybe not. What good is an answer from a pathological liar anyway?"

Even though she knew herself everything that was said was true, she fought hard with her conscience to first reject it, then failing that to justify it. After the half minute she spent entertaining her internal thought process, however limited Nicola believed it to be, she returned to the conversation.

"I did get the rent" she asserted, concentrating hard on her composure, "But that's not what I'm talking about. I've had to increase the rent."

Nicolas immediate thought's after hearing this turned to Amanda.

"Since Arnold's lost his job, we've been really struggling. I'm not buying properties anymore, so the profit from that is gone. I need to put the rent up to stay here." she concluded.

"By how much?" Nicola asked quietly, already determining how much she could ask to borrow from her sister before verging on ridiculous.

"300. You'd still be paying below the average for a two bed flat, but that was the lowest I could go to cover the mortgage on this place."

The figure hit Nicola hard. Almost instantly did she disregard Amanda, accepting it was too high a sum to ask for.

Silence hung delicately in the air, as both women remained unwavering in their places. Ms. Norbury then began to hold her hands, and knot her fingers together anxiously. Though she could have found tenants who were quieter, friendlier, and perhaps a little more human than Nicola, the hassle of moving out one tenant and moving in another over a couple of months was something Ms. Norbury could have done without given her nervous disposition.

"You could get a flatmate to split the cost? Be much cheaper then." she suggested hopefully.

At this time Ms. Norbury was thinking more about the easiest way of implementing the increase within a realistic but hurried time frame. She had not afforded any thought to the difficulty in finding someone who would tolerate Nicola in close proximity on a daily basis. The limited pool of people looking for a flatshare in the city was almost diminished after applying including the only constant.

Nicola scoffed at the idea of living with a complete stranger, and could not imagine any other situation than living with herself.

"I'll sort something." she concluded, before sniffing deeply and disappearing out the front door.