Young Writers Society

~1161

Slightly off-put by Markus, Kerra climbed up the stairs. She tried to shake off what he’d said. It sounded like Shandi had really blown Ruth’s treatment of her out of proportion… but yet, Ruth had apparently called her before Shandi had left. Kerra didn’t know what kinds of things her mother might have said. And while she’d seemed calm on the outside when Kerra had told her Shandi was leaving, Kerra did think she’d heard a vase crashing or something. Maybe behind the kind, reserved face that Ruth always showed to Kerra was an emotionally unstable person.

Or maybe Shandi had just been exaggerating everything for drama. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d done it. Shandi had a flair for the dramatic, which was a two-edged sword. It made her charismatic and fun to be around, but if her anger was directed at you, it made everything twice as bad.

Kerra shook her head, trying to clear it of negative thoughts of Shandi. She was at a celebration for Shandi’s life after all. She’d reached the floor above the one she’d entered into. No Name, Angelface, the Grin, and Blast Boy were gathered around a pool table lined with black velvet. There were only about five balls still on the table, and they were all solid colors. Angelface and the Grin were holding the pool cues. Kerra watched as Angelface lined up a shot and expertly sunk the eight ball. 

“Good game, Grin,” she said, offering her hand. “You got a lot more in this time!”

Grin reluctantly shook her hand, the mobile half of his mouth pulled down into a moody scowl. “I still only got three in.”

“Better’n many,” Angel chirped. “We could make it three out of five, if you want.” The Grin’s scowl deepened.

“Kerra!” Blast Boy yelled, running over to her. “You’re here!” As usual, Blast Boy’s hair stood on end, and their face looked scuffed and dirty, though today it looked as if they’d cleaned up a little more than usual.

Kerra smiled. “I am! And you’re all here too! I’m glad. I don’t know anyone else here.”

“I could introduce you!” Blast Boy said, jumping a little.

“Uh, that’s alright. I met your boss already. Markus. I don’t know if I’m up to meeting anyone else yet.”

“Markus is an odd duck,” the Grin said mysteriously. “He’s got some interesting moods. And meeting him for the first time when he’s… well, a bit trashed, if I’m honest, must be an experience.”

“It was,” Kerra agreed.

“He really cared about her,” No Name said quietly. “I mean, there were rumors–”

“Not something to get into right now. It’s a bit of a private matter, don’t you think?” Angelface snapped.

No Name quickly shut their mouth and looked down at the ground.

She sighed. “Sorry, Nonnie, I didn’t mean it. You know how it is.” 

No Name nodded but continued to stare at the floor.

Kerra looked a little closer at Angelface and saw that the dark circles under her eyes were even more prominent than usual, and the whites of her eyes were tinged red as if she’d been crying for days. “You doing okay?” she asked gently.

Angelface shifted. “It’s been rough on all of us,” she said defensively, “but I was wondering something.”

“Oh?” Kerra asked.

“Do you play pool as well as Shandi did? Since she… left… I’ve had no competition! These idiots are about as skilled as a piece of wet corkboard.”

“Hey!” the Grin protested. “I got three in!”

“And you’ve never played against No Name,” Blast Boy added gleefully.

“Not for lack of trying,” Angelface muttered. “But what do you say, Kerra? How are you at pool?”

“Awful,” Kerra admitted. “I can’t count on one hand the number of times I’ve played. I find it just doesn’t suit me.

“Do you want one of us to coach you?” The Grin asked dubiously. “I don’t think any of us would do a very good job, and I don’t know if Angelface would stoop that low today.”

“You’re right about that,” Angelface said, tossing her limp blonde hair over her shoulder. “Today I play pool for one reason, and one reason only: to thrash all competitors.” She grinned like a maniac.

“That’s alright. I think I’d rather just watch. I think I like No Name’s strategy. If no one sees me play, then my skills remain a mystery, and who knows? Maybe I’m actually amazing. But I don’t want to put that to the test today.”

So Kerra spent the rest of the evening watching Angelface handily beat every comer. Numbers stopped by a few times, to make sure the party was going alright. One time he even agreed to play against Angelface, and she barely beat him. He went back downstairs looking a little smug after that. Angelface looked more satisfied and calm than she had all night, and Kerra guessed that she’d enjoyed the challenge. 

Eventually, the party started petering out a little, and Kerra found her eyes growing heavy. It was starting to become difficult to hold back yawns, and so she said her goodbyes to everyone she knew, thanked Numbers for his invitation and hospitality, and left. 

She took a longer route home than she would have usually taken, and her detour took her near Ruth’s sector. Kerra wondered if she’d wound up in the area because her subconsciousness was still disturbed by Markus’s ravings about her. It had been quite a while since she’d last talked to Ruth, and Kerra figured it would be good to check up on her. She was pretty sure that Ruth rarely left the apartment, and had little to no contact with anyone besides Kerra.

A bit of guilt suddenly stabbed through her. How lonely must Ruth be every day? And Kerra avoided her just because Ruth made her a little uncomfortable. She altered her course to take her to Ruth’s apartment. It was late to have guests over, but not late enough to be asleep yet. She knew her mother tended to get only a few hours of sleep every night anyway, and she would likely appreciate the company.

She finally got to the right door and knocked. Silence. She knocked again. Not a single sound from inside. She knocked harder this time. Could her mother really already be asleep? This early at night? Something felt off to Kerra. The door was locked tight. 

Kerra went up through the pillar’s floors to find the apartment manager’s office. The windows were dark, but when she knocked urgently on the door, a woman with a wrinkled face opened the door and peered out at Kerra through tired, squinting eyes. Kerra told her the situation, and the woman got a key card.

They went back down to Ruth’s apartment. The woman flashed the card at the scanner, the door popped open, and there she was.

Ruth, or what had been Ruth, laid out on the ground in a pool of her own blood, her neck brutally slashed open.