6 Coffee Brown

I sat back in my seat, watching the world go by outside the little glass window that faced the street. Our town was usually heavy with bustle, but I barely saw few stragglers walk by, looking like they had the weight of the world on their shoulders.

I guess everyone feels that way, huh?

"Here."

I looked up, and Ruth handed me the milkshake she'd ordered from the counter. She took the seat across from me, setting her coffee down on the table.

"Thanks," I replied.

After school, Ruth had texted me to come straight to this cafe, a little out of the way from the centre of town. School kids weren't likely to come here, and I only saw older people who had work around here sip slowly on their drinks. She didn't want any of our friends knowing we were meeting up, or even talking, so she suggested this would be the best place.

Her behaviour was too secretive, too calculated. It was odd.

"So, what is it?" I got straight to the point.

"It's a little complicated," she started, sounding unsure.

"We've got a lot of time."

So she began.

For a short while, I thought she was being dramatic by bringing me here with her, but I should've known that's not something Ruth would do. Out of all the things I expected her to tell me, murder definitely wasn't on the list.

"You think he...?" I couldn't say it. The idea itself was making me feel sick.

"I'm not saying he did anything," she was quick to clarify. "I'm just saying, the way that man died was very odd."

I took a deep breath, trying to process what I'd heard in the past five minutes. I couldn't. It didn't make any sense.

"What makes you think Ian had anything to do with it?" I asked, needing some proof for another baseless claim. People seemed to like doing this a lot. Blaming others for the fun of it.

"Dad told me he can't say anything since it was never made public. Why it wasn't, I'm not sure of. Neither do I know what exactly happened that night, or why my dad thinks there was foul play, but you know him. His instincts are always right."

She wasn't wrong. Her dad lead one of the best police departments in town and he was pretty damn good at his job. I knew firsthand from when he helped me with the school fire incident. I trusted him fully, and yet, I didn't believe what Ruth said.

"I'm glad you told me, but you know I can't just-"

She sighed, "Look, I just don't want you getting hurt again." Her eyes stayed on mine for a while, debating something. I stayed quiet as she did. "Okay, I'll try getting some information from my dad. Don't fall too hard for the guy in the meantime."

I know we were having a serious conversation, but I felt the blood rush up to my cheeks. "I'm not falling for anyone."

She only smiled.

*

I got home to the sound of my parents screaming at the top of their lungs, Scarlet nowhere in sight. No one heard me as I entered the house, so I ignored the noise and sat on the living room couch, sending her a text asking her where she is.

'They were driving me crazy. I'm having dinner out,' she replied.

I sighed, laying my head back and listening in on their conversation. It was difficult not to.

"It's because you didn't listen to me!"

"You're always talking shit, that's why!"

"Fucking bastard, what did you just say?"

"Don't call me that, you bitch!"

I sighed again, lifting myself off the couch, deciding it's probably best if I left too. I took to the street, walking towards the central part of the town, hoping I'd find some calm in the bustling shopping district.

I didn't want to be at home. My parents were always at each others throat for no apparent reason. Actually... no.

I was probably the reason.

I think it started when I was 9. My first complaint from school came in, and my father picked up the call. It was one of those rare days he was actually home. I'd thrown a book at some girl or something along those lines, and they were called to the school. I was showing violent tendencies the teacher said, and they looked at me like I was a psychopath, even though in truth, that girl threw her book at me first. No one liked me, not even then. All she had to do was cry a little and everyone believed her.

As long as you played the victim, people would buy your story, because they would rather believe you're being honest than face the truth that people lie. All the time.

My parents bought her story too, over their own daughter. They blamed each other for how my upbringing, like only the other was responsible for it. The fight went on for days, and they'd tell me to leave when I intervened. The thought that I couldn't do it didn't even cross their mind. It's probably because they didn't know me very well.

I guess no one really did.

"Violet?"

"Huh?" I turned my head in the direction of his voice, coming face to face with a blonde girl with pink streaks and a lip ring, her eyebrow raised in question.

Behind her though, was Ian, who was waving at me. I instantly smiled on seeing him, walking over.

"What're you doing here?" he asked.

"Taking a walk," I simply said, not bothering to elaborate. Not like it's something I could tell him anyway.

"You?" I noticed the shopping bag he was carrying. "Groceries?"

"Well, I still have some stuff left to get."

I looked at him, biting my lip in thought. After what Ruth had told me earlier that day, I didn't know if this was a good idea. But I felt like I deserved a distraction.

"Mind if I join you?"