Summary: Ruby Irene Porter will do anything to get to the bottom of her brother’s death. Unfortunately for her, she has to meddle with the affairs of a gang and said gang’s not-too-nice leader. Oh man.

Maxwell James Porter was dead. (So much for twenty-one being invincible.)

He became nothing more than rotting flesh and a good story for the media. It was the perfect opportunity for the town’s folk to milk Max’s death for all that it was worth, and it was the perfect opportunity for them to decide what had led to my brother’s unfortunate and abrupt fate.

Mr. And Mrs. Cranford, an elderly, old-fashioned couple from across the street had insisted that it was Max’s mouth. There was a point in time where I would have agreed, right until the bitter end, but Max knew when it was time to call it quits. Unfortunately, when someone as influential and respectable as the Cranford’s made an accusation, everyone else was quick to jump on the bandwagon.

I was skeptical that his mouth had led to such unfortunate circumstances. There had to be more to it than that, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever find out what led to his death. The Coroner, Dr. Richard Lowell, was never able to confirm the cause of death. Max’s case even reached the Bedford County Sheriff where it was marked as suspicious and left an open case.

Maybe they preferred to keep it hush-hush. Or maybe they had been offered a hefty reward not to say anything. Either way, I wanted to know the truth, and all that anyone seemed to know was that Max had entangled himself into the world of a gang—turning himself into said gang leader’s right hand man.

And the leader of that gang? It was none other than cocky, mysterious Jude Carlson. Besides his looks and his place of resident, no one knew a thing about him. Not even me—which made it harder to push Max’s death onto him. (But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t try.)

Jude wasn’t an easy guy to target or accuse. Anything floating through gossip about that boy was purely speculation and exaggerated rumors.

No one knew anything about him. Not even me. (And God, I hated not knowing.)

He had the advantage in the palm of his hand. Jude treated that as a golden opportunity to infuse fear into any weak soul that dared to cross paths with him. And if people weren’t convinced by his dangerous, low tone, they knew it by the weapons he carried.

But, above all, Jude lacked any kind of compassion, making him one miserable and cruel son of a bitch.

It was no wonder that I was sideswiped by his presence at my brother’s funeral.

He hung a hundred feet back, shadowed beneath a large, weeping willow tree. I didn’t needed to look to know that he was there—because the air held a kind of bitterness that seemed to match him as he chain-smoked, staring at the casket emotionlessly.

I wasn’t surprised. Jude always lurched in the shadows, paying respects when they were due. I thought that it was admirable he came, but not if my brother’s life had been in his hands.

In all the years I knew Jude, I had only spoken a handful of words to him. I wasn’t sure how much his words would mean, but with Doctor Lowell incapable of giving me the closure I needed, I would settle for interrogating Jude. I’d do almost anything for him to spill the truth.

All I had to go off my brother’s death was that he had three shallow stab wounds in the back that missed his spine by millimeters. There was heavy bruising around his neck, indicating that he had been strangled with a lot of force. His body was covered in a combination of cuts, bruises, and burns—all of which were serious enough that Lowell was unable to indicate how Max had died.

But I didn’t believe that.

I nudged one of my closest friends with my tense shoulder. “Riley,” I whispered, lowering my voice to ensure that no one heard me, “can you believe that Jude had the nerve to show up?”

Jude was adamant about upholding a certain kind of reputation; that seemed to be the only thing he gave a damn about. Maybe he liked the edge. Maybe he got a thrill out of how he could terrify someone with non-blinking eye contact. Normal people, or just people with half a mind, didn’t want to be remembered for being terrible, but Jude was probably the furthest person from normal.

But as much as I couldn’t define normal, I knew that he wasn’t normal. No, he was obviously reclusive and a social-phobic. They way he stood under that tree—so far away from everything else. Or maybe it was just him rebelling, not wanting to tarnish his reputation. But it all boiled down to one thing: Jude was an enigma, and no matter what I heard or thought, I knew nothing about him—besides gossip and poorly constructed speculation.

No matter where he went, he left splinters of his gang everywhere. Just uttering his name sent many people into a quivering stupor. Anyone who cared about personal safety didn’t mess with Jude or question his decisions—

Until today.

Until me.

Riley spun around from her statue-like pose. Her eyes were outlined in thick mascara. A mixture of her tears and rain made it run down her cheeks.

“This is probably the wimpiest thing he’s ever done, leaving your brother for dead. Some kind of leader he is,” she muttered lowly. “But it’s not like we know the true story. That ass refuses to say a single word—when he owes a lot more than that to Max.”

My eyes mirrored a mixture of sorrow and anger—much like Riley’s. While talking about Max was okay to her, it wasn’t to me. I didn’t want to think of him as dead or even pale. I didn’t want to think of him at all because thinking hurt worse. (And it hurt so much that I didn't want to hurt anymore.)

“I know, but he’s selfish, Ri. He’s so selfish that it makes me want to strangle him.”

Riley never particularly liked Jude. But maybe she was jealous that he got all of Max’s attention. Riley and Max dated from junior high up. They had been in love, a deep, envious kind. What they had was rare—some kind of special. But now that he was gone, I knew that Riley would never be the same.

Our friendship didn’t go back to pre-school. We only met two months after my brother and Riley were dating—during a family dinner; we grew close fast—to the point that the three of us hung out together all the time. I had never been particularly close to Max, but Riley had brought us together, and that meant a lot to me.

But with the love of her life gone, she didn’t have any reasons to stay in a place like Bedford. Nothing was holding her back. I imagined that one day she’d up and leave—in hopes of starting over.

Reaching forward, I grabbed a hold of Riley’s arm, dragging her away from the crowd. Once we were out of earshot, I spoke sharply. “So, when are you leaving?”

She pulled out of my grasp, taking a step backwards. “Oh Ruby. Leaving? Why would I be leaving?”

I knew that she was playing dumb on purpose, and it hurt. She was going to drag it out of me, and I kind of resented her for that. We were best friends, and above all, she knew my limits. Why was she pushing so hard?

I choked back a sob, but it was useless. It escaped and Riley gave me a pitying look. For a second, regret appeared in her eyes, but it flickered away just as quickly as it came.

“Because,” I began lowly, “Max is d-dead.” My nails dug so tightly into my skin that tiny crescent imprints were left behind, red and deep. I didn’t believe it, not even as I spoke the words for the very first time. “And now that he’s gone, you don’t have anything to hold you back.”

“Ruby,” Riley murmured, wrapping her arms tightly around me. “I’m your best friend. And I’m not going anywhere. Why would I leave when the going got tough?”

“I don’t know,” I stumbled over my words. “But I need time to sort things out.”

Riley nodded, just like an understanding friend did. “I understand,” she murmured convincingly. “Maybe we both need time.”

I turned, taking a slow, painful walk up the hill; I felt a pair of eyes focused on the back of my neck, but I didn’t dare to turn around. There was only person who could make me feel that uncomfortable and his name was Jude.

“Watch your back, Ruby. I don’t trust Jude for one second.”

Slightly winded, I stopped, waving my hand into the air. The tingles on the back of my neck stopped, and with relief, I took large strides towards my car; the truth of the matter was that I couldn’t stare at that casket anymore—knowing that Max was lifelessly lying inside, pale and slowly beginning to decay.

Jude Carlson was going to tell me what happened to Max.

I wasn’t going to stop until he did.

So, I'm temporarily back. This has been hanging on my hard drive for a while, so I thought I'd share it. It isn't as good as my usual writing. But at least it signifies that I haven't abandoned the site. But, at the same time, I can't guarantee where this is going. I only have a few chapters mapped out. But review if you'd like. You aren't obligated in any way, but if you have the time to spare, I would infinately appreciate you.

P.S. I'm rewriting I'd Rather You Didn't. When that gets underway, there will be a huge explanation about my disappearance and my sporadic, bad updates. I'm sorry for keeping every single one of you hanging.

Faded Soulfire