Ezekiel Johnson's Story

Honestly, Hatch was surprised it had taken her housemates a full two weeks to throw a party. She’d been in desperate need of a release, and she’d been around for a week longer than most of them. But then again, she reminded herself, her housemates seemed to have a slightly better relationship with their families than Hatch did. Classes had only been back a week, and that was probably the most stressful thing most of them wanted to escape.

Hatch had left it until the last minute to leave to go home, and she’d come back as soon as possible. And even then, the few weeks she’d been home had been insufferable. Her oldest brother had announced his engagement, which had just resulted in more boring parties with her parents, where she was expected to drink wine and make polite conversation and wear a dress that made her look like every other businessman’s trophy daughter. Her father’s latest attempt at setting her up with some nice businessman’s son had backfired, even if the conversation had lasted a full ten minutes longer than usual. Her parents had spent the time they weren’t gushing about her brother and how wonderful this was for the family making strained conversation with Hatch about college. Her mother had brought her shopping, which had been an ill-fated attempt at converting Hatch to a more “appropriate” style of dressing. Hatch had, at least, gotten some new shirts out of it.

So when her housemates had suggested a party, Hatch had nearly fainted with relief. She’d gotten the word out among her friends and had even helped decorate a bit. They’d told everyone to bring their own drinks, but still had a ready stash of spirits and mixers, just in case, and had plenty of food to go around. They knew nobody was coming for the food, but also knew that it would be appreciated. Especially by whatever dumb freshmen would probably show up on an empty stomach. It always happened.

But It almost seemed like everybody had forgotten the events that had gone down shortly before Christmas. It seemed to just be another one of those events that was hot on everybody’s lips for a few weeks before fading into legend. Of course, a student being found dead on campus seemed to deserve a slightly more prominent place in everyone’s mind. Especially when it was clear they were murdered. The police were still around, asking questions, and there was a much tighter security presence on campus after dark. But if they hadn’t gotten the answers they needed before Christmas, they more than likely weren’t going to get the answers they wanted now, and the event had turned into a source of gossip.

“I heard he was in trouble with a gang,” one of Hatch’s roommates declared from where she lay on Hatch’s bed. Hatch raised an eyebrow, glancing at Lotta. “Drugs, guns, the whole thing.”
“I heard it was a cult.” Francis appeared from nowhere at Hatch’s door.
“A cult, Francie? Really?” Hatch laughed, leaning in to finish applying her lipstick.
“Yeah. Satanists.”
“Pretty sure his death wasn’t ritualistic enough for it to be a cult,” Lottie remarked.
“He pissed them off and they snapped. James says a senior approached him and tried to talk him into going to some service and then when he refused, the guy got really pissed off. He definitely seemed capable of murder.”
“Or, you know, it was just a mugging,” Hatch remarked, raising an eyebrow and turning around to face them and taking a sip from her Jack and Coke. “Sometimes things are just painfully ordinary and boring.”

Ordinary and boring. Two things Hatch was determined to never be. Her dress was another present from her mother. It had been pointedly laid out for her before one of the many parties she’d been forced to attend, and was one of very few outfits that her mother picked out for her that Hatch actually liked. However, Hatch took comfort in the fact that she was pretty sure her mother wouldn’t have liked her shoes or her makeup, and relished that.

Even though the party was in her own apartment, Hatch waited until it sounded like there were plenty of people there before making her appearance. Looking like she’d been waiting for everyone else would just make her look desperate, so she waltzed out of her bedroom and scanned the party with a raised eyebrow. It seemed that everyone else had been as excited for the party as they had been. She made her way over to the kitchen to pour herself another Jack and Coke (heavy on the whiskey, of course), where she positioned herself to continue scanning the room and either find a familiar face or someone who at least looked interesting.