𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 ❨ ransom drysdale ❩

𝟏. 𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲

I will be here...

When you think you're
all alone
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓

GRIEF. IT FEELS LIKE AN EMPTINESS IN YOUR HEART. A shear of nothingness that somehow takes over and holds your soul and threatens to kill you entirely. It gives you this heavy feeling that’s like the weight of the world is resting on your shoulders and there is nothing you can do to get out from under it. It's like this hole in your heart that is the shape of the one you lost and that makes you feel the need to wipe away any non-existent tears that you want to form but can’t.

Katerina could feel it as she sat in her car outside the Thrombey mansion. The emptiness in her heart, the numbness pounding her brain. She was not as close with Harlan as her sister Marta. However, after finishing with Mrs Drysdale she would often go to see her sister and Harlon while she waited to drive her home.

Harlan. The old man had a fringe of grey-white hair around his balding, mottled scalp. He had a wizened face and a back slightly hunched. With each movement there was the creak of old bones, but he was good. A good man, who was kind to her and her sister.

Marta was disappointed when her sister could not attend the man's funeral with her, but understood she had other commitments and went with the rest of the family.

Turning off her car, she turned opening the door before grabbing her bag. Her eyes then fell onto the house before her.

The house looked like no other other in the district, grand with red brick and a peaked roof of slate. In the daylight its state was more apparent. The bricks were of another era, not solid red like the others but swirled with other hues giving the two storey dwelling a mottled look. The window frames were not the ubiquitous plastic of the estate not far away, but wooden with large flakes of green paint lying like dandruff.

Finally, her eyes fell to the door of the mansion where Linda Drysdale stood. She examined the woman wondering how to approach her at such a time.

"Katerina..." Linda sighed as Katerina walked towards the entrance of the house.

Mrs Drysdale had a kind of brutal honesty that tested most friendships, but Katerina appreciated it. She always knew where she stood with her.

"I'm so sorry Linda."

"We can only understand he's in a better place now. It's a pity you couldn't make it to the funeral, I know Harlan would have wanted you there." A heavy silence settled over them, thicker then the uneasy tension in the atmosphere. Katerinas unsettled eyes glanced unceremoniously around and tried to avoid catching the glances of the woman beside her. "How's you sister handling everything?"

"She's alright," Katerina murmured. "She's still pretty shaken up."

Truth be told Marta wasn't fine. She didn't talk much anymore, either. She gradually became more reserved, distancing herself from others, fumbling for her words. It was as if she was afraid to utter a word. As if doing so would lead to punishment.

"Come on in, out of the cold."

As she walked along the ancient floorboards she admired the house, as she always did. Walls lined with dark oak panels the ceiling lined with massive wooden beams. However, her eyes were soon distracted with the sight of two men, or rather three. One hidden, better adapted to hiding in the shadows.

A delicious shiver ran down her spine, like a bolt of electricity. "Who the hell are you?"

Thin lips curved into a sly smirk and equally thin eyes crinkled at the edges. The pupils of the strange man constricted and widened. "You must be Katerina Cabrera."

She was taller than expected, her hair a far deeper brown, nearly black; her eyes an unromantic shade of hazel. She was confident in her movements, and her smile, when it unfurled, was less endearing than mischievous.

She smirked, turning to gaze at the family in the living room who were pretending as if they payed no attention to the conversation. "You guess correct."

"I'm Detective Benoit Blanc."

"It's a pleasure." She spoke, before shaking the hand that was outstretched to her. "Can I ask why you're here detective?"

"Detective Lieutenant Elliot, Mr Wagner and myself would like to ask the family a few questions regarding Harlan Thrombeys death."

If he had every known failure in his life, it didn't show. Everything from the way he held himself, to the way he spoke, to that look of unassailable confidence in his eyes that made Katerina feel as if he knew something she didn't.

"Well then I'll just speak to Mrs Drysdale and get out of your way."

However, as she turned in the direction of the living room, she was stopped by Detective Blanc's voice.

"Actually, Miss Cabrera. I would prefer it if you remain with the family for the time being."

For a half second, they both stood there, staring at eachother. She was assessing him as though he was competion, or prey, and he simply watched her. Curious.

Katerina squinted at him through hardened eyes that had frozen over like the surface of a winter puddle, robbing them of their warmth. "Can I ask why?"

It was her eyes that captivated him most of all though. They were round and framed by thick long lashes. People say the eyes are windows. Well, he could see through hers. He could see the trepidation. The anxiety within her soul.

"I'll speak with you soon Miss Cabrera."

In that moment her eyes were giving a glare that was could freeze the detectives bones, like being nude in the middle of a hailstorm, where every chunk of ice was a frosted dagger cutting into his skin. They couldn't find out.

Nobody could.