The entirety of April has been dedicated to figuring out how the Pen works.

Once I deduced that it was the Pen that was what caused the murders, I then had to figure out it’s perimeters.

With Hayes and Lukas, I wrote a determining factor of death. The only conclusion after that was to figure out if the Pen would kill someone without a determining factor of death. That’s how I came across Harris. He wasn’t a particularly good person, in fact he had been sentenced in prison for thirty years after committing several murders in the towns surrounding Oakside city. I figured people wouldn’t miss him if he died. It seems there is a bit of randomness with the Pen.

If I don’t write the determining factor of death, it seems that the factor of death is any nearest logical accident. With Harris, he fell off the rail of the second floor of his cell, and broke his neck. For Morrison, he got hit by a car, getting crushed on impact. I attempted with the Pen with names that I didn’t have a picture of, and it seems I can’t kill anyone I haven’t seen before. Which limits my pool. Since not every person is released on the internet with a picture. I’ll have to find a way to get better information. Someone who might be able to give me better resources.

But I am just a teenager, how would I get resources like that? Maybe - Mom’s a secretary for a law firm, she’s not a lawyer, but maybe I can use that as a way to gather resources. Mom has a friend there, I’ve only met her a few times. Maybe she can be my backdoor into gathering information. She comes off like a jaded woman, Cassandra that is. I think years of not feeling like she has made much of an impact has worn on her.

There is a knock on the door. Mom.

“Sorry for not helping with dinner,” I announce, “I was finishing up homework.”

“You don’t need to help with dinner if you’re busy with other things,” Mom reassures, “I was just making sure that you were okay.”

Should I tempt it?

“Could I go to your work?” I ask her.

“What for, don’t tell me you’re interested in doing your Mom’s job,” she jokes while I get up from my desk.

“Would you be mad if I wanted to be a lawyer?” I ask her.

“I would rather you want to be a lawyer than to take someone’s calls for them,” Mom smiles, “We can attempt for Saturday. I am sure they won’t mind, but try not to bother anyone.”

“I’ll be as quiet as a mouse,” I tell her, “Just because you’re not a lawyer, I still admire you.”

“You’re very sweet, hun,” she retorts while walking back to the dining table, she’s made some premade ravioli, frozen, that she heated up in a butter sauce.

“This looks really fancy,” I tell her.

“Please, it’s packaged ravioli, the only thing I made was the sauce,” Mom sits down, “Do you think you’re going to bring that friend over?”

Well he’s not really a friend. Charles has been avoiding me at school. Which is a shame because I really liked Charles. I think he’s overreacted a little bit to Bob, but he won’t really talk about it. I might try again tomorrow.

“I will talk to him tomorrow,”

“That’s good, you know that I hope you have a lot of friends,”

“Yes, but it’s okay if I don’t, right?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to imply,” Mom pauses, “Sorry. I just want to see some kids your age around.”

“You know a lot of them find me weird,”

“I know, it’s a shame, because they don’t see your brightness,”

“I think they do,”

“That’s probably true,”

“I try to be a good person-

-I’m sure they appreciate it-

-I think Charles really did appreciate it, I just don’t think, they know me well enough beyond the quiet kid and assume who I am through that,”

Mom smiles, “You know you remind me of your Dad sometimes?”

Swirling a ravioli in sauce on the plate, “Do you miss him?” I ask, looking over at his urn on the bookcase.

“You know sweetie,” Mom pauses, “I miss the man I fell in love with. I don’t miss the man who died.”

“I am sorry he became so cold to you,”

“I am sorry you had to be witness to it,”

“I’m just sorry that he hurt you,”

I wish there had been more I could have done. Besides -

“He hurt you too,”

“Yes, but you were with him in a deep way,”

She just watches me, “That’s true. I am sorry either way. At least maybe you can carry on what good qualities he had.”