The Ruby Level

Though Penny hadn’t used it in weeks, the skillet was crusted with meat. As she scrubbed, yellow bits of sponge tumbled into the water. When she glanced to the window over the sink, a gasp tore from her chest as she met the eye of a buck. He was in profile, so close that a velvety antler nearly scraped the glass. He didn’t turn his head, though the black star of his pupil drifted, regarding her.

“Ruby?” Penny called. She was giving her little sister too much credit. Ruby was gone and deer weren’t uncommon. Still, it was unsettling to see one on the first anniversary. A breath later, the buck bounded away. A warm drop hit Penny’s bare foot.

She shut her eyes.

It’s not blood.

Water dripped from her fingertips. Suds slipped around her toes.

* * *

A year ago, Penny watched herself run from the bathroom, shrieking as red rivulets cut through her hair, to her face, to her expensive Brooklinen towel. She cringed at the cartoonish slip-and-slide on the hall rug, stomach squeezing at the final frame: face down, ass up. The censoring emoji only added to her humiliation.

Ruby wheezed with laughter. “I didn’t think dye and corn syrup in the shower head would get you but—”

“Delete it.”

“No way. It’s at half a million views.”

“Get rid of it!”

Ruby frowned. “Why can’t you be happy for me?”

“What if my clients see this?”

“You can’t stand that I’m pursuing my dreams while you’re an accountant.”

“Accounts manager.” Penny hated how her voice shook. “Tell me, what does TikTok pay you to post nasty pranks?”

“Jesus, Penny. Stop taking everything so seriously.”

* * *

Thunder crashed, rolling over the roof, causing Penny to jump from the couch. Her head throbbed, a migraine coming on; she needed water. In the kitchen, the scent of rotten eggs—no, sulfur—wafted in the air along with a fast, familiar ticking.

She dashed to the stove. All four burners were in the ignite position, spitting gas. She spun the knobs. Hesitated. What if the buck…?

Penny rushed to the window and forced her hands to push up the glass. No buck, no storm clouds. Nothing. Don’t be stupid.

But overhead, the bulb flickered like lightning, then popped.

Penny pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. This was Ruby’s doing.

An hour before bed, Penny doubled her dose of melatonin. Waiting for the tug of sleep, she opened her laptop. Netflix’s menu flickered; the suggested thumbnails reflected Ruby’s appetite. After Penny shared her login, her sister took over. Like always.

She clicked to the home screen, where two users’ icons appeared. A trickle of dread carved its way down her spine.

Ruby never created a profile.

“Stress,” Penny spoke the reassuring word aloud. She blinked, and re-checked the screen, relief filling her as she saw only her lone avatar, the default smirk.

* * *

“I know what you did,” Ruby said.

Penny glanced at her sister. Ruby stared ahead, watching the rain splatter the windshield.

Penny was too exhausted to fight. It was three in the morning. She’d already driven an hour to get Ruby, who’d refused to explain her emergency or accept an Uber.

“How could you?”

Penny gripped the wheel and peered out into the black, struggling to see past the pale beams of the headlights.

“You texted Ryan. Told him to leave me ’cause I was never gonna change.” Ruby shrilled that last part, an imitation of Penny.

“Oh. So, he broke up with you?” She swallowed the word finally. Ruby was a drama tsunami, flattening anyone in her path.

“No. I went through his phone.”

This was why Ruby had her navigating a forest road during a thunderstorm? Penny gritted her teeth. “Well, he didn’t take my advice. Why have me come get you?”

“You thought I’d let that slide? You’re jealous. You—”

Penny’s fingers twisted the volume knob, drowning out her sister.

“Lookout!” Ruby yelled, pointing out the windshield at a glowing orb.

Just ahead.

A deer.

A yellow eye.

* * *

Penny scrambled in bed, raking tear-matted hair from her face.

“It was dark. The road was slick. There wasn’t time to break.” The words rasped like a prayer.

She flipped on her phone, a friendly blue specter. “It was an accident. I didn’t kill Ruby. It was the buck.”

The phone read 3:06 AM. All her nightmares concluded at the same time: the time of the accident. Her body made a routine of terror.

A coincidence.

The phone vibrated. No one had called her at an unreasonable hour since that night.

It convulsed as Scam Likely flashed across the screen.

It was stupid to answer, but she needed someone. Anyone.

“Hello?”

“Good evening. I’m calling on behalf of the Sisters of Mercy.”

Penny’s lungs iced over.

“Will you pledge to help the sisters? We’re accepting donations at various price points. May I put you down for the diamond level, a one-time donation of $1,000? For that amount, we add your name to the prayer list and send a rosary decal.”

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

“Or perhaps the sapphire level of $100 is more in line with your financial ability? You won’t be eligible for a decal, but you’ll still be in the sisters’ prayers.”

“Please, you sound like my sister. She died last year. Ruby—”

“Oh, the Ruby level,” the voice purred. “Patrons who donate at the Ruby level no longer have nightmares.”

“Oh, god.” Penny pressed her hand against the words slipping from her lips like warm droplets. Her fingertips came away crimson.

“I’ll put you down for a one-time donation of your eternal companionship.”

The phone struck the hardwood floor, the shattered screen a mosaic of night-black glass. In each shard, a yellow eye.

* * *

Ⓒ L.L. Madrid