𝗺𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞
𝑗𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑗𝑖 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ | 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒

DECEMBER SEVENTEENTH, 1995 — PITTSBURGH, PENNSYLVANIA

(tw - mugging, death, drowning.)

RUE RIVERA couldn't look away from her hair, blue eyes going from the bathroom mirror to the dyed strands laying on her shoulders. Her hands were stained bright pink, thanks to the Manic Panic of the same color lying open on the sink.

Her hair had never been actually dyed before, only that crappy Kool-Aid dyes her and her old friends used to do as children. She could remember how quickly it faded, how mad her mom was, how freeing it felt to do something that she wanted.

A loud knocking interrupted her thoughts. She moved away from the sink, wiping her hands off on her jeans -- she knew they were clean, it was a habit she had gained over the years -- and opened it.

There stood ten-year-old Holly Rivera, her blonde hair braided in two dutch braids (very messily, obviously done by herself). it was often said that Holly was just the younger clone of Rue, with their mom's light blonde hair and blue eyes. They even had somewhat similar facial features, just like their mom.

"You've been in there for hours," Holly complained, crossing her arms and dramatically rolling her eyes, as she saw the popular girls on TV do. "What's so important that you take up my available bathroom time?"

"I don't know, Pipsqueak," her sister huffed at that nickname -- earned because the girl was very, very short, "take a look for yourself." Rue flicked pieces of her dyed hair over her shoulders, not caring that they stained her shirt.

Holly's eyes doubled in size and her jaw dropped. She stood in stunned silence, which was ended by a squeak. "Oh, my Gods! You didn't!"

Rue frowned, not liking her new taste in exclamation. She wasn't some religious freak or anything, but she wasn't sure why, after a single summer spent at a camp her absent father somehow managed to get her into, she gained a whole bucket load of different expressions.

Was it a cult or something?

She shrugged that thought away, distantly remembering Holly's dad, Fred, from his relationship with her mom. They were together for a few months, but as soon as her mom got knocked-up, he dipped. Anger burned in the bottom of her stomach just thinking about it.

She also ignored the memories of him staring at her like he knew something she didn't. Fred was the first one to call her Rue (deprived of her dead name, which also started with an R) and treated it like a big thing, making sure to only call her Rue.

None of that mattered now.

"Oh, I so did." Wiggling her eyebrows, Rue pointed behind her to the container of Manic Panic, which earned a loud gasp.

"Do mine, Rue! Please? Please, please, please?"

She laughed, patting Holly on her head, ignoring the glare she received in response, "No way. Mom and Jerry would murder me, pipsqueak."

Exiting the bathroom to allow Holly to do whatever she wanted (and giving her one final warning of don't you dare touch that hair-dye) she walked into the living room, nose scrunching up at the stench of cigarette smoke and stale alcohol.

"Jerry," she nodded at him in a hello, noting that he was watching another one of his documentaries on TV. Jared Daniels, or Jerry, was her mom's fiance. He wasn't a bad guy, treated the two pretty well, worked, obviously loved her mom. He just smoked a lot, and made it clear that the fact that Rue went by Rue made no sense to him. At least he called her a girl.

"Kid number one," he greeted, not looking away from the TV, which was talking about the disappearance of Allison Phillips, who had gone missing about 54 years ago. It was apparently a big deal back then, and there were still some people today trying to figure it out. Rue didn't care about some probably-dead teenager.

"I dyed my hair."

A quick glance her way earned her a nod, "Looks nice, pink's really your color. You need money for the movies?"

"Oh, yeah," Holly entered the bathroom, hair and hands free of color, meaning she took Rue's warning to heart. The two were going to walk to the movie theatre, since it wasn't that far, to see the new Jumanji movie. "How much you willing to cough up?"

Jerry laughed, passing her a twenty-dollar bill and a few ones, "Don't buy too much candy, girls," he warned, brown eyes fluttering back to the documentary. "Have fun. Tell me if the story's good or not, might take your mom."

"Alright," she handed Holly her jacket, and slipped on her own jean one. Shoving her hands into the pockets, she clutched her hand around the pocket knife, well aware that muggings were common.

+

The movie was good.

The two were walking home now, the sun slowly setting in the background as they walked. It was one of those movie moments that would have been really cool to watch, but sucked to live through, because it was freezing.

Rue looked over the railings of where they walked, starring into the dark color of the Alleghany River. It wasn't completely frozen yet, as this winter had been a bit warmer, so instead ice chunks were just floating through the water.

"Rue," she looked towards Holly, who was staring further down the pathway, where she could faintly make out two figures. She clutched her hand around the pocket knife, and stepped closer to her sister, placing her free hand on her shoulder. She frowned. Holly's shoulder was tensioned.

As the people got closer, they turned into what Rue could only describe as the most stereotypical thugs ever. At the sight of them, Holly let out a small sigh and her shoulders dropped.

The tallest one, with greasy hair, a bruise on his eyebrow, and the start of some stubble, shouted, "You got any money?"

"No."

"Liar! Hand it over!"

Rue rolled her eyes, pulling out her pocket knife. "Why'd you bother asking if you already knew?"

The man beside him, smaller, a bit chubby -- the most important thing about him, as far as she could see, was the fact he had an eyebrow slit, grunted. "Give us all you got, no smart mouthing, girly."

"I have Skittles." She pulled the flimsy package, almost empty, out of Holly's coat pocket. "Wanna taste the rainbow?"

"We want money!" They both said at once, she wondered faintly if they practiced this.

Rue shrugged her left shoulder, "We don't have any, sorry."

The two men took steps towards them, causing her to yank her sister backward. She could feel the hardness of the metal railing behind her back, and the rushing of the river in her ears. Holly's breaking was speeding up.

"Holly," Rue whispered, "run home."

"What? No--"

"It's not that far, Holls." Her blue eyes gave a quick glance to the outline of their house, only minutes away. She groaned, wishing she was in said house. It was still cold.

When her eyes turned back to their apparent muggers, she barely had enough time to push Holly away before the tall one was rushing at her. She squeezed the button on her pocket knife, the blade popped out.

Rue went to stab him, but instead, she slipped on a slither of ice in the most annoying place possible. that, plus the push from the man, caused her body to fall over the side of the river.

The last thing she heard was the screams of her sister. Then her body hitting the water.

And that was how Ruth Rivera died.

author's note

proper crap at writing fighting scenes. i knew how i wanted her to die but idk how to write it so... here's my best effort. promise im better at writing than this xx

also yes alice's death is like a Big Thing lmaoo... i have a hc that she has her own buzzfeed unsolved episode because how weird her disappearance is.