Nomura crawled over buildings and slithered up walls as she followed Joan. Her mastery of spying and secrecy allowed her to move unheard and unseen.
As Joan navigated the dirty streets, Nomura's sense of danger rose.
Groups of teenagers, mostly young men, lurked in the shadows. Each group the young woman passed wore a different color or symbol, reminding Nomura of many trolls' tribal behavior as the teenagers congregated with others of the same ethnicity.
Despite the darkness, half the young people wore hooded jackets, and the others sported dingy wife-beaters. The glowing tips of cigarettes illuminated their hard eyes with every draw, and empty beer cans littered the ground around their feet.
With every block they passed, Joan walked faster. Nomura kept a closer eye on the girl the farther into gang territory she went.
The more of humanity Nomura saw, the more she wondered at Trollmarket with all the shapes and sizes of its denizens, living together peacefully.
Joan stopped in front of a run-down apartment building, its paint peeling. Several windows on the lower floor were smashed, and glass littered the street. Rap's heavy beat rang in Nomura's ears, setting her teeth on edge. The flat, electronic noise irritated her with its inane repetition and lack of musical substance.
Joan glanced up at a lit window and groaned, taking a deep breath before venturing inside.
Nomura deftly leapt over to the tattered building and peaked in, watching Joan's ascent until the girl arrived on the fourth floor and entered the lit apartment.
In the living room, a woman sat on the couch, face vacant, eyes glazed over as a thin trail of smoke rose from the joint in her hand. Across the room, a man danced and wailed along with the music.
Nomura tugged the window open an inch. The grating noise blasted into her face.
Joan, head down, started past the man.
"Where you been?" he demanded.
The young woman bit her lip. "Out."
"Joan." The woman on the couch took another hit of her joint. "Josh asked you a question."
"I can't sleep will all the noise here!" Joan shot back. "So, I went for a walk."
"You been hangin' with those Proud Hogs, haven't you?" Josh accused, cursing at the teen.
"No!" Joan defended.
Nomura's ears flattened as Josh slapped Joan so hard the sound rang clearly above the din of the radio.
"Don't you lie to me, girl!"
To Nomura's surprise, the young woman didn't say anything, just stepped away from Josh, eyes averted.
The woman on the couch sighed loudly. "Why you have to be so difficult? Your brother's doin' so good helpin' out the Punk Sharks."
Joan watched a younger boy, sitting in the corner, his skin just a little lighter than her dark chocolate complexion. The thirteen-year-old eagerly chugged a beer.
"David just sold ten G's of snow today. He's bringin' in the dough." The woman gave the boy a proud smile, and David grinned at the praise. "The least you could do is help out, girl."
"I'm going to bed," Joan muttered, heading for the door on the other side of the room.
"Hey! Don't you walk away from me!" Josh bellowed. "You listen when I tell you somethin'!"
"Why? What is it you want?" Joan snapped. "You're not my dad."
Josh's hand flew toward Joan again. Nomura hissed at the sharp slap, fire rising in her throat.
"Don't you talk to me like that, Nigga," Josh growled.
Nomura drew back at the man's words as she saw the defeat in Joan's eyes. The young woman put her head down and didn't reply.
"Why you ain't sayin' nothin'?" Josh narrowed his eyes. "Huh?" When Joan still didn't reply, he gave her a condescending pat on the head. "Good girl."
This time, when Joan turned to leave, Josh let her go. Nomura skittered over the outside wall, slipping to the next window. Joan walked into a tiny bedroom. Three beds were stuffed inside, one of them occupied by a boy a little older than Joan. He lay on his back, snoring.
With a sigh, Joan plopped down on her bed, sitting quietly for a long moment. She pulled off her big sweater. Nomura's anger flared again as she saw the lines of bruises on the girl's arms.
Joan changed for the night and climbed into bed.
Nomura crept back to the first window and spotted the marks on the woman's body – just as many, if not more than Joan's. The dark circles under her eyes betrayed her lack of sleep, and her poor skin reflected her steady diet of drugs and alcohol. She wasn't very old – maybe in her late twenties or early thirties.
Despite Nomura's anger, sadness welled up as she looked at the scene again: the boy, praised for selling drugs and drinking beer; the thin, sickly woman who tried to hide her world-worn face behind a mask of makeup and brightly colored clothes; and the man whose only recourse was to beat those who displeased or disagreed with him.
One word echoed in Nomura's mind. Hopeless.
The troll slinked back to the ground floor. She spied a list of names posted outside the main entrance – the building's residents.
She skirted through the list. There. Isabel Callas, Christian Callas, Joan Callas, David Callas – no mention of a Josh or Joshua. Nomura snorted. So, the hot-head was a leech.
She checked the list again, figuring Christian was the older boy asleep in the bedroom.
Nomura sighed. Knowing her rotten luck, this wouldn't be the last she'd see of this terrible neighborhood, but to her surprise, that knowledge didn't trouble her as much as it should have.
Editted by dtill359