~~~
The male graphium sarpedon feeds from puddles. I think that very thought as I scrape my fingernails through the dirt on the creek’s edge: the place where my sister fell.
I just wish I knew who that second butterfly was for Emily. Why didn’t I ask her at the time?
I pick up the torch; shine it on the torn diary page. ‘Who did this to you, Em?’ I whisper.
I strain to decipher her handwriting. On the page, I see paranoid ramblings about ‘Brandi’ and ‘R’, together. My heart skips. Is this why Brandi kept this page to herself? Giving it to me now: is this her way of absolving her sins?
And then it falls into place.
The silver chain Ryan found on Emily. It was Brandi’s.
And then in my mind I see the blue sweatshirt. The blue eyes.
And I know who R is.
I know who the second butterfly is.
And he was here, by the creek’s edge. Maybe with my best friend.
Hanging my sister.