House of the Golden Butterfly

by B. Groves

  Claire walked up and put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. “You’re not the only one. Dreaming about my own deceased brother and him sending messages to me, made me question my whole life.”

  Claire was not lying there. Her visions of David almost drove her insane because she didn’t know if they were real or not.

  “I don’t know yet if I’m totally convinced,” Mac said, “but, I’m getting there.”

  “He keeps telling me to dig around the property,” Claire said.

  Mac sighed and stood there in thought. “What if we excavated the property? Would you be alright with that?”

  Claire scoffed. “I’ve already started.”

  She felt relieved when Mac’s focus turned from the inside of the house to the outside.

  “True.” Mac ran another hand through his hair.

  “Mac, what do you want me to do until then?” Claire asked.

  Mac checked his cell phone and turned to Claire. His stare was dead serious. If he even suspected she was lying, then this would all be over and she would never see justice for her brother.

  “I want you to use some kind of excuse not to meet with Shirley… or Sue. Whatever the fuck her name is,” he said. “If I can’t catch anyone in the morning, I will go there for my usual coffee so she doesn’t suspect.”

  Claire nodded.

  They embraced and Mac lifted Claire’s chin to meet his eyes. “I know this must be hard.”

  “It’ll be over soon,” Claire said trying to sound optimistic.

  They walked down the main staircase and Mac told Claire he’d be in touch when he had some answers.

  The late afternoon sun was ready to dip behind the trees when Mac said goodbye. He made Claire promise to call him if any memories returned or she needed help.

  Claire then waved goodbye to the retreating Mustang.

  She quietly closed the front door and turned around with determination. She had work to do.

  32.

  C laire sat against the cool concrete wall staring at the tiny wooden casket as the night wore on.

  She waited patiently for her brother to appear, and in the meantime, she typed away on her laptop and drank her third glass of wine. Hell, she would smoke a cigarette if she were a smoker just to add to the mood.

  The memories flooded her mind with each passing word she wrote. They were as clear as a church bell ringing for Sunday Mass.

  She could see Sue’s expressions changing one moment from innocence to viciousness whenever she and David were around, and Rose was not.

  One time, Claire ventured into a spare bedroom and found a string of pearls. Why it the necklace was there, she couldn’t remember, but she tried on a necklace in front of the mirror and admired the smooth texture of the pearls.

  Why wearing a necklace would set off her Aunt Sue; she’d never know. But Claire remembered being turned around violently and having the necklace ripped off her neck. She recalled the sound of the tiny pearls hitting the hardwood floors. Sue shoved her to the floor and told her to clean up the mess or Sue would beat her and throw her into the river. When she didn’t find all the pearls, she was spanked so hard, she fell into the nearby bookcase and bumped her head.

  She lifted her head and stared at the concrete wall adjacent to her as the memory played crystal clear in her mind.

  The pain from the bump made Claire rub that part of her forehead subconsciously.

  She took another sip of wine remembering a time when Sue was dragging David by his feet in the hallway downstairs, his cries echoing throughout the house.

  She couldn’t recall what David did wrong, but Claire could see where Sue stopped and placed her elbow down on brother’s neck while he screamed and cried.

  Claire gritted her teeth and set the wine glass down so hard on the floor that it shattered in her hand.

  “Fuck,” she said, as the dark red liquid spread across the floor like blood.

  How ironic, she thought, not doing anything to clean up the mess except wiping the wine on her jeans and clearing shards of broken glass beside her.

  The wine would leave a stain in the concrete, but she didn’t care. She wanted this day to pass so she could confront Sue before calling the authorities.

  Claire closed her eyes, inhaled and exhaled, letting the cool air into her lungs.

  Her hand was becoming sticky from the wine, but she had no desire to stand and walk over to the sink and wash it off.

  She was craving another glass, but again, she ignored the urge and sat on the cold floor lost in her memories of a childhood gone wrong.

  Claire opened her eyes when she thought of the letter that was left for her on top of David’s homemade casket.

  Curiosity finally made her move from her spot and crawl over to where the letter sat in the middle of the floor.

  It was a sealed envelope, yellowed with age.

  Glancing at her brother’s casket, she tore open the envelope, but careful not to rip it to shreds.

  The letterhead inside fared better since the letter was sealed for so long. Only the edges were yellowed, but the rest of the paper stayed a pristine white.

  Claire caught her breath when the first line in Rose’s elegant handwriting read “Dear Claire.”

  Claire read the letter and then read it again. When she read it a third time she snarled and went to tear it to pieces when her breath came out in frosty puffs in front of her.

  Her head shot up and her eyes darted around the room. Her peripheral vision became blurry, and the atmosphere changed from cool to freezing, from dark to a light gray.

  A cold hand placed itself on top of the one that held the letter.

  She turned to see her brother smiling sadly at her.

  “Keep it,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “You’ll need it.”

  She sometimes forgot that her brother’s mind was that of a child and he sometimes struggled to find the right words.

  His mouth opened but the words were garbled since he didn’t know how to tell her why she needed to keep this letter.

  Claire rubbed her face knowing she needed to keep the letter. She was just tired and sick of this emotional rollercoaster. The letter was the concrete evidence Mac asked for.

  This satisfied her brother, and he smiled in relief knowing that he didn’t have to explain further.

  “This isn’t an excuse, though,” she said holding up the piece of paper.

  David shrugged. “No, but she had to.”

  Claire nodded and neatly folded up the letter and placed it inside her pocket.

  She reached out and brushed her brother’s curly hair out of his face with her fingers. Her mood lightened when he protested. Even in spirit form, he was defiant of grooming.

  Claire laughed, but her mood turned gloomier. “You’ll be with Mommy and Daddy soon.”

  Claire hadn’t seen David so excited since he started appearing to her. He jumped up and down and ran circles around the basement.

  “I see them! I see them more,” he kept repeating.

  Claire smiled, but tears threatened to fall. If David was seeing their parents better than before that meant this nightmare was close to ending and she would say goodbye permanently to her brother.

  David stopped running in circles and stared at Claire. He approached her with his expression turning serious.

  “She’s dangerous,” he said.

  Claire knew what he meant and tried to reassure him. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Why didn’t you tell the policeman about me?”

  Claire ran a hand through her hair, noticing that her hair stiffened in this world and she thought she felt ice chips.

  “If I did, then I couldn’t give you the justice you deserve and you might be unable to see Mommy and Daddy again,” Claire explained.

  David cocked his head in thought as he tried to process her words. His expression turned to worry, and he hugged his sister.

  Claire took his cold body in her arms and sque
ezed him as tight as she could.

  “Don’t. Tell the policeman,” David said, his voice muffled in her hair.

  “I’ll be fine. If there’s any danger, I need you to warn me, okay?”

  David nodded against her shoulder and the world David occupied faded in front of her along with her brother.

  Before Claire could blink she found her arms wrapped around the air.

  Claire dropped her arms at her sides and sat on the cold floor for another hour before her butt became numb and she was forced to get up.

  She washed her hand in the sink and tried to wash the floor from the wine stain, but since this concrete floor was so porous the stain would be there for a while.

  She stood and stared at it while a chill ran down her spine thinking it looked like blood staining the floor instead of wine.

  She hoped that wasn’t an ominous warning, but it was too late to turn back now.

  Claire set out the rest of her plan and dragged herself up the staircase to fall into the bed for the night.

  She tried to sleep but the adrenaline of what was to come tomorrow coursed through her veins. She swallowed the bile that seeped up her throat from the dark thoughts that invaded her mind.

  Tomorrow she would confront the woman who abused her brother and herself for a long time. She’d confront the person who took her brother’s life without remorse or regret. One that was living high off her own mother’s money, owned to several businesses of her own over the years while her brother’s corpse rotted in a dark, cold basement.

  Her grandmother wasn’t above guilt about any of this either. She started the ball rolling, and it wasn’t from giving birth to Sue either. No, it was more than that. The letter Claire read earlier in the night was a confession of her guilt in all this.

  It was sickening because Claire could never prove what happened way before her time, but at least she could bring some closure to her brother.

  Claire tossed and turned until the mixture of alcohol and exhaustion forced her into a deep sleep.

  33.

  C laire woke up early that morning, took a walk around the property, and around the house. She wrote an email to Mac and sent it back to herself just in case anything went wrong.

  She walked the house, feeling a presence following her as she went room to room and inspected every inch to make sure nothing was out of place.

  She cleaned up the rest of the mess in Rose’s room making sure that all her things were back where they belonged.

  A strange feeling hovered over Claire that whole morning. She thought it was her brother hiding in the shadows, but she had her doubts because the presence somehow felt different than her brother’s ghost.

  She felt like she was out of her body like someone else had taken over temporarily as she prepared for her meeting with her long-lost Aunt Sue.

  Claire sat down at Rose’s vanity and eyed herself in the lighted mirror. She fought the urge to pick up Rose’s makeup and perfume to fix herself up.

  As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, she thought she saw her own looks transform into another’s. The facial features were familiar and Claire’s lips curled into a smile, but the person looking back at her didn’t smile back. The woman’s face remained a grim expression of concern.

  Claire never flinched from the different reflection in the mirror. She learned this house not only held secrets that were of this world but secrets from beyond a mere grave.

  The woman’s face tightened even more as her mouth moved but Claire didn’t hear the words from Rose’s side of the mirror.

  Claire’s smile left her lips and her amused expression turned to anger. “I know you’re trying to warn me. I know you’re worried about me, but you should have thought about that before you decided to cover-up a murder.”

  The ethereal figure in the mirror didn’t react to Claire’s words, she only kept mouthing words that Claire couldn’t hear.

  Claire shook her head and said, “It’s too late, Rose.”

  Claire stood from the chair in front of the vanity and made her way to the doorway of the master bedroom. She turned around to scan it one more time, her eyes settling on the mirror in the vanity. The mirror was empty. Rose was gone.

  She walked back down the main staircase and back into the kitchen and took one last look around to make sure the setup was perfect.

  The pictures were laid out among a pot of tea, two cups, toasted bread, and butter.

  All she had to do now was make the jam with the secret ingredient. Claire glanced at the clock on the wall. It was time to cook again.

  Claire opened the recipe book, turned on her gas oven and went to work. It didn’t take long to make to her special treat.

  She removed the jam from the heat and skimmed off unnecessary foam to make sure the jam was perfect.

  She ladled some of it into a serving bowl next to the toast and left the rest of the jam on top of the stove.

  Just as she wiped off the stove, the doorbell rang.

  Claire smirked and walked down the long hallway to the front door. She didn’t even have to open the door to know her Aunt Sue stood on the other side.

  Claire rested her hand on the handle, her heartbeat pounded in her chest, her palms were sweating from not knowing what was to come, but this was her time and it was her choice.

  It was time to confront the woman who murdered her brother.

  She fingered the brooch in her jeans pocket hoping for some strength.

  Taking one more deep breath, Claire flung the door open and her Aunt Sue smiled at her.

  34.

  S ix-year-old Claire wept into her pillow that night when she found out her beloved little brother had gone missing and feared that he drowned in the river.

  The tall policeman kept asking her questions, but she didn’t know much. All she wanted was her brother back. She wanted him to walk out of that river and into the house laughing as if it were some kind of prank he played.

  She didn’t dare fall asleep because when she started to doze off, weird visions came to her about David lying on the hardwood floor with blood coming out of his mouth.

  Claire didn’t know why she kept having those visions. Everyone had told her that David snuck out the door and ran away.

  Claire wiped her nose with her hand. She didn’t make any noise because she didn’t want to wake up Mom-mom.

  There were questions and feelings nagging at Claire that she couldn’t explain. She wanted to sleep. Close her eyes and hopefully wake up in the morning and David would be sleeping soundly beside her.

  Fresh tears fell from her eyes knowing she would never see David again.

  The young girl got up from her bed and made her way to her door. She wanted to see David’s room. See his toys and hold them, hoping that he would magically appear.

  Claire squinted in the darkness. She didn’t see Mom mom pacing around, but she knew her grandmother was awake.

  Claire perked her ears when she thought she heard voices downstairs.

  She tiptoed to the top of the stairs and thought she heard a man’s voice. She didn’t recognize the man who was speaking, but she did recognize her Mom mom’s voice.

  She couldn’t make out what the man and her Mom-mom were saying and if Mom mom found out she was listening, she would send her back to her room.

  Claire turned around to tiptoe into David’s room. She entered the room and whimpered when she spied the empty bed.

  For the first time, Claire felt alone in the world. She always had David by her side and thought he would be there forever. Now, the reality hit the young girl right in the chest.

  With a small cry, Claire ran over to the bed and flung herself onto it, sobbing into the sheets.

  She grabbed David’s favorite stuffed dog and held it against her chest.

  Her parents and her brother were dead. All she had left was Mom-mom downstairs.

  The reality was too much for the small child to comprehend as she continued to cry into the soft fabric o
f the dog.

  Claire didn’t know how long she was laying on top of the bed when she felt a hand press against her shoulder.

  The little girl turned around in surprise and thought she would scream when the same hand came down on her mouth.

  “Shh,” the little boy said. “Don’t be afraid, but be quiet.”

  “David! David!” Claire was so excited to see her brother alive that she started jumping on the bed when he let go of her mouth.

  David put a finger to his mouth again to quiet Claire.

  Claire stopped jumping up and down and realized something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

  Her brother didn’t look right. Something was off about him. Something the little girl couldn’t comprehend.

  He looked like her brother and acted like her brother, but his skin was a sickly pale color and his lips were blue.

  Claire’s eyes widened when she realized she could see right through him.

  Claire tried to scream, but it died in her throat when David somehow had his hand on her mouth with the speed of lightning. His tiny hand covered part of her lips and his fingers were ice cold.

  “David?” The little girl asked under brother’s fingers. “What’s wrong with you?”

  David smiled at his sister. He removed his hand when he was satisfied that Claire would not scream again.

  “If you make a noise, she’ll hear you,” David said.

  “Mom-mom?”

  David’s voice was also different. Claire thought it sounded like an echo in her ears. She blinked several times trying to figure out why David acted and sounded like he did.

  “No. She’ll hear you,” David said pointing up to the ceiling.

  Claire was confused. Who was David talking about?

  “Who?”

  “Aunt Sue.”

  “Who?”

  “Aunt Sue,” David repeated.

  “Who is Aunt Sue?” The little girl asked. A spark of an angry face passed before Claire’s eyes, but it was gone before she could grasp it. “Do we have an aunt? I don’t know.”

  David blinked a couple of times as realization came over his face. He smiled at his confused sister but the smile was not one of humor or amusement.