Sister, Sister

“You had a sister.”

It was a sentence Jove had gotten quite used to hearing, though it still stung a little every time. First there was the you, letting her know it was her they were talking about, no one else. Some people put more emphasis on it, if they really wanted it to sink in. Others lingered, unsure if they should finish the sentence. It would be just as easy to change course and say you like coffee or you look well. What a shame neither of those were true.

Nearly everyone let the sister glide out of their mouths, though some let the “r” stay a second too long, as if they weren’t sure it was a sister she had. Maybe it was a pet dog, or a car key. Something that’s much, much easier to lose.

And, of course, the had. Not have, or having. Had.

Jove swallowed. “Yes.”

The man who uttered this sentence after she had opened her front door wasn’t someone she’d seen before. She was sure she'd recognize him; he had unique freckles, all dark, spotting his face like flecks of dirt. It was probably someone her sister knew. She knew— had known —a lot of people.

“I’m Petyr,” he explained. “Did she… mention me?”

Jove shook her head.

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“It probably wasn’t your fault,” Jove explained, feeling the need to. “She didn’t talk much. To me, at least. I only— yeah.” She blinked. “Can I help you with something?”

“I just wanted to drop off these.” He held out his hand.

Jove looked down. In Petyr’s hand were three objects. A key, a necklace, and— Jove’s eyes widened. A folded photograph.

“I think she would want you to have these,” he said.

Jove watched silently as Petyr dropped the objects into her hand, one by one. The photo. The necklace. The key. Each one weighed close to nothing, but they somehow felt so heavy resting in her smooth palm.

“Well. Um. I guess… goodbye. And my condolences.”

Jove looked up, meeting Petyr’s eyes. He looked uncomfortable. “Bye. It was nice to meet you.”

“You too.” He started to turn away, but then seemingly decided he had more to say. “Emilia was one of the greatest people I’ve ever met. I’ll really miss her.”

Jove shuddered a little at hearing her name on his lips. She had tried to keep the conversation as vague as possible; if you said “sister,” it implied that perhaps there could be another one he was referring to. But calling someone by name… well. There was only one Emilia.

“Yeah. Me too.” Jove swallowed, her eyes welling up. It was second nature at this point; she wept because the only alternative was forgetting, and there was no way in the seventh heaven she was letting that happen.

“Well. I’ll... um. I should go.” Petyr took a step back off of her stoop. He wavered there for a moment before tipping off the edge, turning around and walking back to the sidewalk.

Jove let the door swing shut, not bothering to lock it behind her. She scurried into her sitting room, the floors cold beneath her bare feet, and plopped down on the settee. She pulled the table lamp’s switch and soon she (and the three gifts Petyr had given her) were bathed in soft, yellow light.

The key glinted, catching her eye. She raised it closer to her face. There was a small number and letter on it: 3a. It looked like it belonged to some sort of hotel or inn, or even perhaps an assigned locker somewhere. Her breath fogged the brassy metal as she examined it.

~

i. the key

It was summer when the dark clouds had come rolling in, bringing the storms with them. Rain fell in sheets, a miniature armada of bullets gunning the grass blades flat before Emilia’s bare feet came and flattened them even more.

“Emilia!” Someone from in front of her called her name. “You better hurry! The rain’s coming down pretty fast.”

Emilia grinned, exactly where she wanted to be. “I’ll be right there, Petyr.”

“You’re crazy.” Petyr joined her underneath the dark sky, raindrops staining his shirt.

She smiled. “It’s what you love about me.”

“That’s true.” He gave one of his sideways grins, hair plastered to his forehead. When he kissed her, he tasted like humidity and lightning.

They stumbled towards the house together, limbs tangling together, seemingly unable to go a few moments without touching each other again.

Someone's hand—it was impossible to tell whose—tried to fit the key into the lock, slamming it to the left and to the right before it finally landed haphazardly in the lock.

The door fell open as the two continued embracing, falling onto the bed, leaving the wind and rain streaming in through the open door. The key stayed in the lock. There was no time for safety; not when love was at stake.

~

Jove set the key down on the table, moving on to the necklace. She let the chain drape over her long fingers, gold and delicate. The pendant was a single diamond, set in gilded metals and cut so that it contained rainbows as the light from the lamp shone upon it. It was something that never had left Emilia’s neck, pressed first into her hand as their mother had passed nearly ten years ago. Emilia had gotten it as she was the oldest. Jove knew it was their mother’s mark of authority, of elegance, of everything she left behind to Emilia. Letting it dangle a few moments more, she let herself be captivated by the way the light fractured inside the gem.

~

ii. the necklace

The sheet was wet. Emilia’s skin was sticky with sweat and humidity. Petyr was pressed against her, his breath tickling her ear. His hands traced lazy circles over her bare skin, and despite the summer, she shivered. Her hair was still damp from the rain, but at least she had gotten out of her wet clothes.

She shifted, and the diamond pendant (the only thing she didn’t take off) shifted with her. She’d grown used to the feeling of it resting on her sternum, the way it felt subtly pressed into her skin as Petyr laid on top of her. Now she was facing Petyr, her eyes wide as she gazed up at his face resting on the pillow. His eyes were closed, and the curvature of his lids quivered. She could count each dark freckle placed like stars on his face.

Suddenly, Petyr’s eyes snapped open, and before Emilia could register what was happening, he shoved her face to his. His lips were a comfort, even when they were aggressive.

He rolled himself on top of her, and she moved with him, leaning in deeper, letting her back arch, sweat building between them.

She felt his teeth against her tongue, against her lips, but thought nothing of it until he used them to bite down. A gasp bubbled from her throat and into his. She suddenly became aware of the necklace chain digging into the back of her neck and Petyr’s hand wrapped in her hair painfully.

An unfamiliar glint shone at her neck, one that was decidedly not from the diamond.

Emilia gasped, made thick from the liquid in the air and in her throat. “Petyr—”

~

Jove fastened the necklace around her neck, relishing the feel it had against her chest. It was small, true, but the weight it carried in her heart made it much more than it actually was.

She reached out and plucked the photograph from the table, thinking nothing of it. She assumed it would be a candid of Emilia, just another photograph to add to her memories. In time, she was sure she’d need it to recall the details of her sister. How she sounded when she laughed, how her smile wrinkled the corners of her eyes, how her hair fell in ringlets that framed her face perfectly.

Jove unfolded the photograph and screamed.

~

iii. the photograph

Emilia’s body was still on the bed, soaking in a pool of its own blood. And yes, Petyr thought, its. It stopped being she as he drew the knife through each throat tendon, the light in her—its—eyes stolen by his hand. He’d taken the necklace off of the bleeding stump, the… the thing that was left of its once-graceful neck. He’d been kissing that neck earlier, though it seemed hard to believe now.

He grabbed the head by the hair and laid it in the lap of the body, blood leaking out onto the floral comforter. It was strange. Emilia’s corpse was almost more beautiful than Emilia had been while alive. He took the camera Emilia had bought from her last paycheck and snapped a photo, one he'd have to develop himself later.

Petyr left the door wide open as he left. He let the storm clear his hands of blood and tossed the knife into the nearby lake. His car took three tries to start, but when it did, he drove fast. The raindrops felt like bullets against the windows.

He had met Emilia a month ago. He’d been down on his luck, searching for the right girl. And then she had come, with her upscale apartment above a department store, where she worked as a counter girl. Petyr was charming when he needed to be, and soon he had moved in.

It was made easier, too, as Emilia radiated loneliness. She was pretty, it was true, but for some reason she had never picked up friends. There was something melancholy about her, those doe eyes filled with the glass of broken promises and torn childhood. She was the type of girl that no one would miss.

The raindrops continued to drum on his windshield, drawing him back to the present. There was still something he had left to do. Something important.

He had to go visit the address Emilia penned on all of those unsent letters, the ones he picked out of her trash can while she was at work.

He had to go and find Jove.

~

Jove whimpered, letting the photograph fall out of her hand. She closed her eyes, willing the image to leave her brain. She was so horrified, so… repulsed by the image that she didn’t even notice the shadow pass over the lamp.

She did notice, however, when a hand clamped over her mouth and the necklace chain bit into her neck. She tried to struggle and scream but her attempts were silenced by a sliver of silver.

The lamp went out.