The Butterfly and The Moth

17

I became aware of my consciousness suddenly, and all at once.

The first thing I focused on was the dull and aching pain in my head. It was a foreign pain, but though it was foreign, I knew what it was. I had seen my mother hung-over many times before. She usually didn't stay hungover for long, though. She always took a hit of something to take the pain away.

My still-closed eyes flinched as I began to move, the dull pain becoming a throbbing one instead. I released a groan, frustrated with myself for inflicting my own torture.

And then, without any warning, the loud sounds ringing in my ears reminded me that I didn't have a clue where I was. Panic pushed through me, prompting my eyes to open dramatically.

The bright lights stunned me, making me wince as I forced my body to heave off the thing I was laying on. I looked down — I guess it was a couch. There was a blanket tossed to the side, and a pillow thrown on the ground.

I felt a frown on my face as I moved my eyes, intent on finding clues that would tell me where the hell I was. But only shortly was I able to collect any details— the same kind of posh interior that Daisy's house consisted of, before I realized I wasn't alone.

I chewed my lip as I observed the boy before me. He was a boy, but I couldn't quite pinpoint his age. He was dressed in Spider-Man pyjamas, sitting on his knees on the floor in front of a giant TV. He wasn't focused on me at all. He was too busy with the remote in his hand. He was expertly navigating the time bar of a Disney movie, playing the same thirty seconds of the film before rewinding and watching it again.

I didn't say anything quite yet, I just watched him further. He was completely focused on what he was doing. He was rocking back and forth, and his hands were moving in a peculiar way. His mannerisms made him look younger than I would have guessed based on his appearance.

And though I had never met this boy before, I instantly knew who he was. Not only that, I knew where I was now. He was the spitting image of Sterling.

And as I realized that, blurry memories of my night came back to me. I remembered buying alcohol, I remembered meeting Colt. I remembered Sterling coming to the parking lot, and I remembered getting into his car. But after that, it was all blank.

"Hi," I finally said to the boy, wondering why he hadn't yet spoken to me. I didn't have much experience with young kids, being that I had no cousins. But from what I did know, they rarely shut up.

I watched as Sterling's brother heard my voice. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't what happened. He didn't move his head from the direction it was in; pointed directly at the TV, but I could see the way he looked at me from the side of his eyes. Just for a few seconds, maybe two, before he went back to watching TV.

Shy, I guess. Or maybe just rude, like his brother.

"August," I heard Sterling's voice, causing me to jump. Even though I now knew I was in his house, for some reason I still wasn't expecting him.

Sterling was standing at the edge of the living room we seemed to be in. He wasn't looking at me, at all. He looked apprehensive, yet frustrated at the same time.

"August," he said again, when his brother still didn't turn to look at him. He spoke with authority to his brother, but also with love so intense it surprised me. "You're not supposed to be down here."

His brother, August— I guess, finally turned towards him. I watched them interact like I wasn't here at all, like I was hidden by a two way mirror.

August's hand movements increased their pace as he looked at his brother. They were small flapping motions, rhythmic in the air. He frowned at Sterling, before pushing down on the screen of a large iPad I hadn't yet seen.