The second, written in shakier handwriting:
“Brother, am I going to die here? I want to eat something real. I’ve been locked in a burning room for two days as punishment. I’m so thirsty, so hungry. The flames are everywhere when they open the door. I think I’m hallucinating.”
Another, on the back of a medication slip:
“Brother, when will you bring me home? I really didn’t hurt her. I swear on Mom and Dad’s memory. Please believe me.”
The notes grew more desperate:
“Brother, where are you? Why don’t you love me anymore? Why have you abandoned me? What did I do that was so unforgivable?”
“Brother, it hurts so bad. I have a fever of 104. The handler forced me to drink silver–laced medicine, saying it will ‘calm my wolf.‘ I’m in agony. I think I might be dying.”
“Brother, they whip me with silver whips when I disobey. It hurts so much. I promise I’ll never disobey again. I’ll be perfect. Just please come get me.”
“Brother, I almost died yesterday. They strapped me to an electric bed for ‘therapy.‘ I vomited from the pain and nearly choked to death on it. No one helped me. They just watched.”
“Brother, I don’t want to go to the isolation room anymore. It’s terrifying. That handler, Morris, is a predator. He comes at night. It hurts so much. I can’t fight him off. Please help me.”
“Brother, I really didn’t hurt Selene. I don’t understand why you won’t believe me. What did I do to make you hate me?”
“Brother, what would it take for you to believe me? Do I need to die? Would that finally convince you?”
The last note, dated just a week before my release:
“Brother, will I ever be able to come home? Or is home gone forever now? I don’t think I can survive much longer. I’m sorry I wasn’t the sister you wanted.”
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I saw my brother’s hands shaking uncontrollably as he read each note, the color draining from his face until he looked ghostly in the dim attic light. He read them once, twice, three times, as if hoping the words would somehow change.
Red–eyed, he finally threw back his head and let out an agonized howl that shook the house to its foundations–the primal cry of a wolf who has discovered he’s destroyed what he most cherished.
“Skye, my Skye,” he sobbed, clutching the notes to his chest. “What have I done? Moon Goddess, what have I done to my little sister?”
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