The dead girl's room was covered in butterflies. 

Most of them hand-drawn, other stickers.  They found them on sticky notes, doodled in the corners of pages on pages of notes from school, on her dead body in all the places she could reach.  Names were doodled nearby these little rainbows of creatures –Aria, Hazel, Mary, Will, Evangeline –all in their own different colors from red to purple, all except for green.  All of the butterflies looked the same –with the same swooping pattern made by a hand well practiced and familiar that was used to making butterflies again and again and again. 

A little voice had called 911 –a little thing, no older than five.  It was, in fact, the same little voice that was right in front of her now, swinging his feet in that childish way that children do. 

"Is Zuwee alwight?" The little boy inquired the moment she had walked in, clip-board in hand.  In his hand was a lollipop –a bright, lime green.  Some other officer must have given it to him to make sure he didn't walk downstairs and see his dead sister. 

He was too young to be interviewed.  What could she possibly learn from him? 

"Is Zuri your sister?" She inquired in return, already knowing the answer.  Either way, she glanced at her clip-board, confirming the name.  Zuri Cullen. The dead girl. 

He nodded, green lollipop in his mouth, his small, little green sneakers swinging under the legs of the massive wooden chair he was sitting in -his tiny toddler-sized feet not even close to touching the ground.  Swinging back and forth.  So innocent. 

So ignorant. 

"What's your name?" 

"Max," his little voice was very little indeed, shyness pushing him deeper into the chair -lime lollipop in his mouth as an excuse not to speak.

"Hi Max.  My name's Kara," she stated, forcing a smile that she hoped looked genuine.  Warm.  Friendly. "Is it okay if I ask you some questions?" 

Max nodded, slower this time -thinking- curiosity making it's jovial path across his small, youthful cheeks and up to his large green eyes, glowing in the faint light from the lamp.  

She wondered what those same eyes would look like when he found out about his sister. 

"Do you know why your sister draws butterflies?" 

"The Butterfwy Pwoject," he answered easily, little legs swinging.  Still swinging.  "Zuwee let me name one.  The green one.  I nameded him Coffee.  I like gween," he finished, rambling before shoving his green orb back into his mouth and receding backwards into the sanctuary of the large chair, but not far enough as to stop is feet from swinging.

"So the two of you named the butterflies?" 

"Yea." 

"Why did you guys name the butterflies?" 

"So that the Butterfwies would pwotect her." 

She frowned.  Was there an abuser in the family that she needed to be concerned about?  "Protect her from what?" 

"I dunno," Max said lightly enough, but his feet slowly swung to a stop.  He slipped the green lollipop into his mouth almost sheepishly.  "She always had wed lines," he continued once he pulled out the lime green lollipop.  "On her wist and arms."  Max held out his forearms in demonstration.  "She always tolded me that the butterfwies would pwotect her and as long as they was there, she couldn't hurt." 

Pause.  "Couldn't hurt or couldn't be hurt?" 

Max almost seemed to be crumpling into himself, his little mouth opening and closing without making a sound.  He looked confused as if he didn't quite understand the difference in what I was asking. "I...I dunno." Silence.  "But Zuwee tolded me that she loveded Coffee the most.  Coffee is gween.  He is the bestest one.  And he's gween."  He popped the lollipop back in his mouth, large green eyes fixed on his sneakers, a pleased smile on his face from the memory.

"Tell me about the names.  You said you helped her name the butterflies, right?" 

Bright green eyes on an angelic face, slowly growing dark with defeated sadness.  "Only Coffee," Max remarked sadly, shaking his head, short blond curls moving left and right, back and forth.  His legs had picked up again, swinging along to some invisible tune.  Back and forth, back and forth.  "She said it was the wrules." 

"What are the rules?" 

"Umm...I don't remember." 

"That's okay," she said smiling politely.  "Did anyone else name the butterflies?" 

"Mommy nameded one and Daddy nameded one but they donut know," Max giggled, holding the lime green lollipop, much smaller now.  "She twicked them and I had to twy weally weally hawd not to laugh." 

"Do you remember what names they chose?" 

Swinging came to a pause once more.  "Mommy choosed a weally long name.  I dunno it.  But Daddy's was easy.  He choosed Mary."  The swinging resumed. 

The names next to the butterflies? If those were the butterflies, then where was Coffee?  There was no green butterfly. 

"Thanks, Max," she stated, getting to her feet.  "You've been a lot of help." 

"But what 'bout Zuwee?" He asked, tears welling up in his big green eyes. 

"What about Zuri?" 

"Is she alwight?" 

In most cases, lying to a kid a wrong.  But she didn't feel like it was her place to tell him the truth. 

"She's fine." 

"What 'bout the Butterfwies?" 

"The butterflies?" 

"Is the Butterfwies okay too?" 

"Yeah," she said making her way to her feet. 

"Coffee too?" 

"Yes, him too," she said absently, leaving Max behind on the large wooden chair.  His green lollipop was almost finished, his feet still swinging.  She absently wondered if they would stop swinging once he found out the true fate of his sister. 

Later, she looked up The Butterfly Project. 

It was a trick to stop cutting.   

You draw butterflies on yourself and name them.  Until the ink fades away, you aren't allowed to cut yourself.  The ink has to come of naturally, no scrubbing them away otherwise you kill a butterfly.  If you cut before that, you kill a butterfly. 

Supposedly, you were supposed to get the people you loved to name your butterflies or name them after your loved ones. 

And the goal was not to cut the butterflies. 

When she saw the body again, she inspected the dead girl's arms.  The ones covered in butterflies.  They all had lines through them -some hardly visibly through the blood that stained her body- and noticed that the blade had been driven through each of the butterfly's wings. 

Except for one. 

 

The only butterfly that lived was green.