Butters is still missing. No one is home again, and even though it’s raining, it’s a light sprinkling, really, so I don my heaviest coat and head out to try to find him… again.

I start heading to The Ash. Surely that’s where he would’ve gone. When Mom and I went around the neighborhood we were in a car and couldn’t see that well because of the rain. On foot, I’ve got a better chance of finding him, but I’ve had no luck the few times I’ve walked around the neighborhood. Every time I venture more than a mile away, I keep telling myself that there’s no way that he would’ve gone that far.

The sun is hot overhead, steam rising from the pavement due to the humidity. My hair is a frizzy mess that I barely manage to wrangle into a bun.

It’s hot in the jacket, but I don’t know where my umbrella is, and it’s the only jacket I have that has a hood, so I leave it on.

It almost feels wrong that the sun is out while it’s raining. I feel like it should be dark and dreary and cold. Usually when it rains, its freezing, even if it’s summertime.

But it’s warm today. Sweltering, even. It would almost be considered a pretty day if it weren’t for the spattering of rain.

When I get to The Ash, I find a quiet place and lay in the grass. It’s empty here, the rain driving away the typical park goers. I bet even Gage isn’t here today.

I can hear the wet swish of tires on pavement in the distance, but other than that, it’s just the sound of rain plopping down as the drizzle begins to get heavier. I start to feel the wet through my coat and pants, but I don’t care.

I am alone.

In this moment, I feel more alone than I ever have before. No one knows where I am. I’m not sure they care to know. I’m not sure that I even care.

Butters is still missing and I’m realistic enough to know that it doesn’t look good. That something probably happened.

I’m sorry, Butters. I’m sorry, Ruby.

My hope is dwindling faster than the rain is falling. What will I do now? Will I keep searching? Will the weeks turn to months? Into years? Will he come back? When do I stop?

Is he dead?

Dead.

That word rings in my head and suddenly I want to scream.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Butters might be dead.

Ruby is dead.

A headache pounds behind my eyes and my chest hurts, that unseen bruise aching. There’s this physical pain you get when you’re trying not to cry. I never knew how excruciating it could be.

I can’t breathe. I’m choking on nothing. The pain in my chest moves to the back of my throat.

Can you die from a broken heart? Is it wrong that I feel like my heart is breaking now?

I want to be nothing.

I want to die too.

Yet, I don’t.

I wish the rain would dissolve me like the witch in The Wizard of Oz.

I wish Ruby didn’t die.

I wish I could find Butters.

I don’t know how long I soak up the rain like a sponge, letting the warm drops blanket me. I stay there until I’m lying in a puddle of muddy water. And then I get up. Because that’s all I can do at this moment.

With one step slowly in front of the other, my waterlogged clothes sagging and uncomfortable, I go home.