Dots

Ricky

Darla Richards lived in a quaint neighbour on the outskirts of the city. It was a middle class suburbia where folks communed faithfully to church every Sunday, where your neighbors knew your grades before you parents did and where, until recently, Ricky Richards had lived.
Yet the church was silent and grades were the last thing on people's minds on the Sunday after Ricky's untimely passing.

Darla watched the casket, containing her twin brother, being lowered into the ground as the entire neighbourhood gave her suffocating looks of pity. People she had never talked to in school, came over to her house to watch movies and her parents avoided her like the plague.
Darla suspects it's because people look into her eyes and see the ghost of Ricky.
Ricky: the popular twin, the prodigal son and all round neighbourhood celebrity. Darla wished she had Ricky's charm or self control to handle the funeral but she didn't. The only thing she shared with her brother, besides a house and parents, were his eyes.
The same frosted blue eyes as her brother.
The same frosted blue eyes she'd seen before she saw the blood.

Darla stood up, in the middle of a speech and ran out of the house, away from the funeral and back to where it had all begun.
Two blocks down, where a grave that no one knew existed sat.
The grave of Ms Johnson's missing cat.
No one saw what she'd seen on that night... No one still living at least.
Ricky saw.
And now Ricky is dead.
No one knows.
No one will ever know.
Except Ricky, whose disapproving stare haunts her through the mirror. Ricky said he saw her leave the house and followed her.
Ricky said he was there when she found the cat.
And Ricky said he watched her kill the harmless cat and then watched as she woke up.
The frosted blue eyes reflecting her own and the blood on her hands as she registered her brother's words.
Darla wasn't a killer.
Ricky wasn't a liar.
But she'll never know what really happened that night because all she remembers is his eyes and the blood.
Then the next day he was found dead in his bed.
No blood, no knife, no evidence.
No Ricky.