The spring of ‘92, seventeen year old Renae Wither abruptly disappeared. It has been several weeks since the disappearance of Renae. Left without a sign, not even a small clue. It’s like she evaporated into thin air. Her brother, Brody Wither knew there was something suspicious happening. Brody assumed she left due to her passing of her boyfriend five months back. An instant death thankfully, car crash, of course. Oh what a sad time. Renae couldn’t eat, sleep, or focus on anything. He was a great guy, they were in love. Everyone thought they’d last. Now both of them are gone and it’s such a disappointing, upsetting, and troubling time for their families. Brody searched and searched and no one has spotted her. Weeks have went by and no sign of her anywhere. There was one spot where Brody would possibly think she was. The grave of her late boyfriend. He was buried at the cemetery 2 hours away from the town. As he drove, he felt a strong gut feeling in his stomach. Something was not right. As he continues to drive, it started to pour. The smell of the rain overtook the car and the fog grew over the fields and the roads. Making it incredibly hard to see. He pulls over for a minute to see if it was safe enough to drive as he was in the country side, a suburb town as they call it. Not a car in sight, as he waits patiently for the fog to pass and the coats to be clear. Thirty minute passes and he decides it was safe enough to continue. As he drove the pit stomach feel he had grew stronger and he began to weep. Two hours have passed and he was around ten minutes away from the cemetery. He parked in a gas station and got out of his car to pray. Pray that his little sister was not dead, was not hurt, was safe and sound near his grave ready to come back home to the people that truly love her and miss her. And god did he pray. He was on his knees in the middle of the gas station praying as the others way do we him questioning what could be so wrong that he was on the ground weeping, no not weeping, bawling. Bawling his eyes and praying and bawling so hard that he was mumbling his words and stuttering to the point where he wouldn’t even be able to comprehend his words that came so fast out of this mouth. As he finished up his prayer he sat in his truck and thought worst case scenario. What if she was not there. Where to look next, where to think, where to go, what to say to the family who is praying their little girl is to be found and to be found safe and healthy. What if she was dead? What to do, what to think, what to feel…what to say? What if she was dead, he thought, what if she was truly dead. How could I let her. How could I live with the fact I could have helped her. Could have saved her. He stopped after a while and pulled himself together to drive and carry on. He finally got to the cemetery. The grave was a few miles back. He got out of the truck into the pouring rain and ran to the grave. There was a person. Who is this? He thought, please Lord…do not let it be her. As he got up to the grave, he fell to the floor. The rain poured and poured harder than before. The thunder boomed, the lightning flashed across the sky lighting up the grave to see that his little sister with a knife in her hand with it in her stomach while blood, fresh blood, was pouring out and her other hand in the grass near by the grave as the rain drops fell on her hand. Oh god, it was her. It was this little ray of sunshine dead in the grass covered by the blood she had caused. Oh god, he thought, oh god what have you done! What have you done! He sat next to her weeping as he closed her eyes with his hands he laid next to her weeping in the pouring rain with the blood pouring out of her stomach onto the wet, green grass underneath them.