Black and grey tattoo of two butterflies beside the script phrase 'My Sister's Keeper' on a person's chest, with a thin chain necklace visible.

Two butterflies and script on the chest

Lettering · Chest · Black and grey · Photo

Two butterflies are drawn in black outline with grey shading, one larger and one smaller, with the larger one angled towards the top left. The handwritten script 'My Sister's Keeper' runs diagonally down to the right beside them, in dark ink with soft shading. The photograph is taken close up and shows only the skin of the chest, with a thin gold chain and pendant at the edge of the frame.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The ewes had been lambing since the first frost, and by the third night Marnie had stopped counting the hours. Dad's hands were too stiff now to hold a torch steady, so it fell to me to kneel in the straw with the lantern hooked on a nail, my sleeves shoved up past the elbow and my breath going up in clouds. Rosie was the one who came out to help, though nobody had asked her. She stood in the doorway in Mum's old wellies, two sizes too big, and said nothing until the lamb slid free and shook its wet head like it was cross about the whole business.

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We named it Pip, which Rosie said was a rubbish name for a lamb but a good one for a fighter. It lived in the kitchen by the range for a week, wrapped in a feed sack, and every morning she'd check on it before she checked on anything else. I told her the sheep would sort it out. She told me I didn't know anything about being left behind, and I let that go, because it was true enough and too early to argue.

In March the butterflies came out over the top field, the small brown ones that nobody bothers to look at. Rosie caught one in a jam jar and carried it up to the gate, holding it like a secret. When she tipped the lid it didn't fly straight off. It sat on her knuckle for a long moment, opening and closing its wings as if it was deciding whether we were worth the trouble. Then it lifted, went up over the hedge towards the road, and she turned to me with a face I'd forgotten she could make. Let's go, she said. Pip's waiting.

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