Page 2 of Starving Butterfly
The car hit a pothole and my body went flying upward into the trunk. I bit my tongue as my head banged against the top of the trunk. Tears sprang free from my eyes as I tried to focus on something other than the bad man who took me. I wanted to keep happy thoughts in my head. That was better than waiting for something bad. My eye caught on the beam of sunshine through the keyhole of the trunk, and I grabbed at one of my last happy thoughts. The time I saw Mommy in real life.
“Come on Reyna hurry up!” I urged her to move forward. She chuckled and continued on slowly toward the swing set. I grabbed her hand, hurrying her to my favorite swing, when a group of kids jumped in front of us.
They abandoned the hopscotch lines on the sidewalk; a large, smooth rock glimmered in the middle. Calling my name as if it needed me to play with it instead. I smiled widely, dragging Reyna to the sidewalk.
“Ah my sweet girl slow down,” she sighed a few steps behind.
I didn’t look back; instead, I picked up the rock and tossed it against the blocks.
“Engine, Engine number one...” I chanted as I made the rounds through the lines. When I glanced up at number six, I caught her blonde hair. I watched her lean body pound across the runner’s track across the way. Mommy. I almost screamed it out loud. My little heart beat rapidly against my chest. My mommy's here, of all places. Reyna noticed my excitement.
“My sweet child are you really that happy to play today?” She smiled at me and I screamed out of excitement.
“Yes! I am having so much fun!” I replied. Turning on my heels to finish the number, I saw Mommy round the track again. The sun had begun setting fast, and the night chill crept in.
“Come on Gabby we must go,” Reyna urged, and I shook my head.
“Just a little longer please.” I begged as I started chanting for number eight. She sighed, shaking her head, but let me continue. I had lost sight of Mommy again. Something told me she was close by, though. Completing number eight, I started chanting again. “Engine, engine, number nine…” The stone landed on number nine, and I giggled as the game was almost done.
“Gabby, we can’t stay longer, we have to go home.” Reyna nagged.
“Please, just let me finish, I have one turn left,” I pleaded with her, giving her the biggest puppy-dog eyes I could muster.
“Alright last turn, then we really must go,” she set her purse down, coming closer to watch. I smiled and giggled as I started my final chant.
“Hop like sunshine all the way,” I giggled as the wind whipped my hair in my face. When I made it to the final square, excitement overtook me. Hopping up and down, cheering withReyna about it. Mommy would come and join us any minute; I felt it. I knew this was going to be awesome. In my excited state, I didn’t notice the time that crept by and got distracted by a group of butterflies. If I could just catch one of them, I could whisper a secret to it and it would carry my secret with the wind.
The car slammed to a halt. The trunk flew open. The light burned my eyes.
The bad man snatched my hair, and I screamed, clawing and kicking.
I bit him hard, and he dropped me. The impact of the hard concrete rattled my brain as I ran screaming for help.
It wasn’t fast enough. The bad man caught hold of me. “You little bitch,” he spat, and the last thing I saw before everything went black was those ugly yellow teeth twisted into a smile as if he thought this was funny.
3
I KNEW THINGS WEREN’T PERFECT…
October 7th
Iknew things weren’t rainbows and butterflies. They were blood smears and slaughter. Always. What I didn’t know was how strong I would have to be to survive.
He stood over me. One of my long-forgotten tormentors. Doctor. Lucas. Avery.
He didn’t comment, just finished bandaging my ribcage and checking the other bullet wounds.
The man who had been a constant source of agony since I was fourteen. The doctor, I thought, was dead. Burned in a fire along with all the other evil bastards.
“Why are you here?” I asked as he retreated to the chair by the bedside.
“Karter called me.” His voice was calm. Always with that devoid of emotion, steady tone.
“How do you know him?”
“I’m curious. Of all the scars you had on your body when they sent you to us. The ‘whore’ one is new. I’d love to know the story behind that.” He mused as he checked his phone. I stared at him for a long time. Wishing I could move enough to stab that stupid smirk off his face. But I was weak. There was no way in hell I was moving with the blood loss. Dr. Avery knew that. He preyed on it. He waited for me to come to a conclusion.
“A fair trade then?” I offered. I hated the man, but he collected information like candy. He always knew someone who’d be of interest, and I hated that I had to trade my trauma for it. Sick bastard.
