Page 48 of Starving Butterfly
I didn’t know how long I sat there, or when I had stopped crying and the numbness settled over. I just sat listening to the soft cascade of water as it drained into the sink. My whole body felt cold, and my hand went to my stomach in panic.
A soft kick of a foot bumped against my hand, and I laughed a little.
“Sorry little ones, mommy’s just a little sad about your older sister.” I whispered, holding back an ugly cry.
A soft knock sounded, and Reyna’s head popped in a moment later.
“Ah my sweet girl, let’s get you cleaned up.” She pulled my hands, forcing me to stand. I hadn’t said anything, just let her sit me on the toilet as she turned, grabbing a washcloth from the cabinet.
She wet it and wrung it out and then kneeled in front of me as she proceeded to wipe my tear-stricken face, humming something that sounded like Adele. After she’d wiped away my tears, she pinched my cheeks gently, standing up.
“Come with me, I have something to show you,” she helped me stand, and we walked out of the bathroom. I glanced towards the dining room to see the boys climbing over Cole’s shoulder while Karter made faces and some animal noises.
Reyna turned back towards the bedrooms, and I followed behind. She opened a small bedroom and on top of one of the bookshelves pulled out an old leather book.
She passed it to me wordlessly as she forced me to sit on the bed. “Thank you,” I murmured, not sure what to do with the book.
There was an engraving of a butterfly on the front, and the leather was worn as if the book had been opened a thousand times. I flipped open the cover, and my eyes landed on her name. Gabriella.
It was a scrapbook.
Reyna sat next to me as I flipped page after page, looking at the contents. Little baby footprints next to a small lock of hair. Little butterflies dotted the edges of the pages in blues, reds, pinks, and purples.
“We started this when she was five, although the footprints were something I had done when Cole charged me with her care,” Reyna spoke as my fingers lingered on the child’s drawings.
I stared in awe at the pages, and one made me pause; it was a photo of me. I’d been in a purple sundress next to a beach, my hair wet from the ocean water and sand coated my legs. I blinked, trying to remember where this was taken or by whom, but I was drawing a blank. I traced the image, and underneath the photo was a small child writing.
My mommy is the prettiest lady in the whole world. She looks like an angel, and she’s wearing my favorite color. I love mommy. Mommy visits me in my dreams, and we dance and play together.
I swiped at the tears falling down my face as I shut the book closed. Holding it tightly to my chest.
“She knew me?” I asked Reyna after I had managed to stifle the tears.
“Of course, she knew you. She use to say that she felt you watching over her. Cole always talked about you to her—” she paused, giving me a tight hug.
“Gabriella knew you would have been here in an instant.” She confirmed, and I just sat there crying on her shoulder. Letting the older woman take my pain away.
I stayed there as the sun dipped below the horizon, letting her hum comfort me. Her strength lent me strength as I broke down.
At some point Cole came in and picked me up, and I clung to his neck as he held me. He leaned down to kiss Reyna’s cheek and tell her something I didn’t quite hear.
I fell asleep on the car ride back, and something nagged at my subconscious that things might be too late.
36
I’M SO TIRED
“Scar are you awake?” I asked my eyes, seeking him out in the dim moonlight.
“Yeah, why aren’t you sleeping?” He hummed. I couldn’t sleep. Not really. I had been so afraid of sleep since they’d tried to drown me. My eye stayed latched on the cell doorfor hours until my body forced me to sleep. I looked at him and then back at the cell door.
“Do you think they’ll come back? I’m so tired.” I whispered to him. My stomach had gotten worse; the pain continued day after day, as if I were being eaten from the inside out. Scar noticed it too; they’d fed us less and less when they found out Scar was sharing his portions with me. He kept saying that it was fine, that he would be okay without the extra food, but I saw how he looked. His face was sunken in and his muscles weren’t as big as when he first came here.
“I don’t know trouble, you seemed to upset the big man more than usual,” he sighed, the chain rattling a bit as he came closer to our shared bars.
“Good, I hate him.” I said, crossing my hands across my chest.
Scar chuckled, it was a deep, throaty sound, “Are you warm enough?” he asked.
