"What do you think of this, my dear?" Erik gestured to a butterfly specimen on the wall.
"It's lovely," I replied, looking at the small orange and black winged creature pinned beneath the glass. It was a pretty little thing, and much easier to look upon than the unmasked face to which I had been subjected all day. It did not help that his exposed state was due entirely to my attempts at ingratiating myself with him.
"I'm not sure how long I have had it - the years run together - but it has been quite some time. I was still in the process of building this house when I found it. How such a tiny caterpillar ended up all the way down here, I cannot say."
From the corner of my eye, I could see that he was watching my face intently. Rather than turn to meet his gaze, I continued to study the butterfly. "That is strange," I commented.
"It was," he agreed. "I suppose I could have taken it above and let it go somewhere..."
Was he toying with me? I glanced at him briefly before turning back to the insect. I did not know how I could ever learn to read such a face, and I did not care to study it long enough to find out. "Why didn't you?"
"How could I?" he asked. "This small, helpless creature, hopelessly out of its depth, had crossed Erik's path... it needed me. If I had let it go, I would never have known if it lived or died." He paused in his speech for a moment. I glanced at him again. He was looking at the floor and his hands fluttered nervously at his sides. "I kept it in a large jar, and made sure it was fed. I gave it a little stick to climb so it could form its chrysalis. When it hatched, I always made sure it had fruit or flowers. I suspect that it lasted longer with me than it would have on its own. They are not long lived creatures, but I took very good care of it."
He must have, since it went from caterpillar to butterfly in his care, and had lived for some time after. "I can see that," I said.
"Can you?" His voice had a hopeful note in it.
"Yes," I answered, examining the creature's unblemished wings.
"So you understand?"
I nodded, unsuccessfully trying to blink back tears.
He was on his knees beside me in an instant. "Don't cry, Christine; Erik does not like it when you cry. I swear that I will always take the best care of you. You see how well I cared for my butterfly, and I love you so much more than I ever loved it. Anything you want, you shall have. Soon, you will not even miss the outside world!"
His fingers brushed the back of my hand for less than a second. I turned to face him, looking at him only long enough to ascertain that he, too, was crying.
"Please stop crying," he pleaded. "You are always pretty, but you are so much prettier when you are happy and smiling. Erik will make you happy again, you'll see."
"Forgive me," I said as I made an effort to dry my tears.
"You do understand, don't you?" He reiterated.
"I do," I confirmed. I wished I could rip the insect out of its case, and crush its colorful wings to dust, but I could never do that to him. The only thing I could do was hope that my lifespan in this place would not be much longer than a butterfly's.