Disclaimer: 'I am Legend' is not mine
Butterfly
'Look Daddy, it's a Butterfly.'
Lieutenant Neville watched the creatures on the other side of the glass roaring and snarling…things that had once been human…which could have been him, but his eyes weren't really focused on them. He stared at the glass with its spider web of cracks beauty in the imperfection as each shard refracted the light differently and glittered.
A butterfly.
Signs, symbols, messages…knowing.
It was so out of place here. Beauty in death. A butterfly in a bomb site.
'Look Daddy, a butterfly.'
Neville glanced down at Anna and Nathan huddled together, sobbing fake words of soothing reassurance. Another butterfly danced on the smooth skin of her neck. Everything dimmed. Every sound muted.
'Listen'
He was listening. He was seeing. He knew. He was so close to fixing it, but what he needed to fix was standing in his way. They were preventing their own cure.
'You just need to listen.'
There was no way out of this, but if they died then the cure would die with them.
Butterflies symbolised souls. It was incredible how something so beautiful and fragile had become linked to a thing as morbid as death.
'Look Daddy. A butterfly.'
The soul of his daughter appeared to him now in this place of darkness, purity in the evil, etched into the glass, into Anna's skin, and gave him the message that he could no longer ignore.
He wanted to fix it and this was the only way to do it.
And with that conviction in mind he pulled the pin from the grenade.