I think one of the reasons I tried to bring Mom back was just my guilt. Things were always easier when I had her to share how I felt, and she would comfort me because she never felt the guilt like I did. I don't know how she did it, because the guilt of what she…we did haunts everything I do. The nightmares still come, reminding me of what happened. Especially when I happen to see a butterfly fluttering past. That's the worse. It sounds silly now though…after all I've been through…
It all started when I was about 6 years old. Al was outside playing in the yard. I was inside, talking with my mom. She was telling me the story of how she got her butterfly wings. That's what we all called this beautiful hairpin my dad got for her long ago, when he actually lived with us. It was this long, silver pin with a crystal butterfly crafted on it, its lengthy wings stretched out far, a dark orange with a black spotted trim that complimented her hair nicely. I probably will never forget how beautiful it was…
I had loved looking at it; it looked so delicate even though I longed to touch it. I know it probably bothered her that I kept asking when I knew she would refuse but…I dunno, I just really liked it.
I was happy that day though, because she was finally letting me hold it. I jumped from my seat at the table and ran to her side, eagerly holding out my hands. She smiled gently, plucking it from her auburn locks and placing it into my palm.
I gasped in wonder, holding it closer so I could examine it better. Now I could finally see the fragile body of the butterfly beneath its massive wings, see the smallest gems poked into every black segment, ending in two antennae where two dots of emerald green jewels shone proudly in the light.
I smiled at it, starting to give it back when it slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor with a soft, tinkling sound. The smile slid off both of our faces. My heart dropped as I stared down at the pin, the butterfly cracked in half and off the pin.
"…I'm sorry…" I whispered softly, hiding my face behind my gold bangs.
She was silent for a while. My heart felt like breaking as I watched her. But finally she mustered up a weak smile. "It's okay, Edward." She replied reassuringly, acting as though it didn't bother her, though I could see the glimmer of shining tears in the corner of her eyes. I started feeling terrible all over again, until I remembered my alchemy.
"I can fix it." I told her joyously, grabbing a sheet of paper and the marker I was using before. I stared hard at the broken pin, slowly drawing out the transmutation circle needed to fix it. It had to be perfect after all, when it came to alchemy there couldn't be any flaws. Especially for this. After I finished it, I bent down and scooped all the pieces up, wincing when the sharp pin pierced slightly into my hand.
I placed them in the middle of the small circle and patted my small hands on it, closing my eyes and reciting the words from Dad's textbook in my mind. Allow the alchemic energy to run through your body in a current, straight through your fingertips, activating the alchemy. There was a small zap of gold light, and under a puff of smoke, the butterfly wings sat looking as perfect as ever.
I heard my mom gasp, pulling me back into a warm hug. "Thank you…" She had whispered into my ear before pulling away, clutching the pin close to her heart. I smiled at her, happy that I hadn't messed this up. That's when the small tinkling music of the wind chimes at the door sounded. She looked up, her eyes slightly confused. She got up to answer the door.
I sat back on my chair and waited for her, swinging my legs around while admiring the transmutation circle I had drawn, excited to tell Al that I was able to transmute something so perfectly on my own. I heard a new voice come into the quiet of the house and flinched when I recognized it to be one of our neighbors. Mrs. Frou, an elderly woman who was then a widow after her husband died at the war. She had short, shoulder length salt and pepper hair, though mostly salt, and pale, piercing blue eyes behind clashing red rims of her wide glasses. I hated looking at her eyes; it always looked like they saw right through me.
My mom and Mrs. Frou both came back into the room, my mom looking through the cabinets for something. I flinched again, feeling the old anger I usually got when she came to visit. Mrs. Frou was just some old bat who abused my mom's kindness by taking things from her and insults her about something she had done wrong, even when it was usually her who was wrong.
"I don't even know how or why you fell in love with the bastard, he's never home. Why, in all my years…" She rambled on. I saw my mom hesitate as she usually did when they talked about him. I wished that she would shut up.
"Here you go, Delilah." Mom mumbled, finally pushing a small cup of sugar into the lady's hands. She nodded, glancing at me as if not noticing the sugar. "Leaving behind two young boys, no doubt he's off with another woman, mark my words…"
I stared hard at the wooden table, concentrating hard on swaying my legs to the rhythm of the clock in the kitchen. Back, forth, back, forth…
"No…he's going to come back…" Mom whispered, fingering her pin around. Mrs. Frou snorted, now eyeing the pin. "Ugh, you're still carrying that piece of junk around? Haven't I told you a thousand times before, that man probably just bought that thing cheap off a flea market or something, the rotten scoundrel."
"He did not!" I yelled, jumping to my feet. Sure, I never liked my dad for abandoning us, but she had no right…!
"Sorry you feel that way." She replied calmly, stepping closer. The next thing surprised me completely, I barely even saw it. One moment they were just standing in front of each other, the next Mrs. Frou was falling back and making this terrible choking sound. I gasped when I saw the crystal pin protruding from her throat. She fell back, her whole form twitching as she tried to get up again.
My mom motioned me forward, bending down in front of her. I stiffly followed her silent orders, wondering what she wanted me to do. She took my hand in hers and pulled them over the pin, making me push it further down. My eyes widened as she nodded and let me go, standing up with a strange look in her stormy eyes. I looked desperately up at her as Mrs. Frou writhed under my trembling hands. She smiled in an understanding way, once again pressing her bloody hands on mine. We both pushed harder and harder, blood occasionally spurting out just to be caught by our hands before after what seemed like forever, Mrs. Frou stopped moving around and took in one last shuddering breath.
Chills went down my spine. Mom quickly let go and straightened herself, glancing down at the body. I was also staring at her, or more of, her face. Her red glasses were askewer, her glassy eyes staring at me with a horrified look that probably made my heart stop right there.
She sighed. "Would've been better if she closed her eyes…" She muttered to herself. "Come Ed…we have to get rid of the body…" Mom started picking her up and dragging her from the room. I followed dazedly, as we went into the backyard where Al wasn't present. She pointed to a patch of dirt near the lettuce and I started digging. I finished quickly, scrambling over to my mother, who was staring longingly at her pin.
That's when I finally noticed it. The butterfly was still completely intact, but still different. The color of the blood seemed to dye its beautiful wings, making it a deep red brown color; the white spots in the black trim were a complete blood red. The butterfly sat on Mrs. Frou's pale throat like a ghastly butterfly of death. That sounds so stupid now that I think of it, after all I've been through but, I was only 6. That's what I thought of it as.
"Oh…how pretty…" Mom breathed out, stroking it slightly. She had started to tug it out of the corpse when she thought against it. I now understand why; seeing as days after the incident the police were about, looking for what happened. That would've been evidence.
My mom and I pushed the body into the hole I made and proceeded in burying it, then spreading more lettuce seeds over it to hide it more. I vowed to never eat lettuce again in my life, just the thought of it was…disgusting. As we did, my mom was telling me never to tell anyone of what we had done. I agreed. I wasn't going to tell anyone anyway. Especially Al. What was he to think? He thought of Mom as a perfect angel. She couldn't wear the shadow of blood and death behind her…
-
Ed had fallen asleep, still clutching the quickly sprawled note in his hand. Al had seen it. He was curious of what it was, and gently wrenched it from his sleeping grasp.
He now held the small piece of paper in his shuddering, heavy hands, staring down at it in horror and rereading it once, twice, just to see if he had missed something. He looked back at his sleeping brother, hearing him moan in his sleep, muttering something about butterflies. He for once, was glad the tears didn't come as he stifled a heart breaking sob.