A.N: Why do bad things happen? So have a way to start a chapter that's been giving me hell. I know you guys want them longer and I'm also sorry it took so long to update but right now is kind of a turbulent time. In about 2 weeks I may start updating quickly again and I'll try to make the chapters even longer. I have the outline for chapter 12 already but right now I just don't have the free time to write steadily. You may see other little stories from me though. Writing is now my escape now. I hope I can hold you interest for a little bit longer with this story. I sincerely hope you stick around until the end. Thank you.
When Butterflies Die: Chapter 11
It was so dark. Like an infinite abyss. Holding her hand 5 inches away from her face and only seeing the largest of the features on it. Sometimes she'd hear her foster parents. She heard them getting in and out of the other car, coming back from running errands and such. Part of her punishment she supposed. They usually did as little as possible. She was so damn cold. She couldn't feel anything anymore. The shivering had stopped a while ago. That's always a bad sign. But she welcomed the cold. Her shallow breathing made the acrid smell of ammonia less potent.
Without a doubt this was the worst Christmas break ever. From the beginning. The day after break started they revoked her phone privileges for back talking. She hadn't talked to Seeley for almost a week now. By now he would be visiting family in Maine. She knew he called for her, what her foster parents said to him she didn't know. He had only called twice since then.
She wondered what he would do if he knew she was locked in this trunk. If she had been paying attention she wouldn't even be here. She had been thinking about how much she had missed him while standing over the sink while recover from her latest argument with her foster parents over something she could only remember as petty. Her foster father had thrown her into the kitchen yelling at her to get the kitchen done. She should have been thinking about the dishes, instead she was lamenting at how long it would be before she got to see him again. She didn't know that the water would be so hot. As soon as her hand hit it her autonomic system took over and her hand flew away from the scalding water and the plate slipped from her grip. The wince turned into a gasp as she tried to rescue the plate before it hit the ground. Nothing in this house was to get broken, or you will be punished. It was a firmly established rule.
All other sounds receded from her as the plate shattered and the pieces skid in every direction across the floor. The footsteps of her foster father were even louder. She stood frozen over the plate. She was petrified. Her foster father appeared in the entryway of the kitchen looking absolutely venomous. She looked up at him and began apologizing profusely. What else could she do? When he advanced on her she tried backing away but his strides were too big for her to be able to get any significant distance between them.
"You little spiteful bitch!" He bellowed at her. "What did we tell you about breaking our things? "Come on, let's go" He said yanking her arm, dragging her, protesting, across the floor
"No!" She screamed finally pulling her arm free and running in whichever direction would get her away from him. Within moments she felt his hand around her arm again stopping her and throwing her against the nearest wall. Her breath flew out of her and she fell to the ground. He straddled her, sneering at her that she was a worthless piece of shit. Her vision blurred as her eyes filled with tears, she couldn't even think to not give him the satisfaction and her vision began to darken around the blurring.
When she awoke other than being cold, she felt fine. She always thought that heaven would be brighter, and that hell would be a little hotter. She came to the conclusion that it was neither warm enough nor bright enough for either, so she couldn't be dead. That's when she heard the garage door open the first time and her mind deduced that she was in the trunk of the car.
She felt the pull of unconsciousness. She shouldn't sleep. But the thought of never waking up again seemed so appealing at this moment. Then she thought about Seeley, He would be back soon, and Christmas break would be over soon, she would see him again. At the thought she willed her mind to stay awake, but it was having none of it. She just hoped that she would actually wake up.
She definitely woke up. When her foster mother finally opened the trunk everything overwhelmed her. The smells, but mostly the sunlight that bombarded her overly sensitive eyes. Her vision swam and she had to take a moment to squelch the nausea threatening her. Her foster mother helped her out of the car trunk and held her steady until she was sure she could stand on her own. She told her to go wash up and change her clothes. It was the gentlest she had ever heard her foster mother, for a reason unbeknownst to Temperance it comforted her beyond words and when she looked into her eyes she saw something akin to remorse. As she looked back to her prison she noted that her foster father had the foresight to put plastic sheeting under her. "How thoughtful" she thought sarcastically.
In the bathroom she looked at her reflection and felt the nausea from earlier rising again. Her hair was matted slightly from dried blood from a superficial cut on her forehead. She was pale as a newt and she didn't know how long she was in that trunk but it she was a lot thinner and she was thin in the first place. She looked like a ghost. She turned away from the mirror quickly. Apparently too quickly and she ran for the toilet dry heaving. Once the retching had stopped she sat at the edge of the tub trying to cool herself from throwing nothing up. She stripped and grabbed the razor sitting on top of her fresh clothes and sat on the toilet. She pressed it to the inside of her leg watching as the crimson flooded from her body. Feeling the euphoria take over she sat back against the back of the toilet. Sometimes she missed this feeling. She hadn't done this is so long. Since Seeley asked her not to… Tears sprang to her eyes again as she looked down at her leg. She let the tears fall clearing her vision and she looked down at her arm hoping against hope that the butterflies she drew only a few days ago had rubbed off completely. She felt like sobbing when she saw the wings of one still there. The only thought she had as she stood under the spray of the shower washing off the injudiciousness of her punishment was that she had let him down.