Butterfly Chapter 1

I woke up long before the sun, I had probably only slept an hour, at most. My eyes strained make out where he fell asleep. There was a lump in his covers, but it didn’t look right. Too tired to get up, I called out his name. No answer. Nobody knew we were here, that is to say nobody here knew who we were.

I tried to fall back asleep but I couldn’t. Something was wrong. I called for him again, this time I heard a tap on the window and a pair of dark brown eyes stared at me.

“What the hell Lewis!? You trying to give me a heart attack!?” My hand involuntarily rose to my chest. “ Come back in here or someone might notice you.” I scolded.

“So? To them I look like an ordinary guy, just like you look like an ordinary girl.”

“I am an ordinary girl” I countered while opening the window for him.

“Fine,” he said as he crawled back into the room, “But you can’t say that cool Autumn night air isn’t inviting.”

It was, and I didn’t do a good job of hiding it. I hadn’t been out at night in almost a year.

“The stars look gorgeous.” He continued looking out the open window.

“Lewis! You know I can’t go out there! Why do you have to tempt me like that.” I was almost whining.

“Why not, Nobody knows who we are here, nobody is looking for us.”

“We can’t know for sure.” I closed the window and folded my arms across my chest.

He sat down on his bed shifting the pillows he’d used to imitate the shape of his body. “And knowing the future can hardly count as ordinary.” he said as he winked at me.

“I don’t… I don’t want to talk about this right now, I just want to get some sleep for one night.” I said exasperated.

“No surprise there,” he mumbled. “You never want to talk about it.”

“Maybe you like being sleep deprived, but that’s not something I cope with well.” I clenched my jaw to keep from yelling. “Good night.”

“Nope, you get grouchy.” I could tell he was smiling even without looking at him.

“So we agree, good night.”

“See you with the sun, Butterfly.”

“Don’t call me Butterfly.” My mouth suddenly dried.

“Ladybug?

“What? No.”

“You know no matter what you say I’m going to keep calling you butterfly, right?”

“Why?” I regretted the question even before the word flew off my tongue.

“Your tattoo,” he said through smiling teeth.

“It’s not a tattoo. If anything, it’s a scar.” I tried to keep my voice from quivering.

“Whatever you say little Butterfly.”

“Why can’t you just call me Tabitha like everyone else?” I asked through a yawn, disappointed about how light it sounded.

“Because dear Butterfly, I’m not like everyone else. Good night.” He fluffed the pillows under his head, rolled over and with that he began snoring lightly.

I yawned and rubbed my eyes, tossing and turning until I was cocooned in my blanket. I couldn’t help but think about how I got my butterfly, scar. What it meant. My past. I guess Lewis was kind of right about one thing, I know the future, even if I can’t tell it, I’ve seen it.

 

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