Page 75 of Butterfly

When she limps out of the shot, the screen goes dark after a few seconds. It lights up again. The camera must be one of those that records only when there’s movement. Two police officers pace around the sitting room. The man’s legs and feet are still there.

“Hell.” The male officer stands where little Sienna was a moment ago, his face scrunched up in disgust. “Must’ve been a quick death.”

The female officer crouches right in front of the camera, her concerned face filling the screen. “There’s a camera here. I think it’s recording.” She reaches out, and the screen goes black.

I lean back on my chair, a strong pounding beating behind my eyes. The fucking bastard. Bitter bile burns the back of my mouth, and I’m rushing to the bathroom. My head spins as I empty my stomach into the toilet. After I wipe my mouth and wash my face with shaky hands, I walk to Sienna’s room, feeling as if I’m getting a cold.

She’s curled up in bed under the quilt, trembling. When I enter and close the door behind me, she sits upright. “Did you watch it?”

Pain is gripping my throat. I can only nod.

She clutches the quilt over her chest. “Do you want me to leave?”

“What?” Like in a dream when everything is muffled—or maybe a nightmare—I cross the room and sit next to her. “Leave?”

“I killed him.” Another shiver courses through her.

“Hell, Sienna.” I gather her in my arms and hold her, careful not to touch her injured shoulder. Her heart is beating at a fast tempo against my chest as she shudders. “It was an accident.”

“No.” She closes her fists. “I wanted him dead when I pushed him. I wanted him to die—to suffer. I hated him.”

“I hate him too. But I’m sorry he’s gone because I wish I could kill him myself. You did what you had to do to protect yourself.” I kiss her cheek and cup her face, needing to see her. “You were a kid and survived that hell. I can only be proud of you, of your strength, and of your courage. I don’t want you to leave. Ever. I want you to stay with me.”

A single tear flows down her cheek. I wipe it with my lips, tasting its saltiness. And after that, I can’t stop. I kiss her cheeks, eyes, lips, and every inch of her I can reach, wanting to take all her pain. Her shivers die down, and the knot in her back loosens. She rests her head on my shoulder, letting out a long sigh.

It dawns on me. All this time, she’s been worried I would’ve dumped her after I learned about her past. All that tension and worry must have worn her out.

I kiss her again, more gently. “You worried for no reason.” I brush her hair back from her neck. “What happened to you isn’t going to take me away from you.”

She hugs me tightly with her arms and legs around me. I caress her hair and back until her breathing comes softly and her muscles slacken. I pull her closer and lie down on the bed with her on top of me.

“Why the video though?” I ask, stroking her.

“He had dozens of them, of him beating people, beating me.” She inhales. “At first, it was only a slap. A slap turned into a punch, then punches and kicks. He enjoyed my fear. He told me that if I talked with anyone, he would’ve killed me. He was a copper, well respected. No one would’ve believed me, he said. I believed him.” She pauses for a long time. “When the police discovered his videos, they realised other officers were involved in group beatings. It was chaos.”

“What happened to you afterwards?”

“I was acquitted of manslaughter. It all happened rather quickly. I remember those days as a blur of activity. My foster mother became my guardian until I turned eighteen, but I didn’t see her after the trial, and she didn’t search for me, thank goodness. I was happy at school.”

“You aren’t a murderer,” I whisper, running my fingers through her hair. “What happened isn’t your fault.”

“I-I know,” she stammers. “On a logical, rational level, I understand that. It was a fight for survival. He attacked me. I reacted to defend myself. But on an emotional level…” Her voice cracks. “It’s so hard. It hurts so much. And I’m scared all the time.”

I hold her more tightly, kissing her cheek and lips. “I’m here.” That’s all I can tell her. I want to protect her from her demons, from the pain, and from her past. Wrapped by the semidarkness, we share our warmth and breath until she doesn’t shiver anymore.

~ * ~

HUNGER WAKES ME up like a punch in the stomach. I’m in Sienna’s bed, my arms around her waist. The bed sheets are tangled around us. Her back is pressed against my chest in a mess of hair and clothes. Not a sound comes from downstairs or the street. My stomach lets out a groan of protest, loud enough to wake up Sienna. Brushing her hair out of the way, I kiss her neck. Another rumble comes from my stomach.

She stirs in my arms and turns around. “Hungry?”

“Very. You?”

“Same.”

I stroke her shoulder and take a moment to drink her in, her bedraggled hair, her rosy cheeks, and that softness that always surrounds her. A lump swells in my throat as the sight of her scars flashes across my mind. I’d do anything to keep her safe and happy. “Would you like to come down to the kitchen with me?”

She nods and stretches her arms over her head. Her bra appears from above the quilt, and my gaze dips to it.

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