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chapter twenty-five / season three episode twenty.
BUTTERFLIES WERE FRAGILE THINGS. Amelia loved butterflies, ever since she was a child and she'd spend hours upon hours in her backyard watching a butterfly flutter down onto a rock, their patterned wings and vibrant colors catching her attention. A young Amelia would then rush inside the house to grab a pencil, paper and the exact same colors as the butterfly to draw it herself.
Butterflies calmed Amelia like nobody else could, and she'd spent so many hours on her knees just watching the peaceful insects. She didn't dare move too loudly, or breathe too harshly. She never imagined scaring a butterfly, or doing anything that may damage its wings. She kept them safe, and she was sure many other kids kept butterflies safe.
But, they couldn't do it as well as she could.
When no-one was watching she'd rip up her neighbors flowers and place them near the butterfly, she'd made sure all her movements were near enough silent and that the insect might even eat some of flower.
The only time Amelia's bedroom had been decorated with a characteristic of her choice was when she was seven, and her begging had tired Thomas and Martha Levine out. The begging for the purple walls and the butterfly decals, ornaments and paintings. She wanted everything and anything in her bedroom to have some form of butterfly on, because Amelia knew she'd never get bored of the insect. How could she? Every butterfly you came across was different and special.
Amelia often thought she was like a butterfly. The fragility and delicacy with how butterflies were handled was often something she wished to be handled with, and she hoped someone out there cared as much about her as she cared about butterflies. Amelia was fragile, and if you spoke too loudly and inched too close she'd fly away, she'd find somewhere else to be from.
She could float around just as well as a butterfly. Moving state to state just like a butterfly flew from flower to flower.
Butterflies were symbols of socialites. Amelia didn't possess that quality, but she was fine with that. Because, in every other aspect she was a butterfly. Maybe that was why she loved them so much; the fact she was just like them.
Amelia wished she could've flown away when someone inched too close or got too loud but she couldn't, and maybe she'd be jealous of butterflies in that aspect. Maybe as she'd gotten older, she'd fallen out of love with butterflies because she didn't see them around anymore.
Amelia couldn't tell you the last time she spotted a butterfly. She wanted to, though. She wanted one to land on her skin and tickle the hairs on her arms and make her giggle like that child back in her backyard all over again. Amelia wanted to be reminded of that beauty, delicacy and the fleeting power a butterfly had.
