One shot

Butterfly

(Lazy Thriller)

I was five when my mother told me that butterflies were the most beautiful thing among all the insects and I couldn't help but agree. Butterflies were truly a mesmerizing creation of God with their colorful wings freely flapping thru the wind as they explore the land without any restraint. As I get to know them I grew to adore them.

I was ten when I started despising butterflies. Why? They have more freedom than me, much more prettier than me which is unacceptable. I'm a human and they're just lowly insect, why do they have something I should have. I then started catching them, pining their gorgeous wings to a board to place it on my wall to admire and laugh how helpless they are.

The beautiful thing who carelessly flying as they enjoy their freedom went into a hopeless little thing stuck in the board I put them in. How laughable it is, are they not?

I was thirteen when I met my beloved butterfly. She was in our school garden dancing. When my eyes landed on her, I couldn't breathe on how mesmerizing she is. The way her eyes sparkle when the light hits, the way that her hair and clothes dance alongside her and the wind. She was mesmerizing.

I was fourteen when everyone around us wanted my butterfly. All those insects wasn't worthy of being near her, much less breath the same air as her. It burns my blood whenever a disgusting insects have the guts totalks to her, to touch her. She's mine, mine to touch, mine to talk, mine and only mine.

I was fifteen when I started putting on traps around her. I couldn't take it anymore, those insects were taking her away from me. One by one all those insects drop by all the traps I made. Turning their back on my precious butterfly while I comfort her. Manipulating her that I'm the only one she needs.

I was sixteen when I finally let my hands dirty. I personally gauge the eyes on an insect when they were looking at my butterfly in a lustful way. The other one lost their arms for touching her inappropriately. While the other either lost their heads, tongue, teeth, or other parts of their body.

I was seventeen when I tortured our teacher for failing her. That insect was satisfying, the way he screams when I pull out his nails one by one were music to my ears. After his nails I started cutting off his limbs, I started with his arms which I got rewarded by his 'wonderful' compliments, only after I cut off his other arm on where he went silent. How weak, he died so easily. I mean so is the others.

I was eighteen when I burned my butterfly's house with her family in it because they were forcing my butterfly to go abroad. I can't have that, no, no, absolutely not. They will not take my butterfly away from me.

I was nineteen when my butterfly started distancing herself from me. I ask her why, she only answered me that I'm being too much. What does that mean? I'm just protecting her as my lover.

I was twenty when she tried to escape me. My poor butterfly if you didn't tried to escape your legs would still be working. Thankfully I have a meat tenderizer besides my bed.

I was twenty one when I finally got my butterfly pinned in a board, hanging in my bedroom wall. How pretty she look with a long white dress, purple lips and snow White pale skin. How peaceful she looks. The slash on her neck suits her the most, it was my mark after all. My beautiful sweet little butterfly, you are mine forever. I promise you we will be reunited in our next live my beloved butterfly. For now, hang in that wall while I admire your gorgeous corpse.