they continue to ask if she's alright, slowly picking through her layers of painted insincerity. every time they ask, they get a bit closer to the truth.
"are you okay?"
"i'm just fine. peachy, even!" she snarls, gulping down a strangled scream of rage.
"are you okay?"
"i'm fine, obviously!" she snips, giving the inquirer a half-hearted glare.
"are you okay?"
"i'm fine." she says, picking at her fingernails, not meeting their gaze.
"are you okay?"
"i'm alright." she whispers, more to herself than the other person, tears pooling in her eyes.
and then...
what then, what then, what then?
she stops caring for the people around her. she stops answering. she stops being human.
everything stops.
she stops eating, she stops caring, she stops running, she stops sleeping, she stops loving...
the only thing that doesn't stop is the ever present storm inside her skull.
"are you okay?" goes unanswered. she emits an icy aura and struggles with a void in her heart. people start avoiding the girl.
the sweet little angel she was is gone.
"try these. they'll take the pain away, make you numb." the man at the drugstore says while she complains to her mom about her never ending headache over the phone. numb would be nice. she forgets she had morality once and
she
lets
go.
at school the next day, she skips class and pushes concerned people away. they back off, muttering about how much of a freak she is.
i don't even care anymore.
slamming doors, twisting locks. bees sting her at school. the blue things in her pocket look like jellybeans, which makes her giggle.
i always did like candy. before...
before, before, before.
before her story ends.
it ends soon, too.
she pops a few jellybeans in her mouth.
it's a system, you see. there's method to her madness, the madness that's consumed her innocent self.
jellybeans to take the pain away.
bee stings to make a reason for them.
who cares about class? who cares about grades? who cares about happiness? who cares about people?
w h o c a r e s?
she doesn't.
not anymore.
i used to care, though. i promise, i really, really did.
oh, but who cares what you used to do?
who cares?
no one cared
no one cares
no one ever cares
and
no
one
ever
will.
not about her.
one night, she's had enough with the pointless attempts to fix the problem at hand.
she takes her red pen, like the one that drew her first butterfly, and she spins a story to be remembered...
______________________________________
One chapter left...
YOU ARE READING
Dead Butterflies
Short Story****TRIGGER WARNING**** This is written for a boy who never cared and for a girl I used to know I'm a dying butterfly in love with a beautifully broken soul But it never made a difference to my fragile little wings I thought I would get over it but...
