The rain pattered on the windows of her house on Elm Street. The woods around it looked grey and haunting. Now and then, a flash of lightning would strike the ground; lighting the trees that stood tall and thick.
She sat near the fireplace. Her dark black hair spread over the length of her back. Her scarred skin looked white and chilled; betraying the fact that it was soft and warm to the touch. Her brown eyes fixed on the fire, her sharp striking features appearing dull in its light. She looked lost in thought, as if each flicker of the fire revived a new memory in her mind; memories that made her cringe.
As the fire danced on its own, a scene played in the back of her mind. A warm October day, autumn leaves red and orange lay all over the path ahead of her. She walked along it, her brunette sun hat tilted over her head; her long hair that showed from beneath it swayed as the wind rushed through them. Her long skirt matched the color of Autumn; blending perfectly into the aura that surrounded her. She walked with her usual grace; each step light and steady.
He walked with her; strong in stature, hands in the pockets of his black jeans; having no trouble in matching her pace.
He looked handsome.
Dangerously handsome.
"Abigale," he said. His voice was strong, reflecting dominance. He had paused now, his dark head bent over, his deep green eyes examining something on the ground.
"Hmmm?" Abigale paused and turned around.
He picked something up, clenched it in his fist with his usual strength, and walked over to her. She stood with her brows furrowed in curiosity. What would he have now? She wondered. In their two years together, she had never been able to predict his actions. Sometimes they were dangerous; but mostly they were deadly.
He opened his fist, and she saw it; black wings dotted with red, crushed and squashed. It lay still on the palm of his hand; a dead butterfly. Abigale inhaled a sharp breath.
"Mika!" His name escaped her lips, her words dipped in shock and dismay. He had done this on purpose, and she knew it.
He stood smiling, his right cheek spotted with a dimple, his green eyes boring into her brown ones; threatening and mocking. He knew she loved butterflies, he had seen her running after them, playful and happy. She knew he always did things that were against her will. In their two years together he had been mystic.
And dangerous.
Another boom of thunder brought her back to her house in Elm street. She exhaled a shaky, tired breath and walked towards the window. The storm still raged on, outside and within her. It had been a year now, yet she struggled to disconnect him from her thoughts, wishing the rain would wash away all the memories she had of him. The scars he had left on her skin still burned, and the wounds in her heart still ached.
She could not erase that memory; her screams and his laughter. It was the first time she had seen the wild beast inside of him come out, and it was the last she ever saw of him. She had run then; from his torments and for her life.
Another boom of thunder jerked her back to the present, but she did not move.
She stood there; waiting for the memories to play in her head, in the same sequence they did everyday. She stood waiting, for her wounds to burn and her heart to scream again; with the pain those memories always brought with them.
