My Little Butterfly

Chapter1: *Little Butterfly*

I woke up, my t-shirt was drenched in sweat. I had one of the same dreams I had every night at the same time.

03:03

In most cases, I am able to recall where I was and what I was doing in the dream. I remember the faces, the voices, the screaming. My feet are dragging on the cold tiles of a hospital, it's not empty, and it's nighttime. I can hear machines buzzing, quiet talking, and phones ringing at the reception desk. The right side of my body is holding an IV and I feel as though it will burst through my rib cage. I am in a hospital gown, and I am clutching it tightly.

My heart is racing so fast that I fear it will burst through my rib cage if I don't hold it. In fact, it is rather cold today, not only the tiles I am walking on barefoot, but the air itself is so cold that I can see my reflection in the clouds as I walk.

I stopped, the loud sound of beeping made the blood in my veins freeze, one of the rooms I was passing by had their lights flickering, and I was scared for an unknown reason. But I went in. It's a normal hospital room with one bed, a table next to it, and a one-door closet in the far corner. White lilies are placed in a vase on the table with a teddy bear, and then I notice the kid lying on the bed. She is on a breathing machine, tubes sticking out of her mouth and nose, her golden hair in a braid.

The machine won't stop beeping and the multiple footsteps that are coming make me freeze in the position I am in, holding an IV pool next to the open door, while the machine keeps beeping. There were two nurses in the room and a doctor in his mid-fifties. I expected them to get me out of the room, but they didn't notice me.

I watched as they began working with her.

A nurse with a heart machine comes in while another is... another is in a hospital gown for the little girl. They are trying to help, but there is nothing. As the machine continues to beep for a while before the flat line appears.

"Time of death, 03:03!"

One of the nurses announced something, and I fought the urge to fall as the sound of shifting and moving chairs caught my attention.

"They knew I was going to die; they just wanted to give it a shot!"

I winced. The girl on the bed and the one sitting in the corner looked identical.

"This is not real!" I exclaimed, covering my mouth with my free hand to suppress my nausea.

"Death is as real as life. No one lives forever! We exist as long as necessary, not as long as desired. For one life to begin, another must end!"

I wake up at the same time I have since I was fifteen. The sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, blinding my left eye, and I try to shield it with my hand. I don't want to get up, groaning into my pillow, but I know I must-my aunt is waiting for me. As I leave the warmth of my bed, a chill runs down my spine, making me shiver. I slip on my slippers and head to the bathroom. In front of the mirror, the edge of my coat slips off, exposing the scars I've carried all my life, stirring feelings of shame. A wave of anger, agony, and self-loathing washes over me. I bite my lip, vowing not to cry again, and continue getting ready. My uncle is hosting an important dinner with clients, and he expects us to attend as ladies of the house.

The house was nearly silent, with servants scattered about-some setting wine bottles and glasses on tables, others holding rags and bed sheets. I wore a long, narrow silver dress that hugged my figure, featuring a high slit in the back. My large silver earrings and emerald necklace were gifts from my aunt. I smiled broadly as I watched my beautiful Aunt Diana in the foyer, chatting with a servant. She wore a dark green silk dress, her fiery red hair swept up with a few curls that reminded me of my mother. They resembled each other almost like twins. Sensing my gaze, she turned to me, and her light brown freckles stretched as she smiled.

"My dear niece," my aunt exclaimed as she approached. I made my way down the spiral staircase and embraced her warmly, the sound of our earrings resonating lightly together.

"The guests have arrived; your uncle is welcoming them downstairs in the living room. Come and join us!" With a gentle smile and her hand resting on my shoulder, we proceeded through the elegantly designed golden wooden corridors towards the grand mahogany door. For some inexplicable reason, I felt a sudden pang of anxiety and an unsettling sensation in my stomach, akin to preparing for a formal introduction to my uncle's business associates.

The servants opened the double-glazed door for us, and a thick cloud of Cuban cigar smoke wafted towards me, nearly making me cough. My uncle, a tall, slender man with a neatly trimmed black beard and thick, curly hair slicked back, rose from his leather chair with a broad smile.

"Oh, my God! My two little doves, come in!" he exclaimed, gesturing to himself, allowing me a moment to take in my surroundings. Everyone present was young, no older than 30 to 45 years. They all wore black suits, except for one. Our eyes locked, and a thrilling chill raced down my spine.

I felt every hair on my neck stand on end. His cold, grayish-blue eyes, which were framed by thick black eyebrows, held my attention. With a mere turn of his head, it seemed as though his chin could cut through the air with such a sharp definition. The black tattoos adorning his neck extended beyond the narrow black shirt he was wearing underneath the leather jacket and extended beyond his neckline.

I inhaled sharply, feeling the air catch momentarily in my throat, which forced me to cough violently. Standing before me was a rock of a man, approximately 6'6 and it captured my attention in an unexpected way. My uncle, noticing where my gaze was directed, turned to me and spoke with a warm smile,

"Hey Alisa, this is Zane Star, one of my oldest friends!" I stood there, momentarily stunned and somewhat taken aback by the introduction. It wasn't merely his physical appearance or charming demeanor that struck me; there was something particularly unsettling hidden within the depths of his icy eyes that made me uncomfortable. I couldn't quite identify what it was, but instinctively,

A feeling of bewilderment overwhelmed me as I realized that I was currently dealing with something menacing, something lurking beneath the surface, which I simply could not ignore.

Taking a deep breath, he said, "Nice to meet you, little butterfly," and his deep voice resonated in a manner that enveloped me like a firm embrace, sending a tingling sensation up and down my spine as it enveloped me.

As frank as I can be, I know in my heart that I am completely screwed, and that realization gnawed at the edges of my mind for quite some time.