AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I think of the butterfly still tucked safely against my wrist, its little body I crushed with my fingers. I think of the others folded in my notebook back in my room, the one hidden in a hole in my mattress.
Chills spiral down my spine as other memories threaten to rise, ones filled with sticky warmth and vacant dishwater eyes and flashing red and blue lights.
One…two…
I don’t need a psychiatrist or a courtroom to tell me I’m dangerous.
“What do you say, Aston?” Tillie asks, eyes narrowed, almost like she’s testing me.
You’re gonna fail, a voice singsongs, one that sounds a lot like mine.
Or rather that…thing inside me.
Its promise settles inside me like a boulder, and yet…
Glancing down at the table, I feel a small smile creep up my face. “Do you think they’ll let me join Drama Club?”
When I peek my gaze up through my lashes, I find her blinking, gaping, clearly not having expected that.
But then she throws her head back, letting out that twinkling laugh of hers that never fails to make me feel all gooey. Softening up all the sharp things inside me.
Tilting my head, I watch the way the tendons in her neck stand out, as if begging for my fingers to crush them. Just like my butterflies.
My mouth waters at the thought, at the images playing out in my head. My heart pounds, fingers trembling as I dig my nails into my palms, imagining it’s her skin breaking open for me. It’s just…so…smooth.
It should be a crime for skin to be so smooth and soft-looking and blemish-free.
But I quickly shove it all down, way down, where no one, least of all me, will find it.
Tillie’s good, I remind myself, remind that thing inside me, the thing that isn’t right.
We like Tillie. We want to keep her.
And like hell, if I’m not going to make the best of this chance at normalcy while I can.
Who knows? Maybe this is just what I need.
A fresh start.
Shucks, maybe I’ll even get voted Prom Queen.
2
VALE
One Month Later
“Riviera, go long!”
It takes me a split second longer than it should to realize that means me, and I quickly run to catch the unexpected pass.
You’d think after five years, I’d be used to my new last name. Hell, it’s printed across my jersey, taped across my locker. I write it on every test and paper, and hear it shouted and cheered at every single game.
It should be as apart of me as my first name.
It shouldn’t feel like a lie.
Loud whoops go out around the field as I catch a perfect spiral. Rolling my eyes, I toss the football behind me, not waiting to see who will stumble forward to catch it.
