Butterfly Nights
Cold Wind and Indiana Winters
The late October wind was crisp and carried a chill that could be felt deep within the marrow of my bones. The faint smell of smoke melted into the breeze as it swept past the once upon a time bright blue shingles of my childhood. Now weathered, worn, and cracked, the Indiana air whistled past a few loose slabs of my Great Aunts' roof, dipping into the clouded puffs of smoke as it slid the dusty aroma to my nose, even at the bottom of the wooded-and-oh-so-lopsided hill the smell was enough to make my stomach do flops.
"Lady- I said it'll be 72 bucks," the Taxi driver hissed his voice low and thickly accented.
I blinked, pressing hard on the up button, frowning as the car window moved in a lazy slow motion. My brain slipping back from a long forgotten place at his words. Turning away from the house I faced the man, now so close to my Great Aunt's house that the anticipation of the trip had finally hit me, the reality of my situation finally sinking 100% in.
"But the house is up there," I complained, hugging arms to thin sides- the bones pushing roughly against lightly clothed ribs brought little comfort or warmth. Anxious I wanted to delay this reality as much as possible. Even though I knew the taxi wouldn't be able to climb my Great Aunt's worn dirt path, I continued to persist. Biting into my bottom lip defiantly I shook my head at him as if this action meant total denial of his comment. The moment I left this taxi the spell of safety would be broken, and in my heart I knew there was no going back, New York City would just become another hodgepodge image of my life before, corrupted by a stupid half-thought out action and unchangeable events.
The driver eyed me with sarcastic amusement, his lips pulled back revealed tobacco stained teeth, "Ya' gonna pay for the $400 paint job?" he slurred, spit mingling with coarse laughter his thoughts jamming like a hot poker into my brain:
'Stupid rich white girls, with their flashy cloths and bitchy faces- should've left the' brat for Phil, have'em drive half way to hell and back for the little twit.'
His thoughts jutted off quickly my fists shoving the mixed ball of cash into his face almost at the speed off light as the familiar feeling pooled in my stomach, the dizzy tiredness suffocating me as I yanked on the handles of my suitcases freeing them from the cheap interior of the back seat.
Practically falling onto the dirt road that led up to the house I quickly understood his comments- the trees towered over the path their branches breaking off onto the dirt road, the taxi's thick sides and tall dome light would brush and scratch easily. Making the trip up the path would be more trouble than it was worth for him.
My knuckles turned white as they held tightly to the handles of my suitcases. My breath coming out in small white puffs as I watched with dismay, his taillights disappearing around a corner, taking him out of my sight.
Trust me when I say there wasn't a worry on his mind about leaving a teenage girl alone in a place with little to no cell reception on a dirt path on her way to a house that could have been in the next Saw installment.
Not that I didn't deserve to be here or anything... I did do it, and God knew I was guilty- no matter what my friends, classmates, mother's spin class, or the doctors' thought- I was responsible and I knew what I was doing when I was doing it... Oh Trent! If only I'd....
I stopped thinking- stopped breathing- squeezing my eyes shut I pushed the feelings away so violently that the spots in my vision took the form of fuzzy white butterflies, flapping away at my pupils. Taking a shaky step forward I almost tripped the hunger lapping at my veins as I shook my head, blonde strands slapped at wind burned cheeks.
Yanking on my hoodie I pulled tightly on the strings the fabric scrunching around my cheeks. My knuckles had turned a corpsie shade of white, the edges trimmed with a burnt red chapped from the cold-windy air. Wishing I'd brought gloves, I dreaded the trek up to the house.
In a normal family my Great Aunt would've been at the airport, a warm hug and helping hand in tow. In my family I had to catch a sketchy cab, and walk along a dark path alone on a freezing night.
Grinding my teeth I pulled the backpack strap over my shoulder a suitcase tight in hand and a pull along tripping behind me as I stumbled forward.
Leaves crunched under my sneakers as I half pulled, half dragged my luggage behind me. The small plastic wheels slipping against the cool foliage as I went. The wheels easily taking a wrong turn as they bumped along the path causing the heavy bag to flip from my fingers every few feet, my annoyed sighs seamlessly following it.
Letting out a huff I grumbled, wondering how my 80-something Great Aunt Diana could get around her property let alone how she got to town.
The trees whistled in the wind, my breath coming out in short puffs as I finally made it to the wooden front porch, the stairs creaking as I shuffled my bags up the chipped white painted planks, the house was a dump, even with my light only coming from the moon I could tell that. Over the years the Indiana weather hadn't been kind to this house, making it a renovator's worst nightmare-or-wet dream depending on craziness of the person.
My fingers shook, not from the cold but from nervous jitters, the windows of the house had been dark, thickly shaded with some moth eaten excuse for a curtain no doubt. At least that allowed my awkward stance less embarrassing, even though I was cold I didn't knock, I just stood there staring at the old double doors, with an even older knocker.
Biting down on my bottom lip I let out a held in breath, my body shaking for a moment as I just stared endlessly into the knocker, the worn copper an off shade of green. The metal twisted skillfully into a braid ending in a loop attached to a equally green ball. How easy it should have been to knock. All I'd have to do is grab the thing and pound on the door a few times, someone would come and I could get out of the cold. Yet I didn't, instead I just stared at the thing like an idiot, realizing that the moment I pounded on the door someone would come and I'd be stuck here, in this stupid house, on this stupid hill, because I got in trouble for doing something really stupid.
Shaking my head I pushed back my fears, my fingers grabbing the knocker, dropping it quickly as my hand repelled from the ice cold metal. 'Screw it,' I thought tirelessly, forgetting the freaking knocker I instead pounded on the door, my knuckles turning bright red from the force.
Then I waited, and waited, and waited some more. Minutes past but no one answered. Anger boiled down my spine, I'd come all this way and they hadn't even bothered to stay home, "Those stupid son's of-" My voice caught in my throat quickly swallowing the curse word as the door creaked open, a blush finding my cheeks as I yanked on my blonde curls embarrassed.
"I-uh-hi?" I offered weakly, watching as a younger blonde girl answered the door, Bambi I guessed, I should have known, really, we'd been playmates when we were younger... before the accident... before she moved here to no where land to live with crazy aunt Diana...
I watched as she cocked her head to the side a confused look in her eyes, "Um... Who are- wait? OH! Chelsa! What are you doing here?!" Bambi screeched loudly her smile consuming her face as she dragged me inside, practically bouncing on her heels. Scratch that- actually bouncing on her heels. Fourteen year-olds.
"Bambi! Keep it down what are you-" my Great Aunt's voice chirped annoyed and withered from the hallway.
The dark hallway was decorated meekly, dust covering the small side tables and picture frames. Awkwardly I crossed my arms looking as Diana walked into the room, her body short and firm, wrinkles absorbing all once attractive features, her eyes small and sharp as she gazed at me.
"What are you doing here?" She asked pointedly annoyance clear in her voice.... So much for my parents making arrangements.
"Lady- I said it'll be 72 bucks," the Taxi driver hissed his voice low and thickly accented.
I blinked, pressing hard on the up button, frowning as the car window moved in a lazy slow motion. My brain slipping back from a long forgotten place at his words. Turning away from the house I faced the man, now so close to my Great Aunt's house that the anticipation of the trip had finally hit me, the reality of my situation finally sinking 100% in.
"But the house is up there," I complained, hugging arms to thin sides- the bones pushing roughly against lightly clothed ribs brought little comfort or warmth. Anxious I wanted to delay this reality as much as possible. Even though I knew the taxi wouldn't be able to climb my Great Aunt's worn dirt path, I continued to persist. Biting into my bottom lip defiantly I shook my head at him as if this action meant total denial of his comment. The moment I left this taxi the spell of safety would be broken, and in my heart I knew there was no going back, New York City would just become another hodgepodge image of my life before, corrupted by a stupid half-thought out action and unchangeable events.
The driver eyed me with sarcastic amusement, his lips pulled back revealed tobacco stained teeth, "Ya' gonna pay for the $400 paint job?" he slurred, spit mingling with coarse laughter his thoughts jamming like a hot poker into my brain:
'Stupid rich white girls, with their flashy cloths and bitchy faces- should've left the' brat for Phil, have'em drive half way to hell and back for the little twit.'
His thoughts jutted off quickly my fists shoving the mixed ball of cash into his face almost at the speed off light as the familiar feeling pooled in my stomach, the dizzy tiredness suffocating me as I yanked on the handles of my suitcases freeing them from the cheap interior of the back seat.
Practically falling onto the dirt road that led up to the house I quickly understood his comments- the trees towered over the path their branches breaking off onto the dirt road, the taxi's thick sides and tall dome light would brush and scratch easily. Making the trip up the path would be more trouble than it was worth for him.
My knuckles turned white as they held tightly to the handles of my suitcases. My breath coming out in small white puffs as I watched with dismay, his taillights disappearing around a corner, taking him out of my sight.
Trust me when I say there wasn't a worry on his mind about leaving a teenage girl alone in a place with little to no cell reception on a dirt path on her way to a house that could have been in the next Saw installment.
Not that I didn't deserve to be here or anything... I did do it, and God knew I was guilty- no matter what my friends, classmates, mother's spin class, or the doctors' thought- I was responsible and I knew what I was doing when I was doing it... Oh Trent! If only I'd....
I stopped thinking- stopped breathing- squeezing my eyes shut I pushed the feelings away so violently that the spots in my vision took the form of fuzzy white butterflies, flapping away at my pupils. Taking a shaky step forward I almost tripped the hunger lapping at my veins as I shook my head, blonde strands slapped at wind burned cheeks.
Yanking on my hoodie I pulled tightly on the strings the fabric scrunching around my cheeks. My knuckles had turned a corpsie shade of white, the edges trimmed with a burnt red chapped from the cold-windy air. Wishing I'd brought gloves, I dreaded the trek up to the house.
In a normal family my Great Aunt would've been at the airport, a warm hug and helping hand in tow. In my family I had to catch a sketchy cab, and walk along a dark path alone on a freezing night.
Grinding my teeth I pulled the backpack strap over my shoulder a suitcase tight in hand and a pull along tripping behind me as I stumbled forward.
Leaves crunched under my sneakers as I half pulled, half dragged my luggage behind me. The small plastic wheels slipping against the cool foliage as I went. The wheels easily taking a wrong turn as they bumped along the path causing the heavy bag to flip from my fingers every few feet, my annoyed sighs seamlessly following it.
Letting out a huff I grumbled, wondering how my 80-something Great Aunt Diana could get around her property let alone how she got to town.
The trees whistled in the wind, my breath coming out in short puffs as I finally made it to the wooden front porch, the stairs creaking as I shuffled my bags up the chipped white painted planks, the house was a dump, even with my light only coming from the moon I could tell that. Over the years the Indiana weather hadn't been kind to this house, making it a renovator's worst nightmare-or-wet dream depending on craziness of the person.
My fingers shook, not from the cold but from nervous jitters, the windows of the house had been dark, thickly shaded with some moth eaten excuse for a curtain no doubt. At least that allowed my awkward stance less embarrassing, even though I was cold I didn't knock, I just stood there staring at the old double doors, with an even older knocker.
Biting down on my bottom lip I let out a held in breath, my body shaking for a moment as I just stared endlessly into the knocker, the worn copper an off shade of green. The metal twisted skillfully into a braid ending in a loop attached to a equally green ball. How easy it should have been to knock. All I'd have to do is grab the thing and pound on the door a few times, someone would come and I could get out of the cold. Yet I didn't, instead I just stared at the thing like an idiot, realizing that the moment I pounded on the door someone would come and I'd be stuck here, in this stupid house, on this stupid hill, because I got in trouble for doing something really stupid.
Shaking my head I pushed back my fears, my fingers grabbing the knocker, dropping it quickly as my hand repelled from the ice cold metal. 'Screw it,' I thought tirelessly, forgetting the freaking knocker I instead pounded on the door, my knuckles turning bright red from the force.
Then I waited, and waited, and waited some more. Minutes past but no one answered. Anger boiled down my spine, I'd come all this way and they hadn't even bothered to stay home, "Those stupid son's of-" My voice caught in my throat quickly swallowing the curse word as the door creaked open, a blush finding my cheeks as I yanked on my blonde curls embarrassed.
"I-uh-hi?" I offered weakly, watching as a younger blonde girl answered the door, Bambi I guessed, I should have known, really, we'd been playmates when we were younger... before the accident... before she moved here to no where land to live with crazy aunt Diana...
I watched as she cocked her head to the side a confused look in her eyes, "Um... Who are- wait? OH! Chelsa! What are you doing here?!" Bambi screeched loudly her smile consuming her face as she dragged me inside, practically bouncing on her heels. Scratch that- actually bouncing on her heels. Fourteen year-olds.
"Bambi! Keep it down what are you-" my Great Aunt's voice chirped annoyed and withered from the hallway.
The dark hallway was decorated meekly, dust covering the small side tables and picture frames. Awkwardly I crossed my arms looking as Diana walked into the room, her body short and firm, wrinkles absorbing all once attractive features, her eyes small and sharp as she gazed at me.
"What are you doing here?" She asked pointedly annoyance clear in her voice.... So much for my parents making arrangements.