Butterfly Nights

Long story short Mommy and Daddy forgot to tell Aunt Diana about their little plan. And after an hour long fight over the phone I can safely assume I'm stuck here. Not surprising Dad's always been the King of Arguments. He'd won the fight over who was getting stuck with Bambi after the accident, and now he'd won the fight with Aunt Diana over who got stuck with me.

Funny, even with the lamest points he never failed to win. All those years ago it had been that our apartment in the city was too small for two kids, or that Bambi would be more comfortable at Diana's house because it's in a small town. When in reality my parent's apartment was way too big for three people, and upper New York is nothing like rural Indiana.

Yet, those points never seemed to matter when my father had his mind made up. Although he made his living in architectural design, those few years at Harvard Law really paid off... Now he was nearly impossible to fight with and not come out sounding childish and stupid. Even Aunt Diana couldn't put up a fight with him, and he was half her age. I had to admit I felt for Diana... The last thing you wanted to do at the ripe age of 76 was raise two teenage girls. Especially when one had caused so much damage.

Biting my lip I didn't think about it any more, as one of my shrinks had said when I still lived in Manhattan, "stop dwelling on things you can't fix," as shrinks go she was alright, Allyson- I think her name was. Good advice as any I think, or at least I felt better not thinking about what I had done to him...

Sadly though when I did allow myself to think about what I'd done no amount of sleazy magazines or scented candles could tare me away from my guilt. I guess even though I couldn't change hurting him it still bugged me. Even if it was in my nature to do so....

"Chelsa! Are you listening?" Diana hissed shaking her head as she stared at me, her small eyes scrunched up in annoyance. Her tongue clicking against her white dentures as she impatiently waited for me.

"Sorry, I was..." I didn't bother finishing my sentence, what exactly had I been doing? Letting off a shrug I quickly put my suitcases on the small spare bed, the old lady floral bedding tacky at best, the room was arranged with doilies, throw pillows embroidered with those creepy cats, framed pictures of those gaudy cherub angels, and a salmon pink wallpaper left much to be desired. In New York I'd just hop over to some mega-department store and fix this, home decorating a passion of mine. I had a feeling that the local five and dime, wouldn't sell teal paint, or Egyptian cotton sheets no matter the thread count or-well, there lacking of.

Cringing slightly as I spotted a cat shaped clock with eyes that shifted with each tick on my wall, I seriously considered running. Screw caution to the wind, the clock freaked me out, more than thumbing across the country.



"I said, we'd already ate, ask Bambi to show you where the leftovers are, I've gotta sewing ta'do," Diana excused herself at that moment, not bothering to help me unpack, or trying to comfort me- a stranger in a terrifying place. No- the sewing had to come first, oh the joys.

Rolling my eyes I kicked off the too snug sneakers, before collapsing on my new bed. The frame groaning in protest made an unbearable squeaking noise as the springs jumped up, the flowery comforter absorbing my body as I sunk into the floral print.

This could take some getting use to...

Letting out a sigh I pried myself from the squishy deathtrap, I was not the type to cry over spilled milk. No I was more to bitch, and throw tantrums until I got what I wanted, my father had taught me that nothing was final, nothing couldn't be swindled, or negotiated with. So I still held hope, still knew that somehow I would get out of this, but first- first I'd have to find a way out, and that wouldn't happen from just chilling out in this ugly room.

I stretched cracking my shoulders, enjoying the alleviated tension, before walking back out into the hallway, not bothering to close my door. The smell of potpourri, mildewy dust, and peppermint permeated the air. Something that hadn't left the house in my entire existence, the scent as familiar in my memories as it was now shoved inches from my nose.

My socked feet slapped against the hardwood, the aggravated thumping softened by ancient carpets that hadn't been dusted in nearly twenty years. The light overhead flickered once, before going back to its regular foggy glow. The stairs groaned with each step as I made my way downstairs, not needing any help finding my way to the kitchen, this house never changed, and even though I hadn't been here in years, I knew every nook'n'cranny, every dusty hiding place, every well kept secret hidden in these moldy walls. My fingers reflexively touched the walls, my hands feeling the warn and crispy floral wallpaper, dust lightly caking my fingertips. I let out a sigh, the house was in even worse condition than before, what it needed was a good clean- A creak behind me caused me to jump my body turning sharply towards the sound a squeak of surprise hidden deep in my chest I was able to keep it in thankfully, as I came face to face with Bambi. Well more like face to forehead; even with her head tilted, and her best tippy-toes stanza Bambi never did get the Peters' tall gene.

Me scared by a prepubescent fourteen year old... How- Rich?

"Didn't Diana teach you better than to sneak up on people?" I hissed, quietly- actually, not quite sure why I was being so quiet, but it just seemed like the right thing to do at the moment so I went with it.

Bambi just grinned, one of those shit eating kid grins, when they know they've got you doing something strange, or almost made you jump.

"N-o-p-e," Bambi pronounced popping the 'p' like a piece of over sized gum, before giving me that creepy smile again.

"Huh," I rolled my eyes, shaking my blonde hair before turning towards the swinging kitchen door again.

"Did you really kill that boy? I heard Aunt Diana talking and she said-" I quickly cut Bambi's rambling off shooting her a dark look, before walking through the revolving door so quick it cut her words, and I'm pretty sure smacked her little bubbly face.

I didn't laugh, but was pretty close to it. Hopping up onto the worn wooden counters I waited for her to walk into the kitchen, rubbing her slightly red cheek, as she gave me a look that equally matched mine.

"That wasn't nice!" she whined frowning as she stomped over to me. Crossing my legs, I laughed now, looking again down at her, now even shorter than before, I took in her familiar features.

The family passed down indigo eyes, and stringy blonde hair; that upturned little nose her father use to have, and her mother's heart shaped face.

Now, normally remembering those features would be weird, but when my Father practically made a shrine to his beloved baby-sister on his mantle (although he wouldn't take in her kid) seeing those things every day when snacking on a bowl of Coco Puffs or leftover Chinese takeout made it easy to see her parents in her- physically at least.

I don't really remember my Aunt or Uncle that well, just what was said politely on assorted holidays, or when my Father drank a bit too much of his equally beloved scotch on Aunty's birthday. From what I did gather Father felt pretty damn guilty about the whole thing, grisly death, car accident- blown out tire, or maybe it was a snapped break line? All I know is it went boom, after a rather scandalous New Years party Dad just had to have them attend at some art museum he'd just built. Hum- and I was the one with the shrink? A regular: 'the lady doth protest too much,' if I've ever seen one. Well in the sense that my father is a regular Queen of Denmark, and his views on me needing 'help,' are a little too internally needed. Oh, Sigmund would have a field day with that I bet.

I know- I know, I really should be more sad about poor Bambi, and such, but I've never been that warmhearted girl who cries over every lost thing. The world's a little too cold for many of those types anymore, if you don't push forward, you're screwed, so making a joke out of the whole thing was a way to push forward, I never said I was sweet.

Actually, it should probably be said now: I'm not a nice person, I'm not innocent, I'm not even kind. I'm me, and anyone who has a problem with that well, too damn bad that's the way the cookie crumbles.

"You're different now," Bambi said quietly, frowning as she looked at me as though she heard my thoughts, which in all reality could have been true, if I didn't have that pretty little Nazar Amulet hanging from my neck.

The Evil Eye had multiple nifty uses, one of them keeping our thoughts hidden from each other. Newsflash- not just a cute accessory. Even if Bambi wanted to read my thoughts, as long as I kept this token around my neck, it's like hitting a brick wall, for mind reading, and the other little talents my cousin was growing into.

I could feel her though, trying to get in, trying to see if I was using the magic this emblem held, or if I was just wearing it for show, allowing her in when she wanted- like I could guess Aunt Diana did regularly. Which was why I made sure to block her off completely, keeping the Nazar close to my skin. I had secrets that would curl poor Bambi's hair, just one peek though and I bet she wouldn't try again, should I?

Letting out a humph of air I rolled my eyes thinking against letting the little brat in, instead smiling at her raising my brows, a soft fake smile forming on my lips, "What do you mean? It's still me," I laughed playing dumb, usually the sweet smile I'd profected along with my light blonde hair easily fooled people; dumb blondes and such.

Bambi shook her head, reaching for the old fridge door, keeping a suspicious eye on me, before grabbing something from inside.

"We had pot roast, it tasted like leather- PB&J?" Bambi added pulling out a jar of red jam and a loaf of bread before closing the fridge door with her foot. Grabbing for a cabinet door behind me, her eyes still locked with that ill'eased look, before plopping the jar down on the counter. Yanking out a knife from a different drawer she made quick work of the sandwiches before throwing me a sleeve of graham crackers my way.

Pulling herself up the side of the counter she nodded to herself as if accepting something before offering a small smile my way, "So what's it like living in New York?" she asked as if forgetting her discomfort completely, chomping away on gooey peanut butter.

Smiling for real I let out a sigh, before starting in on a conversation that actually interested me.