Butterfly Kisses
Chapter 12
The first thing Gerard noticed was the cold. It encased his hands and lashed out at his injuries, stinging them with frigid air. Some kind of liquid laced his fingertips, lowering their temperature further still. Finally his eyes fluttered open, and a blue sky streaked with pale morning colors met his vision.
Morning. It was sunrise, and had only been so for a few minutes from what he could tell. Dew from the carpet of grass beneath him had soaked into his scalp, which suddenly began to itch wildly as small insects began attacking it. He furiously brushed them away and sat up, though he regretted this action once a shockwave of pain hit him and coursed through his head.
Two chirping birds caught his attention. He turned towards the sound, seeing a pair of sparrows chasing each other around the tangled branches of a tree. A small smile raised the corners of his mouth; the scene reminded him of a painting he had seen some time ago.
Then he remembered Frank.
It all washed over his mind in a sudden torrent of black memories. Punches thrown every direction, a fist settling against his stomach, a foot slamming into his skull, a scream of torture-
Gerard scrambled to his feet and looked around frantically for any sign of his friend, but it looked like he was alone. A violent shiver rocked his body as he tried to brush the morning dew off of his arms, ignoring the thin streaks of blood his fingers left behind.
“Frank?” he called hoarsely. He began to run blindly, only focusing on finding the younger boy. He saw something by his feet and nearly tripped on it, but stopped before it was damaged. Breathing in deep gasps, Gerard knelt down to its level and picked it up with one hand, his fingers trembling in fear. He cradled the object limply between his fingers and simply stared at it for a moment before it occurred to him that he still hadn’t found Frank.
An emerald, leaf-laden tree nearby caught his eye, and he saw the palest glint of gold on the ground near the trunk. He dashed toward it but stopped abruptly as he realized the gleam of light belonged to the face of a watch wrapped around a thin wrist paler than paper. A sob wrenched itself from deep in his lungs as his terrified eyes took in the picture. Vacant, empty eyes staring in opposite directions, one arm torn open to release the blood trapped within, neck bent at a sickeningly acute angle…
The camera dropped from his grasp and hit the ground simultaneously with his knees as the tears began to flow and drip golden light onto the body. And Gerard cried for the horrible, twisted irony, for the cruelty of the world, and for the unfairly shortened life of a boy who could never speak for himself.
Morning. It was sunrise, and had only been so for a few minutes from what he could tell. Dew from the carpet of grass beneath him had soaked into his scalp, which suddenly began to itch wildly as small insects began attacking it. He furiously brushed them away and sat up, though he regretted this action once a shockwave of pain hit him and coursed through his head.
Two chirping birds caught his attention. He turned towards the sound, seeing a pair of sparrows chasing each other around the tangled branches of a tree. A small smile raised the corners of his mouth; the scene reminded him of a painting he had seen some time ago.
Then he remembered Frank.
It all washed over his mind in a sudden torrent of black memories. Punches thrown every direction, a fist settling against his stomach, a foot slamming into his skull, a scream of torture-
Gerard scrambled to his feet and looked around frantically for any sign of his friend, but it looked like he was alone. A violent shiver rocked his body as he tried to brush the morning dew off of his arms, ignoring the thin streaks of blood his fingers left behind.
“Frank?” he called hoarsely. He began to run blindly, only focusing on finding the younger boy. He saw something by his feet and nearly tripped on it, but stopped before it was damaged. Breathing in deep gasps, Gerard knelt down to its level and picked it up with one hand, his fingers trembling in fear. He cradled the object limply between his fingers and simply stared at it for a moment before it occurred to him that he still hadn’t found Frank.
An emerald, leaf-laden tree nearby caught his eye, and he saw the palest glint of gold on the ground near the trunk. He dashed toward it but stopped abruptly as he realized the gleam of light belonged to the face of a watch wrapped around a thin wrist paler than paper. A sob wrenched itself from deep in his lungs as his terrified eyes took in the picture. Vacant, empty eyes staring in opposite directions, one arm torn open to release the blood trapped within, neck bent at a sickeningly acute angle…
The camera dropped from his grasp and hit the ground simultaneously with his knees as the tears began to flow and drip golden light onto the body. And Gerard cried for the horrible, twisted irony, for the cruelty of the world, and for the unfairly shortened life of a boy who could never speak for himself.