Morbid Butterfly

For the next hour or so I sat on the satin sofa flipping through shows on the television. Peter eventually joined me, and we sat in silence, until now.

"What is your name?" he asked. This struck me like a bee. At first I pretended not to hear him, putting the remote down between us.

He grabbed it and muted the volume. I gritted my teeth.

"Darling, I do adore the pet names, but I believe I'd like to call you by your real name," he whispered. I slowly turned to him, and there it was. That shining smile. I saw the curiosity in his eyes.

I thought about answering, "That's a good question." but consequences were surrounding it. He'd find out exactly what I know.

Nothing.

Then what would happen? He'd either kick me out, not wanting anything to do with the lost girl with no past, or not even believe me and think I'm some nutcase. So no, that was not an option.

"Molly," I answered. It was the first name I thought of.

"Molly..." he whispered to himself, looking down at the floor, thinking. "Such a pretty name. It means 'uncertainty', you know?"

'Uncertainty'. That's sort of ironic.

"Really? I didn't know that," I stared at the floor. Somehow I could feel his expressing turn darker.

"You seem frightened?"

I didn't budge.

"Afraid? Lost?"

Man, he was good at guessing.

"How old are you?"

Dammit, another question I couldn't answer.

"How old are you?" I asked him back.

"Seventeen," he answered smoothly and confidently. Oh how I wished I had that certainty.

I studied him, his facial features were almost as fresh as mine, but that might've been different if he were a girl. I'd guess, maybe I was his age as well?

I said "sixteen," just to be safe, however.

He nodded, as if telling me I were correct. At least- that's how I took it. That's all I really needed right now, assurance.

"Well, I that's enough interrogation for tonight. You should be happy, I don't believe conversations are something your fond of," he stated with a wink.

I nodded and smiled. "Your room is down the hall of the bathroom. Mine is this door right here," he motioned the white door that I saw when I first entered the suite.

"If you need anything, don't be hesitant to knock. I'll be reading for awhile."

"Okay," I said. Air filled my lungs, and I pushed it out with a long sigh.

"I think someone else should go to bed as well," he chuckled. He began to leave.

"Wait."

"Yes?" he turned back to me.

"Seventeen, and you own a hotel suite?"

He smiled again. "This is usually owned by my father. He's back in the UK right now, and thought I'd fancy some city life in the US for summer vacation."

"Oh."

"Right. Goodnight," he turned away again.

"Night," I said and turned off the TV. Getting up, I felt something sting on stomach.

"Ah," I yelped a bit. Peter turned and saw my action as I gripped my stomach a bit.

"Are you alright?" he said very concerned. He ran over to my side.

"Yeah I'm fine..." I cringed a little and sat back on the couch. Peter sat close next to me, focusing on where I held my stomach. I rolled the polo up a bit to reveal a large gash in my stomach.

"God, how did that happen?" Peter exclaimed.

"I-I don't know," the first time I didn't lie today.

"The fabric must've irritated it," Peter ran off to the kitchen and came back with a first aid kit.

I traced my finger on the long cut. I gasped.

I pictured myself running again, this time in another location. Out of a house. Come on! Someone shouted in front of me. I followed the figure. He jumped into the bushes. I followed. Gasping, I felt my stomach. A cut. Use this. The figure whispered, handing me a peice of cloth he ripped off of his body. I gripped it in my shaking hands...

"Molly! Molly, snap out of it!"

I awakened from another trance.Peter was holding me, I guess I fell.

"Don't you dare do that again, here me?" Peter exclaimed, leaning me up.

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I-"

"Fine, fine," he stammered, beginning to patch up my cut.

"Now, you haven't any more hidden injuries do you?" he stared at me.

"No, no. Thanks for this though." I focused on his eyes. They were suddenly so calm, so beautiful...

"Your very welcome," he smirked. "Now off to bed, the both of us." he turned around and headed for his bedroom.

"Good night," I whispered.

"Good night Molly Mystery."