The spider and his butterfly

Everything will be fine....

Everything will be gone.

Nothing will hurt anymore.

It's gon' cost a story, but nothing she hasn't—walk through before.

A mischievous experiment with a mouse. The cat before a feast.

A safe maneuver on the brain.

And so, slowly, he devours her all.

Reborn, with a new life to draw.

She will not be her anymore.

But as the soul remains the same,

Shall sojourn this entangled morose body.

The waterfalls, she's weeping and screaming...

The current of rules and routes slither through her fingers,

Fading with each drying tear.

Never in our hands.

The book carves the fate. Believe and have faith. Breathe... Breathe in deep.

But it hurts to...

Breaking her bones, and crafting them the way he likes.

A kaleidoscopic butterfly, caught in a ferocious spider's web.

She loved him before the haven,

The wreathing of a mellow cocoon.

The bud blooms and she spreads her wings...

She flies—and fars away...

Stuck still in the grim shadows of the haunted forest,

Weaving the grid, tracing along distant woods.

And suddenly,

Twinkles the raindrops on the gossamer threads,

Rays spill through the agape in clawing, looming branches of trees.

A kaleidoscopic butterfly is trapped,

The shining web of a ferocious spider surceasing the soar...

Enraptured, the dark creature crawls near.

The glowing butterfly adhered to the slicing laces—flutters to free.

But two miscellaneous lives cannot be one.

So he cuts off the wings.

For thirst and hunger are never appeased with only the wings,

He wishes for forever...

He loves her.

And slowly; he devours her all.

---

'When you're awaken, you'll reborn. You'll find me in every bit and piece of you. So breathe through me.'

'Only I shall live in you.'

Soft, steady breaths.

She rests peacefully on a comfortable bed.

Her mind is clouded—a heavy ivory fog hovers in her head.

The senses clear slowly: the sharp scent of antiseptic, a trace of floral soap.

The shrill beeps of machines ring in her ears.

Soft, steady breaths, she was peacefully resting on the comfortable bed.

Her eyelids shift. Butterfly lashes flutter.

Light stabs her vision through the thin slits.

She flinches and closes them again.

A pause. Then—

She tries again.

She slowly opens her eyes.

The blur fades. Her numb gaze roams across the room.

White walls. Machines.

Darkness framed by wide, floor-to-ceiling windows.

The curtains are drawn back.

The sky, deep and blue, eclipses the last of golden daylight.

A heavy weight on her waist tightens her awareness.

She turns her head.

A man lies entangled beside her, and her brows crease.

His head rests in the crook of her neck. She shifts uncomfortably.

Feeling her motion, he stirs—his dizzy mind awakening.

He lifts his head, meeting her cocoa-brown eyes.

"You're finally here," he murmurs, voice deep and raspy.

"Who are you?" she whispers, only to since at her burning, arid throat.

Swallowing hard, she tries again.

His fingers graze her temple—rough but slow—and she squirms under the caress.

"I'm Ishmael. Your husband," he says.

A smile creeps onto his handsome face.

Dark irises framed by long lashes.

Almond-shaped eyes. Firm brows. A high nose. Thin lips.

A strong, triangular jaw.

"Husband?" she breathes, staring into his gentle gaze.

"But I—" Her words break, confusion painting her face.

She wants to refute him, but as she tries to reach for a reason, for her memories… she finds them faded, fractured, discolored.

Too distant to grasp.

She clutches her head. A sharp pain stabs through her skull.

Her heart spirals. Her breath shortens. Her cheeks flush red—

It's quiet.

Too tranquiled.

It's terrifying.

"Why can't I remember?" she gasps, her fingers clawing at her temples.

"What's happening to me?"

Panic seeps into her bones. She shivers from the frost of white haze in her mind.

"It's okay. It's okay. Look at me, love,"

He catches her wrists before she harms herself.

He kisses her knuckles.

Her wide, frightened eyes lock on his calm ones.

"You're my wife. My Neva," he whispers, conviction thick in his voice.

"Be calm. I'll call the doctor, hmm?"

He tucks a stray curl behind her ear, but she shrinks beneath his touch.

His brows knit. The softness in his eyes darkens.

His hand stiffens for a heartbeat.

But he tells himself she only needs time.

She only needs time.

"Don't be afraid. I'll protect you," he promises, pulling her into his arms.

A faint smile touches his lips—

She's not resisting him anymore.

He holds her tightly, feeling her rapid heartbeats thrum through their joined chests.

But when his hand strokes through her hair, she places her palms on his biceps and pushes him away.

He hesitates.

"W-water," she croaks.

He nods, the gloom in his eyes lifting slightly.

A fragile smile tugs at his lips..He kisses her forehead.

He walks away, toward the coffee table circled by sofas near the window.

As he moves, she exhales—a quivering breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.

The unfamiliar room dawns in.

Her heart feels like a white canvas painted in translucent strokes.

She sits up slowly, lungs tight.

Sweat gathers in her hairline.

She closes her eyes, desperate for color, for clarity...

For something.

But she's looking for nothing.

Her teeth clench. She lowers her head, fingers clutching her hair, yanking at the roots.

Dried roots almost reaps off her barren shell.

Across the room, Ishmael watches her,

A glass of water in hand. His face—still.

A grim demeanour shades around him. His eyes dim.

She is in pain... Gasping for solace.

She is alone.

She is afraid.

She is hollow.

A bitter, rotting sense of loss fills her.

She can't catch the red petals swirling in the wind. Of carnations. Of Roses.

The black clouds of the endless night sky close in around her,

Squeezing her tight—so tight—

She cannot even wriggle to break free.

And the burning hot tears swimming down her cheeks,

Little sobs slipping away her lips,

Do so bare ease this nameless agony.