Crimson Butterfly

(Content Warning: Blood, Gore, Murder, some crude language.)

The monstrous heat is unrelenting, a good sign for things to come. I desperately stare out from the apartment window and notice my reflection smiling back. I never realized that I had such a wonderful smile. It suits me. I’m not used to smiling, but I think I can get used to it after what I just did. I glance up at the sparkling moon and bask in its afterglow - a radiant light that fills me with emotion.

This is a night of rebirth—a new beginning.

Frank will never be able to hurt me again. He won’t be able to hurt anyone ever again. Second chances are for suckers, and I gave him three. Time after time, I confronted him about keeping his dick in his pants. He wouldn’t listen. He just couldn’t help himself.

All men are pigs.

He wanted to make things right this time, so he rented this lavish room to impress me. The Pinecrest Plaza has the finest apartments in Ruby City. I bet this is where he brings all of his whores. I figured as much when the porter delivered our luggage and gave him a sarcastic wink. It was as if he knew what Frank was up to.

I fixed it, though. I made things right. 

My suspicions proved true during the thralls of ecstasy when he called me Lilly. He was always the dominant one and liked having his way with me. I decided to do a role reversal and flipped him over on his back. I straddled him and tied his hands to the bedposts using his socks. He was reluctant at first, but after seeing the lust in my eyes, he allowed this one act of passion to come true.

The lust in my eyes was not born from desire. It was blood lust. I looked deep into Frank’s eyes and screamed, “My name is Angela!”

Terror filled his eyes, and I liked it. I stabbed my sharp crimson nails into his throat and ripped it open. I could hear gurgling sounds; perhaps he was trying to scream. I didn’t care at that point. It was my turn to dominate. His blood spurted on me like a bubbling geyser, and I bathed in it. It was warm and sticky. I loved it.

Bleed!!

I turn from the window and admire my handiwork. The bed was like a giant sponge filled beyond its limits. So much so that the blood was spilling over onto the fluffy white carpet. I scrunch my toes in the soggy mess, and my smile returns. Frank never looked so beautiful. 

Moving to the bathroom, I turn on the shower. I’m already naked, so there’s no need to take anything off. As the warm water flows over my curves and mixes with my blood-stained skin, I feel revitalized. It is a cleansing of the spirit. A right of passage to my new life. I watch the red liquid disappear down the drain, and I can’t help myself. I smile again.

Stepping out of the shower, I pad myself off and rub myself down with vanilla bean lotion. I slip into my knee-high red silk dress and comb my dark hair. Feeling daring, I reach into my make-up bag and line my eyes with black mascara. I also find a dark shade of Midnight Merlot lipstick and roll it on. I smooth my lips together and blow myself a kiss for good luck.

At the bottom of the bag, I find a pack of Marlboro’s. I quit smoking several months ago and must have forgotten that these were in here. Stepping out of the bathroom, I realize that I left quite a mess. The cops will surely come after me.

What to do? What to do?

In a flash of light, an idea springs to mind. I snatch a cigarette and place it between my lips. I dig through my bag, searching for a lighter. Bingo! I hammer down until I see a bright flame and ignite the cancer stick. I inhale deeply, and to my surprise, I don’t cough. Blowing out the white smoke, I look down at Frank’s bloody corpse. His eyes are still open, and my body quivers because I feel like he is staring at me.

“Burn in Hell, Frank!!” 

I toss the cigarette into his greasy hair, and it instantly burns. The flames quickly dance onto the bedsheets and erupt into a burning inferno. The smell of burning flesh fills my nose. As the fire rocks back and forth in my eyes, I let out a small chuckle.

Problem solved!

Leaving my things there to burn, I leave the room. There’s no need to rush. I walk with a stride of confidence. I reach the elevator and decide to take the stairs instead. I assume the lifts would be out-of-service soon and being on the thirteenth floor, I can’t afford to get stuck.

After a casual stroll down the stairs, I enter the main lobby and make my way toward the exit. As the cool night air hits my face, the fire alarm starts beeping. I notice that the city is bursting with activity. I never knew how beautiful the city was until now. I spot a nearby Starbucks and suddenly feel the urge for a caffeine fix.

I order a double-shot espresso and sit down near the entrance. I have a perfect view of the plaza. I raise the cup to my lips, and as the hot coffee fills my mouth, I lift my eyes over the rim and see the top half of the Pinecrest explode like a vengeful volcano.

Gasps of astonishment fill the air. Everyone races outside to watch the spectacle unfold. I see people emerging from the burning building fleeing for their lives like ants running from a deranged exterminator. Firefighters and police quickly arrive on the scene. I’m very impressed with their response time. It doesn’t matter; the building is beyond saving. Crispy toast, anyone?

Starbucks is now empty, and I wonder what the big deal is. Has anyone seen a burning Plaza before? I take another sip of my expresso, and off to my left side, a tall, burly man taps my shoulder. He has a grizzly beard and a husky voice.

“Hello, pretty lady!” he says. “I hate to bother you, but I’m hyperglycemic, and I could go for a sweet treat like you!” 

Men are pigs…

Looking up, I give him a sultry smile. His eyes grow wide as I rise from my seat. He must think he’s going to get lucky. How typical. I notice a smoky black tattoo of a butterfly etched just below his beard on his neck. Fascinating. It captures my attention immediately, and I feel my lips curve into a smile.

My eyes return to his ugly face, and I whisper, “I think it’s your lucky day, big boy….” 

Like an eagle snatching a rabbit in a desolate field, I stab my claws into his neck and rip out his vocal cords. Once again, my skin is bathed in warm sticky goo, and he starts choking. He stumbles back and flips over a table. Landing on the floor with a loud thud, I see the wings of the black butterfly turn red. Is this a sign?

I notice the cashier staring at me. She saw everything I did. Everyone else was outside watching the maximum carnage of the burning plaza and didn’t notice my gruesome kill. Aside from my now deceased stalker, she is the only one who stayed in the store. Her mouth is wide open, and her eyes are filled with horror.

Holding a finger to my dark puckered lips, I give her a harsh warning. “Shhhhh!”

She slowly nods her head in an unspoken agreement. I give her a wink and a warm smile and then reach down to finish the rest of my expresso. Feeling satisfied, I leave the store and make my way to a back alleyway. My red stilettos tap against the wet pavement like a sexy vixen in the night.

My laughter reverberates off the nearby buildings, and I smile because I know that I will never take anything for granted again. I will live my life to the fullest and never let any man control me. I will make them all pay. My calling has just begun.

In the wake of my destruction, The Crimson butterfly is born…

Daniel R. Hayes