He looked at her. In that special way he always did. It made her insides churn. It was a good kind of churn. Like butterflies fluttering. That kind of churn.

She smiled softly at him. He moved her closer to him on the bed. He held her, and thought to himself – he’d never let go. Not this time.

He inhaled her sweet smelling hair. It was soft, and it brushed up nicely against his face. It smelled of freshly picked daisies. She loved daisies.

She rested her head against his chest. Her nerves settled as she heard his heart beating. It had a steady rhythm. For now.

His hand moved up her spine and he felt her chest move up as she breathed in. He felt safe, and never wanted to let go. He told her so. He pictured her sparkling eyes glow as her lips curved into a sweet smile against his chest.

She looked up at him. He looked back at her. She reached up with her mouth and kissed him. He kissed her back. It was a warm kiss. Soft and loving. She relaxed her head against his chest again, and listened frantically for the heartbeat, her nerves anxiously clicking again.

She panicked. Her soul filled with sadness. She looked nervously up at him. His eyes were closed, and he had a peaceful look in his face. The beep that was at first in the background of her senses found her eardrums and beat against them in a quick, loud rhythm. It increased, faster and faster, and she had a hard time finding the beat of his heart. The beep grew louder and faster, and in a matter of seconds strangers flooded in. The whiteness of their clothing blinded her.

They pulled her off of him, her eyes, wet and blurred from the tears she shed on his behalf. She strained to see what was happening as the room revolved around her. Her surroundings took a sudden twist and she drifted off into a painful blackness.

After what seemed an eternity, she came around and saw a man standing quietly in the empty room she was in. Her insides churned, but this time, the bad kind of churn. Like spiders and insects were feeding on the walls of her innermost soul. That kind of churn. The kind of churn that would make your aura turn black, and progressively fade. That kind of churn.

She looked at him, and did the polite thing. She stood up to face him. Deep down she knew that the only thing he would say was grief.

His name was Wilden. Doctor Wilden.



She was right.



Her soul burst to flames. Her heart throbbed. Her eyes burned. Her stomach convulsed in time to her sobs. Her knees buckled, and before she knew it she was dull inside.

After months of pain and loss, she was finally dull inside. She was carrying a boulder at the pit of her stomach, and the burden of it left her seething. Her soul had burnt to a crisp, and her heart was sore. Her stomach relaxed, but the hurt did not cease. She had no more will to live.

In a matter of minutes the chair beneath her was toppled, and her heart slowed in time to her swinging body. She was finally with him again. The butterflies were back.


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Bara eitthvað ég skrifaði þegar ég var 15/16 ára.. Enjoy :)