His Collection

TWENTY-SEVEN

He held my hand as we took the steps up. My heart walked ahead of me as my brain stayed behind; it didn't want to be there when I break down again at what I would see upstairs.

With a candle between my fingers I lit most of the stairs, but somehow tripped and stumbled foward. I snorted at how excited I must be, and Lance shook his head with a smile. Inside, I was not truly smiling. I was afraid that perhaps he wasn't lying to me when he had said he did have bodies up there. And what if he joked? What if it was all a joke? But, he never lies to me if I directly ask something.

Those twelve steps were counted in my head, but were spun twice, even a third time; it seemed we had been walking to the highest peak in Montana.

"Scared?" Lance's hand lifted mine, and held it between us. The candle burned away the previous thoughts about what fear actually was. Shaking my head while my dull brown eyes melted into his perfect ones I exhaled; they had become a sunset; full of color, and I felt as if I was somewhere I had to be.

"No," I replied.

We stood at the top of the stairs as he lowered his neck to close the small distance. His nose grazed my forehead, and finally stopped at my left temple. I could feel his breath as I stayed still with my eyes wide open. I lowered the candle, and his free arm raised it back up.

"I don't want you to be afraid of me."

"I'm not."

Had we had this conversation before?

Pressing his chest to mine, he exhaled a scoff through his nose. "Then why can I feel your heart racing?"

"Racing?"

"Mm-hmm. Why?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know a lot of things, lately," he said while sinking his fingers into my hair. The sensation caused me to lean into his bowed head, and lift our locked hands up to our chests. Before I could say anything, he drifted our bodies away into the hall and told me no one has ever been in his private rooms before. Walking side to side now, I feel trusted. I feel safe knowing he was there.

He's going to protect me.

I still smell pizza.

Protect you? You've got to be kidding me. Protect you from his doings?

Lance feels nice.

One voice was scoffing, another, rolling her eyes at me, and I wondered why that particular person in me was being a judgmental ass. She answered back quickly that she was trying to keep me alive.

I am alive.

As he opened the door to his first room, I saw that there were a few candles lit already. Slowly he took hold my hand that held the candle, then raised it high above to light an oil lamp the size of his head. It brightened the entire room, though my head was pressed to his chest still while he towered over me to steady the lamp. After moving out the way, my lips parted to the esoteric realm I had been welcomed into.

Butterflies. They were pinned to the walls; every single inch of it covered with their tiny, fragile bodies, and wings. As the flames flickerd, it made it appear as if they were rapidly flapping their wings. I turned to see Lance, but he had disappeared from my eyes. He was there, I could feel his hand on my face, but his skin had sunk into the background. Every spotted wing matched his skin to perfection as I stared in awe at how his eyes twinkled through.

His hand slid to the back of my neck as I remained quiet. There were no words to describe how I felt. It had been sudden, and I didn't recall ever even being in the middle of nowhere. Instead, there was a sense of home. Of the true home we all wish for somewhere of in a Neverland that we wanted when we were younger. This is a place that stories that begin with 'Far, far away' lead to.

Shifting closer, his skin danced with the thousand wings that circle me.

"How could they have been bad to you," I asked quietly as a tear slid out my eye. He was just a boy. One that collected butterflies, one that loved the world around him. The real world; trees, flowers, nature, knowledge. "How could they have called you something ugly?"

Lance seemed surprise that I had morphed my emotions quickly into such a sad state of mind, but at this point I wasn't ashamed to express myself anymore. He called out a name, and I ignored it because I didn't know who it was. Again he said it to calm me down, but I shut my eyes. After the third time, his lips brushed my eyes.

"Blanca," he said it again.

"Whom?"

His jaw tightened, then his bent over to level his eyes to mine. I peeked through my damp lashes, and saw concern all over his face. Hushing me to end my tears, he states that was my name.

"Oh," I remember then blink out the tears that rested in the pits of my eyes. "I...forgot it." Quickly I added with a sob, "I don't want to forget my name, too...I know I have been forgetting a lot of things, but I don't want to forget my name."

Tears started to pour out again, and he embraced me. I cried silently into his chest. Lance placed my candle among the rest, and promised me that he wouldn't let me forget.

"I'll call your name forever."

To hell and back my brain traveled. It was furious with me, and for the love of all the gods around us, I couldn't figure why, why I hated myself so much for being in his arms. Half the time crying it was because of the pity I felt for Lance, the other, it was for the self-hate, and disgust I couldn't understand.

Much later did I finally dry out, and calmed down. Freely I walked around dazzled by every single insect; butterflies, fireflies, moths, dragonflies, and even insane, hand-sized grasshoppers with the most glistening wings. They all appeared to be fairies, and I didn't stop my heart from whispering stories into my ear.

Lance leaned back on the door watching me as I smiled, and pointed to all the new species I had not seen outdoors before. It smelled of the plains in his room. If I had been blindfolded, I would have bet we were outside, out in the tall grass, and under the radiant skies.

For the longest time, though, I could not remove my eyes from the two pale indigo butterflies that were trying to illuminate a memory into my mind.

"Blue eyes," I whispered quietly to myself.