Butterflies

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 ℕ𝕚𝕟𝕖 // ℙ𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕖

TRIGGER WARNING

Third Person POV 

September 3rd, 1940 // August 17th, 2016

As the days seemed to fly by, everyone noticed as Enoch and Sawyer grew closer. Although he was told to help her learn to control her peculiarity, they spent almost every waking second together, and then some. 

In the current moment, Enoch and Sawyer were once again sitting underneath their favorite oak tree. He sat, leaned against the smooth trunk of the large plant. Sawyer had her head in his lap as the rest of her laid over the cool and shady grass. She held a book in her hand, in which she read out loud. Enoch’s hands were playing with the dark strands of her hair, as he listened to the calmness of her voice as she read. 

“Do you only like me because I look like my grandma?” Sawyer asked as she closed the book and sat up. Sawyer had been wondering for days if this was true, after he admitted that he would never love anyone like he loved Amelia, but then kissed her the next afternoon. 

With a confused look upon his face he asked, “Where’s this coming from?” Sawyer resisted the urge to melt at his Scottish accent becoming thicker with the words he spoke. All she did in response was shrug. 

Enoch moved his gaze from her face, now studying the grass with close precision. The longer he thought, the more Sawyer believed her claim was true. Just before Enoch answered, Sawyer stood up and walked away. When she was out of sight from the boy, she placed her hand over her heart, an odd pain lingering. She fought the sob threatening to escape her throat and instead headed to the bathroom. 

She closed and locked the door, hands shaking, nausea filling her body. She stepped closer to the counter where her toiletries bag was placed. She opened it and pulled out the small metal object, still shaking. Still feeling like she was going to throw up. She turned on the tap, making it cold before she held the razor blade above her wrist. 

She let the blade open her skin, and red flowed from the pale girl. She repeated this process a couple times, letting tears flow from her green eyes. A knock on the door startled her, making her drop the small object that landed with a clink. 

“Sawyer, please talk to me,” the familiar Scottish accent spoke through the door. Sawyer’s heart was beating out of her chest as she calmed her breathing before she responded. 

“Go away Enoch.” 

“Sawyer- are you alright in there,” He ignored her request as he tried the door handle, only to find it locked. Worry filled the boy, and the look on his face betrayed him. She panicked and quickly rinsed her wrist off, trying to rid everything of the staining blood. She quickly placed the blade back in her bag and pulled her sweater over her arms. 

Taking one glance in the mirror to make sure the tears were gone, she unlocked the bathroom. Enoch immediately opened the door, worry still evident in his features. He looked the girl over, finding nothing out of the ordinary. She rolled her eyes at his reaction and pushed past him into the hallway. 

“Sawyer, please talk to me,” Enoch whispered desperately, wrapping his hand around her wrist. Sawyer flinched and hissed involuntarily in response. Before either one of them could say anything he pulled the wrist he grabbed towards him, pulling her sleeve up. 

Poker faced, he looked at the guilt in her eyes before pulling her by the bicep into his room. He closed the dark before turning to her. Sawyer was scared beyond belief. She held her hands in front of her, picking at her nails and biting her lip. He took in her frame, her fear showing in her body language. His gaze softened as he took her shoulders and moved her to sit on his bed. With her sitting down he crouched in front of her, taking her hands in his. They felt cold as ice.