Jane didn’t have many friends. That was okay. She didn’t really need them. She was busy enough with her
imagination. It was the only place she
could escape her father’s grasp. She
would pretend she was a butterfly flitting from flower to flower without a care
in the world instead of the damaged goods she really was. Still when she met Phillip she hadn’t
expected for them to be so much alike. She had been in the meadow behind her
house in hot pursuit of a brilliantly blue butterfly when she had first seen
him taking a piss on the big oak tree on the edge of the woods. She had watched transfixed, losing sight of
the butterfly in the process. As far as
boys went, he was classically handsome.
Still she had been a bit leery of him.
After all, he was not only a boy but a stranger. Where had he come from? She had lived here all her life and had never
seen him. She would have remembered. Phillip was like no one she had ever seen
before, as if he had been dropped here from somewhere else entirely.
Their eyes had met when he had finished
and the heat that instantly warmed her cheeks seemed to warm his as well. Awkward!
The smirk that quickly followed
his initial look of surprise was classic.
In embarrassment, she had run away and his hearty laughter had followed
her. As fate would have it, they met
again the next day at school. He was the
new kid, and as soon as their eyes had locked instant recognition had caused
her cheeks to grow hot once again in embarrassment. She had played it cool and continued to draw
butterflies on her notebook as he watched her from across the classroom. When the bell rang, she made a beeline for
the door only to have him pursue her and finally catch up outside her locker.
“Did you like what you saw?” he asked
boldly.
“You are sick, whatever. Just leave me alone.” She had begged.
It was then he had slammed her locker shut
and forced her to look at him. At that
point he hadn’t known the horrors she had endured at her father’s hands,
although she believed it was as obvious as the nose on her face. What she had seen in his deep brown eyes was
the offer of friendship and even the recognition of understanding that he
couldn’t possibly have had then. Eventually
she learned to trust him and believe he could be the knight in shining armor that
would save her from the atrocities she faced nightly at home. From that day on, they had been
inseparable. Rather than having to
confess her secrets, he somehow seemed to instinctively know so she didn’t have
to. He was her friend, her savior, her
partner in crime. From that day forth,
they were like two peas in a pod, their fates entwined as destiny ordained. 
The last day she saw him there, he
was more tortured than she had ever seen him.
She understood his angst, had went through it herself, but she couldn’t
have predicted the way events would finally play out. He seemed especially agitated that day. Finally the clouds and gentle warm breezes had
lulled him. He was quiet, brooding,
seeming almost a million miles away.
She had blown off his mood, thinking it would pass. The next day, she had found him there hanging
dead from a tree, the evidence of his father’s most recent beating shadowing
his skin in horrific detail. Tears
clouded her vision as she watched the police cut him down. It was that day she chose to escape her
private hell and run away. If only this
epiphany had come sooner. They could
have run away together, plucked up courage and sought help. He would still be here with her. It was the only thing she regretted, the possibility
she could have saved him and in the process saved herself.
