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The Butterfly CollectorRevenge is a VirusLuke Cullen finished the last sentence in no more than a whisper and placed the bookmark at the beginning of the third chapter. He let the book rest on his lap and dared to close his eyes. This is how his visits had played out for longer than he cared to remember. The two of them would sit down, always side by side, then Luke would begin to read. Scott`s constant rocking motion, forward then back, forward then back, whilst staring blankly into nothing, would soon begin to ease. Eventually, his head would rest on Luke`s shoulder. Safe. He would fall asleep. It was nearly twenty years since it happened and in that time Luke had grown from boy to man, but not Scott. Scott was still a terrified little six-year-old boy in the body of a grown man, Trapped, in the trauma of his childhood abuse replaying the horrific events of that night over and over. Luke`s mind drifted back to the smell of bourbon and cheap cigars. Their faces were always there, somewhere close to the surface. If he tried he could remember them all, all except one. He never saw his face but he remembered how he smelled, under the bourbon, there was citrus and sandalwood. The others only ever smelled of alcohol, nicotine and a staleness that you could almost taste. It didn`t matter how many times or how hard he washed, that smell never left. After the smell came the pain, rhythmic, aggressive, brutal. Flashes of leering faces urging each other in their depravity. Then nothing, just darkness. He was running. Scott was crying. They were together in the woods, naked but not feeling cold. Not feeling the stones as they tore the flesh from their feet. Just running in the dark. They had to keep running. A hand touched his shoulder startling him back to the now and accompanied by a soft voice that whispered, “Luke, come, I`ve got something you should see.” Cullen moved slowly and gently so as not to wake his friend then followed the nurse that had woken him from his past.
Wellfield House was a small residential care home run by the state. Its colonial style façade and well-kept gardens appeared to be an ideal environment for near one-to-one care. Luke knew nothing of the other patients or their problems, but in the time that Scott had been there, he had seemed less agitated and much much calmer. He hoped the ghosts of their past that held Scott captive were beginning to fade. Cullen followed the nurse, Jenny Foster, through the entrance hall and up the staircase of the colonial style house on a tranquil residential street in Poughkeepsie. “It`s good to see you, Luke, he`s missed you.” Jenny Foster had spent her entire career as a mental health nurse and the last ten at Wellfield. “I`ve been away, work. You know how it is. I left a bag in the hallway with a bunch of Harry Potter stuff, books, and DVDs. He seems to like them.” Jenny looked over her shoulder and smiled. “He`ll like that. How many chapters did you read with him?” “About three I think, I bookmarked it.” “Good, I`ll read some more with him later. The reason I wanted to speak to you was that we think he`s making some really good progress Luke.” Cullen smiled. “As you know we have quite a few volunteers from the local community that come and help. A lot of them are friends and family of patients` past and present. Anyway… Oh…” Cullen was expecting Jenny to continue but she stopped mid-sentence and called out to an attractive brunette that was walking across the landing ahead of them. “Sarah! Can I have two minutes please before you start?” “Luke this is Sarah Broderick, one of our volunteers.” “Hi, nice to meet you. I`m Sarah.” Jenny moved to one side gesturing for them both to follow and Cullen got his first real look at the brunette and smiled. She was stunning, maybe twenty-five certainly no older. Tall and slim with a few freckles across the bridge of a cute button nose. What captivated him though was the intense color of her eyes. He had never seen eyes such a rich shade of green and all he could think was that she must be wearing color contacts. Then before he realized it he was shaking her hand. Sarah Broderick glanced down as she took Cullen`s hand. Cullen instinctively pulled his hand away and adjusted the sleeve of his shirt and jacket but already knew it was too late. Sarah Broderick had seen the telltale scars left by years of self-harm and knew he was a victim too. An awkward moment's silence followed as they stood in the doorjamb to Scotts` room. Cullen hated being thought of as a victim, in his mind, he was a survivor. There were scars, outside and in, some deeper and darker than was healthy, but he had survived his childhood, he had survived the military. He forced a smile then lowered his gaze remembering something about the eyes being the window to the soul. “Sarah has been helping us. She tries to come in once a week.” Jenny`s words just seemed to breeze over Luke, then fade. “I`m at Cornell and I`m looking to specialize in Pediatric Neurology.” The significance of what Sarah was saying took a moment to register with Cullen. “Sarah helps out when she comes to visit her parents.” Cullen knew what was coming next, questions. He was the one with Scott when it all happened. “Scott is quite unique. I`d like to use his case to form part of my thesis. Do you have any objections?” “I`m not his legal guardian, I`m just a friend. How could I object?” Sarah turned and stepped inside Scott`s room. “I want to show you these.” Luke Cullen looked at Jenny inquisitively as the student doctor disappeared behind the open-door, only then did he get his first glimpse to the walls of Scott`s room. Since his last visit, the childish Disney posters had been replaced with pictures drawn by Scott. Some were simple black and white line drawings, others were more colorful, in paint or colored pencil. All of them were beautiful in a child-like way and showed great attention to detail. Butterflies. Different sizes, different colors. Cullen froze and the color drained from his face. Stepping into Scott`s room had taken him back to that night. An image flashed through his mind of his hand reaching out to Scott as he screamed. Laughing drunken voices, jeering. Peeling wallpaper. The strong smells of alcohol, nicotine, and sandalwood. Peeling wallpaper. Why did he keep thinking of the wallpaper? Think, try and remember. The wallpaper had a repetitive pattern. It was colorful but the same image repeated in his mind over and over. The Butterfly Collector is coming, soon! Copyright © Sean Buckley MMXXIII
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