Broken Little Butterfly (sequel to Butterflies)

ONE

Heels clicked on the hardwood floor. A sink across the room dripped as if it had been broken. The rope around her wrists opened up the scabs all up her arms. Her ankles burned from the erasure of the ropes. Tied and gagged to a chair, Mila's heart ached.

The room around her was dark, the lights flickered and the chandelier above her swung back and forth. The floor was sticky and stained red from blood.

Tied and gagged in chairs in front of her was her papa and Yana. Both unconscious but breathing slowly. The heel clicks became louder and closer. Mila could feel the woman's presence from behind her. A well manicured hands latched onto her shoulder. Red nails dug into her collar.

"Look what you have done Mila," the woman spoke, her voice ice cold.

Mila tried to yell but the cloth in her mouth just made her choke. The woman laughed. Pacing back and forth behind Mila the woman tapped her long nails across a gun. She stepped up, her back facing the girl.

Mila could make out some of the woman's features. She had long red hair that curled at the ends, her white suit and red heels made her look slim and tall. Her manicured hand held up the gun towards Yana's unconscious body. Mila tried to scream but it just burned in her throat.

"This is all your fault Mila. No one will ever forgive you for this". She pulled the trigger, Yana's body fell backwards. Tears stung her eyes, her throat was scratchy and her hands were shaking against the arm rests.

The woman stalked over to her papa's body. She held the gun up again and let out a chuckle. "They loved you Mila, and this is how you repay them". She fired again and Mila watched as her papa's body fell to the ground. Their bodies still tied to the chairs, blood spilling from their heads.

She could taste the acid in her mouth. The woman turned around slowly, revealing her face to Mila. The young girl cried against the gag, tears poured out from her green eyes. The woman in front of her, was her. A slightly older version of her but they were the same. Mila was staring at herself as though through a mirror.

Older Mila ripped the cloth from the young girls mouth. Mila let out a breath before doubling over and vomiting all over the floor and her legs. The version of herself in front of her smiled menacingly. Mila went rigid as the woman traced her fingers along the sides of her face.

"See what I told you. All. Your. Fault". The older Mila then pointed the gun at her younger self's head. Mila just closed her eyes and waited. "I'll see you soon Mila," she laughed before firing one last time.

Mila awoke with a jump. Her breathing was rapid and erratic and her hands shook. The room was dark but there was a beam of light shining through the blue curtains. Her red hair had grown since she cut it. The curls now landed just above her armpits. The braid it had been it was now pulled apart messily and was fanned out across the pillow.

Trying to control her breathing Mila stood up abruptly and bolted for the window. Unlatching the lock and cranking it open, she stuck her head out the window. Breathing in the fresh air and feeling it fill her lungs, Mila leaned against the window ledge.

That nightmare was a reoccurring one. Seeing the people she loves tied up and killed, but this one was different. All of the other times, she never saw who the killer was. Tonight she did, and it terrified her.

The shakiness of her hands had subdued and her breathing was normal again. Mila eyes scanned the room around her. The hotel she was in was nice, well she thought it was. She didn't have a whole lot to compare it to. The wall were white and the couch was white. It was in every way the opposite of the base in Siberia. Everything here was bright and welcoming.