Where the Butterflies Go

Chapter 2 : Livin' La Vida Loca

Chapter 2 : Living La Vida Loca

As the man stirred from his slumber, and the last warm sun rays from the long day filtered in through the curtains on the window behind his head, he slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the harsh light of the unfamiliar room. It took a moment for his surroundings to come into focus, and when they did, he couldn't help but feel a sense of disorientation. he found himself enveloped in a room that felt foreign and surreal. His eyes swept across the unfamiliar surroundings, taking in the peculiar sights his brows furrowed and then they soaked in every corner of the room. In one corner a strange contraption emitted a soft glow, casting dancing shadows across the walls.

A soft breeze flitted the curtains forward causing the skin on his body to give a small shudder. He glanced down at his body, expecting to find himself clad in the familiar garments that he put on first thing this morning. Instead, he discovered that he was dressed in only his long grey tweed dress pants, a stark departure from the crisp white collar shirt, vest, and tweed coat he had been wearing. He knew he had been wearing a matching tweed coat to go with his pants, because his mother and sister were the ones who bought it for him insisting it was a good look. It was in fashion, but in his opinion the damned coat was itchy. His mother and sister, he was supposed to have been on his way to have lunch with his mother and sister. He obviously didn't make it to his lunch date, and he would have to miss out on sitting through that lunch with that awful woman. 

A catchy tune floated through the air, its snappy rhythm beckoning him to listen. He strained to make out the lyrics with his eyes closed, the words unfamiliar yet strangely captivating. It was a song he had never heard before, yet its infectious energy resonated deep within him. 

“Woke up in New York City,

In a funky cheap motel,

She took my heart, she took my money,

She must have slipped me a sleeping pill,” danced through his mind, painting vivid images of a life he had never known.

The tantalizing aroma of chicken wafted through the room, mingling with the faint strains of the music. It made his stomach rumble in response, reminding him that he never made it to lunch with his mother and his sister. It also reminded him that he definitely needed to find food sometime soon. 

Someone was cooking nearby, he realized, though he couldn't recall who or why.  He had a blistering headache, that gave him the impression the reason he’d missed the lunch date was because he’d had one too many scotches. The scent was both comforting and disconcerting, stirring up memories that he couldn't quite fully bring to the front of his mind, and it made his dark brows come together and his mouth dipped down.  He couldn't recall how he got here, wherever he was. 

The man summoned his resolve, pushing through the pain and dizziness as he took a moment to breathe through his nose. Then he attempted to rise from his makeshift bed on the couch, a sudden jolt of pain shot through his neck and shoulder blade, causing him to take a sharp breath through his teeth in discomfort. It felt as though he had been branded by fire and steel, leaving behind a searing sensation that refused to fade. Gingerly, he reached a hand to the afflicted area, his fingers grazing the rough texture of a bandage. Wherever this place was, someone here had taken the time to bandage the wound he had. But that still didn't help him figure out how he got here. Every movement sent a sharp twinge through his body, a stark reminder of his vulnerability in this unfamiliar environment. Clad in his long grey tweed dress pants, he longed for the comforting embrace of his crisp white collar shirt and vest, but they were nowhere to be found, leaving him to feel exposed and even more out of place in the odd room he was in. 

Confusion clouded his thoughts as he struggled to piece together the events that had led him to this strange place. The memories were hazy and fragmented, like scattered puzzle pieces waiting to be assembled. With each passing moment, his sense of unease grew, leaving him to wonder what other mysteries lay hidden within the confines of this mysterious room. He could remember getting ready in the morning back at the hotel he’d been staying in while coming to visit his mother and sister, he knew that. He could still remember what his coffee had tasted like after he’d dressed in the tweed coat and pants that the pair had sent to him in New York. 

As he tentatively explored the room, he saw that he had been laying on a cream couch covered in a delicate flower print fit for a lady in his time. He took a small turn in his place where he was standing, he saw the sun was low in the horizon through the opening between the blue printed curtains. With the mind buzzed with a flurry of fragmented memories. Flashes of blinding light and the sensation of plummeting through the sky flickered before his eyes, leaving him reeling with confusion. He tried to piece together these disjointed recollections, but they slipped through his grasp like water through his fingers. He could remember a searing pain he had never felt before. 

Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the stillness, sending a jolt of panic coursing through his veins. Heart pounding in his chest, he cast about frantically for a means of escape, his mind racing with a single imperative: hide, at any cost.

With adrenaline coursing through his veins, he darted behind a nearby curtain, pressing himself against the wall in a desperate bid to remain unseen. His breath came in shallow quiet breaths through his nose, not wanting to cause too much noise in his direction.

The sun had mostly hidden itself from this side of the earth as he waited, straining to catch any clue to the identity of his approaching visitor. The seconds stretched into eternity, each one ticking by with agonizing slowness making him hyper aware of everything around him, the smell of the chicken, the way the temperature changed outside with the sun’s goodbye, and the soft sound of the music in the background. Until finally, the door creaked open, and a shadowy figure stepped into the room.

“Livin’ La Vida Loca

Her lips are Devil Red,” the music continued its taunting with the way it knew exactly how to be heard in the moment. 

A woman stood in the doorway, her features obscured by the dim light of the room. Her presence sent a shiver through his body that was no longer out of fear, a primal instinct urging him to remain hidden, but something even more primal telling him that he needed to make his presence very known. But as he watched her and could see the outline of her form a different hunger started to swell within him after finding himself in a strange place, a sense of familiarity washed over him, tugging at the fringes of his consciousness, telling him that she was meant to be there on this journey with him and he was not one to talk himself out of having a good adventure. Who was she, and what did she want with him? And he hoped it was more than just bandaging him up, with bated breath, he waited for her next move, his pulse pounding in his ears. He licked his lips ready to eat. 

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