The Hell Butterfly


It was crushing. Like someone had a grasp on her throat so tight she would surely suffocate. Yet she never did. She struggled against the force like cold fingers at her jugular, but she never suffocated, yet could never quite breathe. It seemed as though iron clamps compressed her frame. One at her back, the other at her chest, crushing her ribcage from the outside. And yet. And yet it seemed another steel grip closed around her organs, crushing her from the inside. Her lungs would surely fail under such strain. Her heart too, was breaking.

Her eyes were burning. The internal water system was damaged, it must have been. Time and time again the tearducts tried to burst. They wouldn’t. Couldn’t. The very bone structure of her face seemed crumbling with the pressure of trying to force them to break. Surely it would cause a backlog and something, somewhere, would be destroyed. This was why she tried to force the tearducts to go. She would rather them than her soul. Because that must have been what was next on the list of components to break. She tried again, she must break her tearducts. Better to flood on the outside than to drown forever.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move. To raise her eyes even to God was too much now. She would have to stay here and pray. Hope it would pass. Hope that she would ever put herself together again. But still the invisible fingers tightened around her throat. The metal fist enclosed around her heart and her lungs began to fail. Surely her body must give out soon. The thought made the waterways of her eyes explode outwards toward the only exit. But still the gates remained closed. There would be no release. The pressure, as massive as it felt behind her lids, would not be enough to breach the surface.

She tried to curl into herself further. She found she could not. Her limbs mutinied against her. Betrayed again. She almost laughed. It seemed she would be spending another night here. The crushing couldn’t keep on like this, could it? Surely not. Two days she had been captive to the pain. It had to let up. Wouldn’t it?



2 responses

  1. You’re very talented 🙂 I always love reading!

    January 14, 2014 at 11:50 pm

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