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THE BUTTERFLY

T he silence in the room is almost suffocating. I pace back and forth like a caged animal trying to think of something positive and good, as I’ve been told to do so many times to forget where I am and focus on something that makes me happy.

Anything.

The only thing I can think of is how Jamie makes me feel, but then I worry that I may never feel like that again. What if something happens to him?

Is life worth living without him?

The cheap carpet under my feet feels rough, a reminder that I’m not where I belong. The room is small—barely enough space for the single bed, a worn-out dresser, and a rickety chair by the window.

The window is cracked open just a little, but the air that slips in does nothing to cool the heavy humidity in the room. The room feels too close , like the walls are leaning in on me with every step I take, trapping me in a small, claustrophobic box.

I rub my temples, trying to push away the headache threatening to split my skull in two. What’s the point? It’s too quiet. I lie down on the bed, the sheets feeling rough under my skin, and close my eyes for a second, hoping sleep will find me. But sleep doesn’t come. My body’s exhausted, but my mind is still buzzing with too many thoughts.

Then I hear something outside. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate, the soft thud of heels, women’s heels hitting the floor. My heart skips a beat.

Then someone knocks on the door. Sharper and it’s as if they’re knocking to a beat of a drum.

Shit!

It’s definitely not Jamie. He wouldn’t be knocking, he would say my name or something. No one is talking, so it makes me nervous . I lie on the bed, frozen, unable to move. Maye someone has knocked at the wrong door.

I swallow hard, my throat is dry, hoping that whoever is on the other side of the door, just goes away.

I can hear murmurs through the door, muffled voices, but the one that cuts through everything is Dr. Julia’s. I know what she sounds like, she has spoken to me so many times when my eyes are closed. I feel a comfort knowing it is only her on the other side. Maybe she was talking to someone on the phone.

“Penelope…” she says, but her tone is so different from anytime we’ve spoken, so I don’t go near the door. She sounds agitated, so I stay on the bed, ignoring her with my heart pounding. My fingers tighten around the edge of the bedspread, the fabric bunching in my hands.

What the hell is she doing here?

“Penelope!” Dr. Julia calls again, and this time there’s something almost calculating in her voice. I want to ask her why she’s here, but my throat is tight, and my lips firmly shut.

Then, no more is she knocking on the door, but banging at it. I run to the window, seeing if I can get it open, it is my only means of escape. I still have my sneakers on. A trick that Jamie taught me. Be prepared for anything, I have my purse strap with the gun safely in it and some money. I can make it on the outside, I never should have stayed in this motel, I should have left and gone somewhere public.

Then again, I never knew that someone would find this room. It’s a different one, to the one we were in earlier. Now she’s here, and not alone, I don’t know what to do, but as the door bursts open with a violent shove. I realize I should have thought of an escape plan beforehand, instead of just staring at the ceiling.

The sheriff steps into the room first, his figure filling the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking out the dim light from the hallway. He has been in the diner a few times. I recognize him, even if he’s not wearing his uniform. Behind him, the deputy storms in, his face twisted in anger, his hands clenched into fists. The deputy is his son, he too has been to the diner. Sometimes he comes in two or three times a day, Tracey says that he has a crush on her. Then again she thinks that anyone who comes into the diner a lot has a crush on her, yet she’s still single and none of them ever ask her out.

The deputy sneers, eyes narrowing as he looks at me. His voice is low, dangerous, like a growl. “No one touches my woman.”

What did he just say?

Before I can even open my mouth to protest, the sheriff’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “Shut up, son” His tone is icy, sharp, commanding.

I look between the sheriff and Dr. Julia. What is she doing here? Why is she involved? I thought I could trust her. But as the door swings fully open, revealing the full force of the situation, I realize I was wrong.

The sheriff moves deeper into the room, his eyes narrowing as he looks me up and down, assessing me like I’m nothing more than a problem to be dealt with then. Dr. Julia is behind him, closing the door with a soft click that sounds like the finality of a coffin lid being shut.

“Ever since your boyfriend came to town,” the sheriff begins, “there has been nothing but trouble. You’ve caused nothing but problems for everyone, Penelope. I’ve even had to shut down my business.” He pauses for a moment, letting the words hang in the air like poison. “We know who you are. We know what happened in New York.”

What is he talking about? I try to speak, but the words get stuck in my throat, the fear making it impossible to form anything coherent.

He called me Penelope.

Dr. Julia closes the door behind them, and I want to run, but they have guns in their hands, and anger in their eyes.

What is going on? What do they want from me?

“I don’t know what you mean. Agent Turner and I aren’t together.,” I whisper. I’m trying to think of a way to get out of here, but there are three of them, and only one of me.

The deputy chuckles. “We know that his real name isn’t Turner. We knew it from the time we killed his boss back in New York. We tried to frame him then, but he got away with it. Stupid FBI Department.”

“Jamie’s brother killed my brother. You know, the brother who killed your aunt,” the sheriff snarls as he gets closer to me.

“Brother?” I ask, because I’m still confused.

“Yes! The mayor of NY. It’s all your fault, Penelope. All of it!” He rants as he’s waving the gun at me, and I feel that at any moment he will fire it.

What?

The sheriff steps forward, the floor creaking under his boots. His eyes bore into mine. “It’s an eye for an eye. We killed Jamie’s boss after he nearly closed down our operation. Then we know his brother killed my brother. We’ve been saving the best for last.”

I feel my legs buckle, and I stumble back, my hands pressing against the edge of the bed as I try to steady myself. I scream—loud, piercing, raw—a desperate cry, which I should have done from the moment they came through the door.

My throat burns with the effort of that final scream, the door crashes open with a force that rattles the walls.

“Penelope!” Jamie’s voice cuts through the chaos. My heart leaps, relief flooding me in an instant.

He’s there— he’s really here .

The once cramped room feels overloaded as not only are Dr. Julia, the sheriff, the deputy and I in the room, but Jamie too. There’s no room for anyone to move, the only thing that can happen is for someone to make the wrong move, and for shots to be fired.

His chest is heaving with the effort of running, his eyes wild with determination, and for the first time since I walked into this hell, I feel a flicker of hope.

“ Get away from her! ” Jamie roars, his voice filled with fury as he charges toward the sheriff and the deputy, who are now caught off guard by his sudden arrival. Then there’s the sound of voices calling into the room that cuts through the air like a thunderclap.

“ Federal agents, on the ground! ”

The agents flood the room, like bees to a bee hive, I don’t know how many can fit in the room, but it’s as if they’ve all prepared to ensure my safety and to make sure justice is served. They shout orders as they move in to arrest the sheriff, Dr. Julia and the deputy. I watch in shock as they pin the deputy to the ground, securing his wrists with cuffs as they control the situation. The sheriff moves too quickly, he’s determined to shoot me, he was facing them but now he’s facing me.

Before anyone can stop him, a single shot rings out, sharp and echoing through the room. The sheriff's body jerks before he crumples to the floor. A dark, crimson liquid spills from the wound, quickly soaking into the faded carpet. For a split second, the agents stand frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief, breaths caught in their throats. Then, as if snapped from a trance, they spring into action, weapons drawn, voices sharp as they secure the situation.

“ He was going to shoot her, ” one of the agents mutters under his breath, but no one really needs to explain what happened.

I’m left standing there, gasping for air, trying to process what just happened. Then, Jamie pulls me close as the chaos finally starts to settle. His touch is grounding, and for the first time since I’ve been in this nightmare, I feel safe as I close my eyes and hold on to him.