Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Toxic Butterflies ❯ Spiral Into Insanity ( Chapter 4 )

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Toxic Butterflies

Chapter 4: Spiral Into Insanity

By: Revamp

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Suroriya was in the basement, writing in her book as her lovely butterflies and moths fluttered around her in a dense cloud. The light flapping of wings filled her senses as her scrawled symbols down. A few of them lapped up the blood pools that littered the floor around her.

From a small stand nearby, Q-chan watched the insects flutter about and cocked his head in curiosity.

It's hard when you hold the very aspect of life in your hands. Sad to say that I have not yet taken her life. I only managed to slip a hallucinogen into her tea. No doubt her mind is being warped from it as I scroll this message down and document my ongoing list of torture.

Physical torture is good and well, but it is often an overplayed motif that is used all too much as a horror element. I prefer the more…unseen methods of mental torture. It's much more interesting to watch them destroy themselves after I set their mental instability. Sitting back and watching them fall apart is all a part of the fun, after all.

I do wonder how my little Prada is doing.

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Prada woke up screaming in a cold sweat with terror surging through her body. Flashes of the dream reeled through her head, the stakes being driven into her wrists and feet. Being shocked and the smell of her flesh as it sizzled, the sight of blood spurting from her form and her organs being surgically removed and laid on the cart. She didn't think that anyone could be capable of doing something so horrible. It was the same dream, over and over of the same damned thing. That dream, with cannibalism. Suroriya would never do something like that…would she?

Surely not.

They were such good friends, and Suroriya was such a sweet girl. Even with these factors into play, it didn't make her dreams any less vivid and frightening. She sat up in her bed, clinging to her pillow as she wept quietly into the fluffy surface and rocked back and forth, shaking with fear.

Prada didn't tell anyone about these reoccurring dreams. The lingering sensation of the metal lodged in her skin. It was enough to make her so scared that she was afraid of going to sleep. There were nights when she didn't sleep at all. Prada spent most of her days asleep. She could only sleep in the sun.

The black-haired girl whimpered as tears streamed down her face. She feared for her own safety. Her wide eyes darted around the room, it was as if forms twisted and moved in her peripheral vision, routine noises distorted in her mind, turning into twisted echoes. Things no one should ever think were breaking her psyche. She was cracking.

Kosei sat on the couch, reading casually when Shana walked by with a basket of clothes that she had pulled from the washer. Blue eyes glanced up at the red-haired passerby, “Shana, have you seen Prada today?”

Shana stopped and looked thoughtful for a moment before replying. “No, I haven't. She hasn't been around a lot this week. I think it's really strange how isolated she's become.”

Trepidation hung on his features. He had noticed the change in Prada, but he only thought that it would be something temporary. However, Prada continued to act withdrawn and reclusive. For someone who was once a happy socialite, it unnerved him. “It's very weird. She's usually always around when I need her. Her other friends are asking about her as well.”

“Maybe she's still in her room,” Shana never saw her come down stairs so it was a possibility. That and her friend was sleeping a lot during the day.

Kosei arose from the couch and placed his book on the table, marked in his last place of reading, “I'll go and check on her.”

)))))))))))

Prada sat in bed, clad in a white, knee-length gown made of white silk with spaghetti straps. She lay back with her head against the wall and pillow in her lap, looking as if she hadn't slept for days and did nothing but cry. Suddenly, the knock at the door startled her, causing her to jump. The pillow tumbled from her lap as Kosei walked in.

“Prada?”

Prada frowned, looking irritated that he was even present. “What? I don't want to be bothered. Isn't that obvious from the fact that I'm staying away from you?”

“You have been cooped up in this room since you passed out at Suroriya's house. It was bad enough that I never wanted you to be friends with her, much less see her like you were,” Kosei didn't want to come off as overbearing, but she knew that he was suspicious of Suroriya and thought that the girl might have had something to do with his sister's murder. The fact that she went against his wishes by befriending the lolita burnt him up inside.

Prada groaned, looking disheveled and sleepless. There were bags under her eyes and her hair looked as if it hadn't seen a brush all week. The girl was pale and sickly, “I'll be down in a minute. I told you, it has nothing to do with Suroriya. I just feel sick.”

Kosei wasn't buying that excuse at all. There was something wrong with his girlfriend, and that was obvious. “Are you sure that you're okay. I'm worried about you.”

“I'll be fine. I just need some rest,” Prada assured him. She knew that he wouldn't fall for it, but maybe he would back off.

She couldn't be more wrong. Kosei walks towards her, all the way to her bedside and extends a hand his girlfriend any affection since she had passed out. More than anything, that was a sign that something was wrong. “Are you sure that-“

He was cut off by the black-haired girl who jerked away and scrambled to the other side of the bed. In her haste, she nearly fell off and had to regain herself. Her once friendly, green eyes were wide and filled with panic and horror. “STOP! Just…Don't touch me! I'm fine…really.”

Prada couldn't take his stares anymore. She nearly cracked.

Recovering herself, she placed a hand to her chest and got off of the bed on the opposite side of her boyfriend. Her voice was calmer now, and less frantic, “I'm taking a shower. I'll come down in a while.”

Walking past Kosei, his features only reflected breeding worry. He thought about taking Prada to the psyche ward to have her evaluated, but he knew the consequences of that. More than anything, he didn't want to see another case like Aze. `Something isn't right about this…about her…'

It was another nightmare-filled night, Prada lay curled up in bed, shivering. It was more severe this time. She watched the demented lolita in her dreams as she cut slabs of her muscle tissue, dripping with her fluids. Prada was somehow alive enough to watch as these events unraveled. She heard the laughter reel through her mind as Kosei and Shana ate away at her form. Only then did she realize her true worth. She was nothing more than a simple meal to her friends.

Something to be digested and forgotten about.

Prada hiccupped and sobbed, holding her head as the vivid images played over and over again in her mind. Every single sound, the moist, gooey noises filling her ears, the burning of her arms and legs felt so real as if they were on her right now. She whined again, tears pouring from her eyes.

“Why? Why won't you get out of my head? Get out…Just get out!” Fear turned into anger as Prada wildly punched herself in the sides of her head over and over again. “Get out, get out, get out, GET OUT!”

The girl cried again as she ran her hands through her hair. She screamed out in rage and sorrow. Another night, another chip off of her insanity.

Everyone began to notice. It was in the way she walked and talked. She was gone and her body language screamed it. The once cheerful, bright, happy girl who loved lolita fashion and spending time with her friends was no more. Her hollow shell drifted aimlessly around. All of that uninterrupted sleep had been taking its toll. Everyone who was around her knew that something was wrong, but they knew that they wouldn't and couldn't get any answers from her even when they tried.

When they tried to help her, she shot out at them like a wild animal. Despite that, no one realized the true gravity of the situation. Not until drastic measures had to be taken. It was the day that Prada finally snapped.

Time passed and a month went by. The weather chilled and everyone went outside more, making the best of the season. A haggard-looking Prada walked outside. Shana was in the yard, raking leaves. The red-head looked at her friend.

“You're finally here! I've been so worried about you. You've been really screwed up lately so I thought I'd ask you to come out into this world and do something to get your mind off of that dark cloud hanging above your head. I actually didn't think you'd show up but I'm glad that you did. I didn't want you to be cooped up in your room all day. Now, let's have some fun,” Shana smiled, trying to be supportive. It was hard to see her friend in such a shambled state. It killed her, and it was worse knowing that she couldn't get a straight answer out of Prada since she had passed out at Suroriya's house.

Prada looked blankly at her and nodded as Shana took her hand and led her to the grill outside. Kosei, who was outside talking on his cell phone went inside.

“We're going to grill some steaks!” Shana announced happily.

Prada felt her heart race. She backed up with fear in her eyes, looking frantically for a way out. “No…no…nonononononoNONONONONO! No…no…I don't want to…I won't eat that. I won't let you do that to me! Let go of my hand! Let me out of here. LET ME OUT OF HERE!”

Shana cocked her head with a quizzical expression and walked over to her friend. “Hey, it's okay. They're really good,” she took a plate of cooked meat and held it out, “just try them.”

`Run, run, you idiot RUN!' Prada smacked the plate away. “I DON'T WANT THEM! I won't eat them! That's sick! You won't get me with that bullshit!” She screamed.

“What's with you? You usually love these steaks! There was no need to just waste them like that,” Shana looked mad. Now their lunch had been ruined and lay on the ground, covered in dirt. Those steaks were expensive.

Her expression changed to one of concern at her friend's current state. “Prada?”

Prada was whimpering in fear with a horrified expression as adrenaline raced through her being. Her chest heaved with heavy gasps. Her sleep, deprived, horror scene was playing out before her, but this time with another friend. The nightmares replayed, this time with Shana as the tormentor, removing her organs and taking them to be cooked in the pressure cooker. “Get out…”

The scalpel sliced down her stomach.

`Move! Get out!' Her thoughts assaulted her as she screamed and backed up. “Get away from me! Get away!”

“Hey! Watch it! The grill is back there!” Shana called out, not wanting her friend to kill herself by backing into the burning metal case.

Prada latched onto a knife that was used to trim the fat off of the steak. `Kill her.' She hesitated. Part of her wanted to scream and run, but the other thought about fulfilling the request. `Kill her before she kills you.' A maelstrom of conflicting thoughts assaulted her mind, which caused her to feel nauseated, weak in the knees and caused her heart to pound in her head. `Use the knife.' Prada gritted her teeth as the voiced in her head warred and she tried to reason with herself. `Use it. Use the knife.'

Tears streamed down her face. The frayed strands of her sanity knew what was happening. She was fighting a battle she knew that she would lose. `Use it!' Prada held the knife in her shaky hands, hiccupping between sobs. “Just…leave me alone…Please, Shana…Just leave me alone.”

“You must have gotten worse. Come on, let's get you inside. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. You should be resting,” Shana spoke softly and laid a hand on her friend's shoulder, trying to calm her down.

Prada reacted without thinking. Shana moved back as the knife grazed her cheek, causing the small trickle of red to flow down.

“P-Prada…what…” Shana stammered in disbelief.

“I told you to stay away. WHY COULDN'T YOU JUST STAY AWAY?” Prada shouted as her thoughts taunted her.

`Kill her.'

“No…She's my friend…I-I-I-“

`Kill her…and this madness will end.'

“Shana…r-run…just run…Oh, god…Please don't make me do this!”

`Kill her. Kill her! Killherkillherkillherkillher…'

Everything became a blur; the memories were a haze in her mind. Prada wailed and plunged the knife forward into Shana's neck sticking her jugular vein as blood spurted out of her neck. Shocked registered in Shana's form, her friend gurgled as blood hemorrhaged from her open wound, staining her blue, v-neck t-shirt. Prada began stabbing erratically as she plunged the knife into her friend's body over and over sobbing hysterically as the flailing girl struggled.

Through her sternum and onto the floor, her blood spilled as she stopped struggling.

Prada was splattered in blood.

“Leave me alone!” She screamed in rage, “you couldn't go the fuck away, could you? You just had to keep coming at me!”

Shana's struggles weakened; her eyes were wide with terror as tears streamed down her face. Her visage was frozen in anguish and terror. She looked up at Prada with glazed over eyes.

Prada's stabs were slower and slower, and then she finally plunged the knife deep into her chest, ending her life once and for all. Prada heaved as she looked down on the product of her efforts. Blood stained her form; she wore her friend's blood like the newest fashion statement. Wailing in anguish, she sobbed loudly as she realized what she had done. Prada wrapped her arms around her slaughtered friend, holding her corpse tightly.

“No…nonononoNONONONONONO! I didn't…Oh god, no…What have I don't? What the fuck did I do?” She threw Prada's body back onto the ground and let out an ear piercing shriek as she looked down at her blood and viscera coated hands. It dripped from her finger tips. Prada looked as if she walked straight out of a horror movie set.

She backed up hastily, slipping on a pool of blood and slamming cheek first into Shana's bloodied chest. She dragged herself to a nearby tree in the backyard, her stomach turned as she choked back the bile that surfaced in the back of her throat. Her mind raced, thoughts running a thousand miles a minute as she hyperventilated. Wide eyes gazed back at her, void of life. This…this is what she created. Murder. She murdered her own friend. Voices in her mind beckoned to her, whispering in her ear the darkness of the world as the back yard spun.

At this moment, time stood still. The last pieces of her sanity were being plucked from their roots…one by one until she finally snapped.

Hands grasped her head, blood-matted hair with ichor felt slick in her hands. She hummed a song disjointedly to herself. Then she wrapped her arms around herself as psychotic laughter filled her shattered world and splintered psyche.

…To Be Continued