I drop to my knees beside him, hot tears burning against my lower lashes as I slowly turn him around. There’s blood all over his mouth, dried against his lips, pooling in the back of his throat as his head rolls back without the life needed for him to hold it up. He’s still warm though. In this freezing fucking cold room, he still has some warmth.
“I’m sorry, Kid, I’m so sorry.” I hug him, covering his body with my own.
My chest rattles as I slowly press my lips to his hair. Hair cut like mine.
“I got my hair cut to match yours.”
All those fucking plans I made disappear before my eyes. There won’t be trips to a barber, movie nights, showing him his first real butterfly, or seeing who he becomes. They all fucking vanish, dying with him as my tears slip down my cheeks, soaking into his hair.
“I’m going to get you dressed, okay?” I whisper. “I promise I won’t touch you more than I have to.” I take out the pack of socks I found with colorful butterflies stitched at the top of them. “I thought you’d like these. Th-that you could keep the but-butterflies with you.”
His feet are so cold as I put his socks on.
I show him each item of clothing, telling him why I chose them as I dress him.
“These are like my sweatpants. They have secret pockets inside the pockets too and I…I thought you could hide stuff in them.”
I cup the back of his bloody head, cradling him against my thighs as I carefully pull the t-shirt over his head. “I got every color I could find, so you could pick your favorite.”
I pull a hoodie over his head, carefully laying the strings against his chest. “It’s like mine. You like—liked.” I exhale, mybreath shaking. “My sleeves are too long for you. Now you have your own.”
Gently placing my arms under his lifeless body, I fall backwards. “I don’t know your shoe size, so I got a few different sizes for you to try on. You said you’ve never had them before an-and I don’t want them to hurt your feet forever because you won’t be able to take them off.”
I hold his feet, trying to warm them up as I rest my cheek on his temple. “I’m sorry for not knowing your shoe size.”
His face is even smaller, framed in the black hood as I keep my weight off him. But he’s smiling.
“I love you, Kid.” I slowly lower my head. “This isn’t like how everyone else touched you.” I softly press my lips to his forehead.
I’m not his father. But he’s my…kid. He was my kid, and I hug him tighter. “Be a butterfly now. Fly away from here. Never come back. I love you. I’ll make them all hurt for you.”
I lift his arms, gently placing them on his body before I slowly rock him. Taking his hand in mine, I delicately brush my thumb against his knuckles to clean the blood off them. His little hands that would make bird shapes or hold up how many words he was trying to act out.
My arm trembles as I slowly lift his hand to my lips, slowly rocking him. “I’m going to miss you forever, Kid.”
When his body cools, I stand with creaking joints and carry him out of the room. I continue walking when booted footsteps follow me.
I don’t stop until I’m in the cold air.
“I’ve never played in the snow,”he said once. I promised him we’d have a snowball fight, we’d build a snowman. I’d learn how to build an iglu so we could sleep outside.
“Kane?” Lennox says from behind me.
I keep fucking walking, trying to put as much distance between my beautiful boy and that fucking place. Snow fallsfrom the covered trees as I hug him tighter to keep him warm. I don’t know how long I walk for, because I can barely see between my eyes swelling and the cold air freezing my tears to my skin.
The other cabin comes into view. So does Delilah in the window. There’s a split second where her face lights up at our little boy in my arms. Lennox steps around me as I crumble. The snow catches me, sinking in slow motion as I look up at the sky, wishing there was a fucking butterfly so I knew he was okay. There’s nothing other than the hazy sun as it rises on the first day without my kid.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I’m so sorry.”
Footsteps crunch through the snow, getting faster until someone drops in front of me. Delilah holds my nape to get me to look at her. Her fingers gently work across my face, attempting to brush the tears away as a second pair of footsteps approach. The sound of a shovel hitting compacted snow is next as Lennox silently digs while I introduce our boy to Delilah.
“Kid?” I stroke his cheek. “This is Delilah, from the pictures.”
“They can’t hurt him now.” She sits up on her knees, but I can’t feel her hands because she’s not really here.
If she’s not here, then neither is Kid.
As I look down with hope my head is so fucked I’ve made this shit up, I know it’s real.
