Within the darkness and the green landforms that seem to fill the scenery there's a girl all by herself. She's wrapped in a blanket. All you can see are her ankles. If you look closer you can see the tattoo of a little butterfly. Its blue wings spread out so you can see the pattern on them.
You can't tell whether she wears any clothes, but the cold morning air tells you differently. However, she seems so unconcerned about that. It wouldn't matter to her whichever way.
A glass of milk sits beside her. It inclines towards her, it looks almost as if it was to fall but it sits there. Steady, much like her. It seems strange that she brings a glass of milk to the middle of nowhere. She doesn't seem to even recognize it there. What makes it even harder to understand is why she even has milk in a glass near her. She doesn't even like the stuff.
You can't see her feet as she dunks them into the pond. You can't even seem to see the aquatic life that seems to live within their poisoned abode. The pond seems so disillusioned that it's amazing to see even one lily form above the water surface.
There's a rustle of leaves and bushes. The girl doesn't move. She doesn't even seem to notice. Then a man walks through the thick grass and stands a few steps away from her. She doesn't even turn her head.
"It's cold," he says to her.
"Go away," she tells him.
He is the reason why she sits by a polluted pond. He is the reason why she caught a plane from London to stay at her grandma's abode. Though her grandma has long been gone, she still comes here for the sake of peace. He followed her once again. She's starting to get sick of it.
"At least go inside," he pleads with her.
She turns around and knocks the glass of milk over. There's fire in her eyes that startles him a bit. "Go away," she says with a deadly calmness.
He does not move and refuses to go. She picks up the glass and hurls it at him. He jumps away in time. She gets up and slaps him across the face. His face stings with the slap as well as her hand. He looks at her with a new sense of anger. She stares him in the face challenging him. He turns and leaves.
She lets out a sigh. Turns around to the pond again. She sits on the edge and wraps the blanket over her shoulders. She sits as if nothing happened. But if you look closely you can see the murky water settle, then ripples form from the small drops of clear water from her eyes.
Even as polluted the pond is you can still see her tears make tiny ripples. She lifts up her hand to see it turn red. So that's how I left her. I'm just a little butterfly she once saw when she was young. I'm just the inspiration for her tattoo. I can't change the way she is, only she can and she knows it.
As I fly away from her I see the man that had walked up to her. He stands behind the bush and watches her. He cries a set of his own tears. He isn't hurt by her slap, he's hurt that she's upset and that he made her feel that way. He cries with her.
He walks back over to her, quietly this time. He sits behind her and wraps his arms around her. She fights with him for a few minutes but eventually gives in.
She's not as strong as she thinks sometimes, especially when it comes to him.