Chapter Text
Web of Butterflies
We all have a first memory.
That one moment our brains finally decide to start storing information and suddenly it’s like our souls are beamed into our bodies.
Some remember it vaguely, some remember it vividly.
Some remember something incredibly early, some remember something incredibly late.
And I was in the former of both categories.
I was maybe about 1 year old at most, maybe just a few months, which I’d honestly call pretty impressive. I remember only so much of it, the 2 tall people in weird costumes who I presumed to be my mother and father, the cluttered little room smelling of old leather, what I think was a couple of giant bugs and/or toys. I couldn’t really put any of it into context, so I couldn’t accurately guess what any of it was really meant to be.
The next few months after that weren’t much clearer. Folded screens, rising and falling skies, a blue haired… doll maybe, large buildings in the distance, and shouting. So, so much shouting.
In fact, if I was to find the first proper memory I had, it would probably be being dropped off at an orphanage. I was only about 2 at that point, and I was sitting calmly on a chair, watching who I think was my father talking to a receptionist. I could only here so much of what they were saying, something about keeping stuff anonymous and not losing my pacifier.
Speaking of which, after my father was done talking to the receptionist, he slowly came over to me, kneeling down to meet face-to-face. Though, his face was less ‘loving dad’ and more ‘pretentious chess champion’.
“Lila.” He began, with an air of artificial calmness, “I know it’s gonna be scary living without me for the rest of your life. But I know how resilient you are, I know how brave you are, and I know how clever you are. After all, you are my daughter. So…” he pulled out from the pocket of his coat a small pacifier, glittering golden and having a slightly square shape. That was mine, alright. “Go out there and make the best life that you can for yourself. Use whatever tactics you need to, lying, cheating, steal, whatever, to succeed. Who cares about what happens to anyone else, you’re much more important, much more deserving than all of them combined! My point here…” he then slowly took my hand and placed my pacifier into it. “Take care, my little flower. I’ll seen you again some day. I promise.”
And then… he was gone.
I don’t know how long it took.
I don’t know if I even saw him leave.
Right after that brief lecture of his, my mind goes completely blank.
But the days after that were thankfully a lot more… memorable.
There were maybe 30 other kids at that orphanage, probably more. Most of them were over 3 times my age and 5 times my size. I only caught a few of their names, I think one might’ve been called Xavier? I couldn’t really ask most of them what they were called or even to just play, I barely knew any French, and my rudimentary understanding of my home language, Italian, only included so many correct cognates. Adding insult to injury, most of the kids there divided themselves up by gender, race, and age, and so I only had so many options for friend groups, and each time I tried joining one, they’d be put off by me for one reason or another. Like ‘your hair’s weird’ or ‘you’re too old for a dummy’ or ‘what are you saying?’
And so, soon enough, I quit trying.
I just sat on my own for most of the day, reading books and staring out windows, minding my own business throughout mealtimes, nap times, learning times, basically whenever. I barely even had reason to talk to the caretakers much.
And that’s how my life went on… for maybe another 2 years.
A new kid had joined the group, not a particularly rare occurrence, but mentionable nonetheless. I hadn’t caught his name yet, but I could recognise who he was pretty easy: he was just about a year younger than me, had chestnut shaped and coloured hair, and had a slightly lumpy nose that almost looked a bit… bruised? Whatever, doesn’t affect me, right?
A few hours later that very same day, I was in the corner, reading a picture book about a mouse and a cookie, when I heard someone come up to where I was sat. I assumed it might’ve been a worker to tell me it was lunchtime, but to my surprise, I looked up to see the new kid staring at me with a nervous twitch.
“Uh… hi.” He began, fidgeting like mad. “My name is Nelson. What’s your name?”
Was this for real? Was someone actually talking to me? Was this… my only chance?
“Lila.” I spoke without thinking. “Why do you ask?”
“I just wanted to talk. Nobody else here really pays attention to me.”
Relatable.
“And you’re the last person I can choose.”
Brutal.
“Okay then.” I replied, tossing away the book. “What do you wanna talk about?” I had thankfully learned enough French to actually have any confidence in talking.
“Uh…” Nelson took a while to actually come up with anything to say. “What do you wanna talk about.”
If I was being honest, nothing. If I was being even more honest, everything. But that day I was feeling curious.
“What’s up with your nose?”
The waterworks were immediate. Nelson’s tiny toddler face could barely contain his sadness, it was a total miracle how he managed to stay even slightly quiet. My guess is to not attract anyone else to the conversation.
“My… my…” he was trying to talk without sobbing, but the effort seemed to be more than what it was worth. But soon enough… “My old mummy and daddy. They… always wanted to be left alone… I just wanted to show them a picture… they didn’t…” Nelson was seemingly interrupted by his own desperate effort to not go into a crying fit, clutching his hair.
In spite of how objectively horrible this situation would be to a four year old, for some reason I felt… nothing. Nothing good, nothing bad, nothing… real. I knew in my brain that something like that would be bad, but in my heart, there was just scribbles, for lack of a better term. Still, I had to say something, if he couldn’t get a handle of himself, he’d alert a teacher, and I’d probably not be able to speak to him again.
Slowly, I paced up to him and patted his back, his face slowing down near instantly.
“That’s pretty sad.”
My voice may have been monotone, but Nelson didn’t seem to notice, finally being able to breath again. To speak again.
“So… that’s why I’m here. So I won’t get hurt anymore.” I slowly returned to where I sat, staring at Nelson as he wiped his eyes and kept talking. “Are… you here for a reason?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, did something happen that made you need to come here?”
Was I meant to tell the truth? That I had been dropped off here by my dad and I have no memory of nearly anything that happened before? That I didn’t even know my own mother? Of course not, that would’ve taken this conversation from bad to terrible! So instead, I looked around for something, anything to inspire me, to help me come up with… my first ever lie.
It was then that I spotted the flipped page in my book.
“A rat infestation!” I blurted out, starling Nelson a bit. “My house got filled with a family of rats! Yeah, it was scary, really scary! But my parents were able to fight them off! My mom, she set those guys on fire! And my dad crushed them one by one! I even got a few hits in, drowning some in poison! It was incredible! Unfortunately, our house got too damaged for me to live in anymore, and my parents were hired by the government to go around saving more houses from rats! And this was the best place I could go, and so to the orphanage I went!”
For a few seconds, Nelson didn’t seem convinced of that, heck I couldn’t even be convinced by that, but soon enough, a great, glittery smile appeared on his face, as he began giddily clapping.
“That’s so cool!”
I was honestly taken aback by how well that went, and not knowing what else to do, I simply gave a small bow. Nelson just kept showering me with compliments and amazement, and I didn’t even have to explain myself straight away.
“I never thought someone so small could reach the rat poison cabinet! You must be, like, a super acrobat! I bet you’re the reason I won’t see any rats in this orphanage!”
What I was feeling then, when Nelson just believed my whole story out of the blue and cheered, it was something I couldn’t properly put into words. Pride? Validation? Euphoria? It was an emotion that filled my heart, but made me crave even more. All I knew for certain in that moment was that…
Well…
I should lie more.