Thoughts are like butterflies that flicker from one page to the next. No one really believes that Rikku is bothered by most things, and is a cloud of glowing happiness. But truthfully, she thinks about everything a lot more than most people. No explanation is needed. Change, secrets and hiding inside yourself is part of life. Like a butterfly in a cocoon.

Butterfly

"Storm?"

They had said.

"It's nothing but a small drizzle of rain"

They had said.

"What is there to be afraid of, it's just a little thunder"

They had said.

"What part of me saying - 'I'm hyper-electro-stormy-weather-lightning-blasting-phobic' - don't you understand!?"

I had said.

Well actually, it was more of a scream. No ... wait ... it was a full-on crazy-lady shreik, with the whole arms waving around frantically, hair billowing in the wind and empty old eyes looking at something that's not there. Yeah, that was how I had reacted. Although, you couldn't blame me. My mind was being flooded.

Just a little thunder? Let me think on that for a moment. Considering that the place itself was name - The Thunder Plains - how did that ever give you the impression that it was just a little thunder? When 'said place' was named after that exact thing!

Great clashes of fluorescent white light had managed to make me a paranoid wreck. It had been my idea to come here in the first place, hiding inside the Travel Agency. And even though I was happy about the choice, I was now dreading the fact that I would have to go back outside and face the torrential hellish weather again.

It’s funny how a single moment of your life can change the way you think for an eternity. I was only about 6 years old at the time, and to be honest, I was certainly more carefree and outgoing at the time. After all, what 6 year old girl wasn’t a barrel of giggling mess? I ran around, throwing sand at the boys because I found it hilarious, and making sand castles, only to destroy them again for the pure delight of being able to cause an apocalyptic hell for my own imaginary sand kingdom.

When I grew older, I realised that it wasn’t much different in real life. All these religions and groups were nothing more than prejudiced cults, made simply because all the members held one thing in common, that they were different to everyone else, even though none of them actually knew each other, and their entire life based on the whole thought – “You’re different, we’re the same, therefore we’ll make a group just to prove the fact that its so”

All this thinking and all these memories seemed way too much for someone as butterfly-like as me. But really, if you described that butterfly as a little pink light that was slowly fading, carrying secret thoughts by the truck load, then you find something that compared better to me.

I sniffed the warm soft sheets, feeling a small comfort from being inside my own blanket cocoon. There was pitch blackness in here, something that I was longing for, after my eyes had practically been raped by the constant reminder of – “Oh yeah, Rikku ... we forgot to say, we’re called Lightning, and we’re going to crash into the ground every two seconds just to give you a heart attack!”

I fucking hated it.

6 years old and dancing in the sand, laughing at my brother, who had tripped down one of my many sand holes that I had dug into the ground.

“Rikku!”

And then that was it, I had turned round, giggling, girlishly, bright smiles. Little locks of yellow hair clouding my eyes. A little burst of laughter cut short by a scream of fright. I shuddered inside my cocoon of darkness, squinting my eyes tighter. The memory so real, that it might as well have been happening in the same room.

A great fat blob of Spiran juice had been floating towards me. Or rather, that’s what I used to call it, until I realised that they were called flans. The same name as a jelly-fruit sponge cake thing that Yevonites ate on a certain special day. Great, I had been attacked by something resembling a jelly cake. Poisonous eyes and translucent flesh waving around in the sand like some sort of chaotic nightmare. Sand flicked in my eyes, I coughed and cried, and my brother rushed over, throwing one hand out to cast a bolt of light.

I had always imagined what it would be like to be a mage, and as a child I had even fantasized about learning magic one day, but I never realized just how powerful it could be, until I had actually been struck by one.

6 years old, and struck by lightening.

That was me, the little blonde Al Bhed girl. Who had once been a giggling train wreck that could have toppled mountains with her amount of laughter, reduced to a screaming monster as the shock trembled through young limbs.

I had never seen my Father so angry.

And had never seen Brother so upset.

Father appeared from nowhere, like some great gallivanting antelope, jumping over me, slaying the flan with impossible speed, smacking Brother round the head a couple of times and cradling me in his arms, all at once. My dad really knew how to multi-task. So I guess that was where I got it from, and sadly, my brother must have been a bastard child, or adopted, because he seemed to have adopted no traits from either of my parents.

Since my mother had died, I guess my dad just turned into some sort of high flying super-Bhed ... no ... super-dad ... the word super-bed sounds funny. With powers of multi tasking and simultaneously beating my brother.

It was typical for most people in Spira, to only have one parent or many neither. Sometimes I didn’t even think about it, but occasionally I would catch myself thinking about my mum.

Not much to remember.

But still, it was nice to at least try.

I shivered. Memories came about so suddenly and randomly. Uncontrollable and unpredictable just like a mages magic. Which is another thing. Being jealous of the fact that Lulu was the best mage I had ever seen didn’t quite describe it. But it still didn’t stop me from jumping when she cast a great zap of light, sparking a forking blue light.

Forking blue light?

I giggled to myself.

Lulu could cast fucking blue lights.

I started laughing uncontrollably again.

And then I calmed down.

And then I stopped

I fell silent and sighed.

Once upon a time I would have giggled for hours about such a little joke, but now ... things just weren’t so funny any more. I fact, it was hard to try and find a good thing inside so many bad things. To try and put a positive spin on everything when actually, there just wasn’t anything good about it.

Limitless happiness?

Something like that just didn’t exist.

Even I was clever enough to know that.

I turned over, taking my cocoon with me, and then sighed.

Lulu was right ... in fact, she was always right. Sometimes, things just never changed. Some people want to change, but don’t have the will to. And then some people don’t want to, but do it without thinking. I was like that, a butterfly, curled up inside a hollowed out shell, a girl transforming into a shadow of herself. An empty thing that portrayed feelings of bright smiles, but with nothing behind them. An empty shell with a broken mask. A butterfly, transforming into something not so great, into something it didn’t want to be.

The lights in the room were off, the doors were closed, and I lay wrapped in the covers, wearing my top and shorts.

I was scared out of my freaking brain, but I was still accustomed to being polite when it came to not wearing boots in the bed. That was one thing you learned when you lived in the desert. Sand gets fucking everywhere.

Distant rolls of thunder were still outside, and even though Rin’s Establishment had tried hard to block out all the noise from the permanent storm, they hadn’t quite succeeded.

The room lit up with a sudden blare of energy and I screamed again.

Whimpering

Lonely

Two months ago I was dancing on the banks of the Moonflow with Yuna, who had seemed a little trepid at dancing in front of everyone. Long blue trails flying around in the wind, two cyan wings, fluttering, light, and gentle.

How those wings had begun to droop.

The further the journey, the closer to its end

And the closer the end ...

I gritted my teeth, knowing that the mattress was getting a little soggy with the tears.

Why did it have to happen? It just wasn’t fair. Why did I have to carry all this guilt and thoughts and no one else could. Tidus was so fucking ignorant I could almost repeatedly slap him until some form of sense knocked into ... either ‘common sense’ or the ‘sense of feeling pain!’ ... preferably the first one, but the second one would do me just fine.

I wasn’t going to let that happen.

This little butterfly wasn’t as weak as all those lifeless Yevonites, as most of those sheepish Al Bhed. Their lives and rules dictated by a higher force, blindingly following everything as if they were being led by the hands.

Just like that 6 year old girl of giggles that I used to be.

But this one had transformed. I was an adult now. Still 16 years of age, but certainly not a push over. Bearing blonde hair and green pool of swirling black. The constant reminder that – Oh yeah, Rikku. You’re the only Al Bhed around these parts. You’re different. Lets push and poke the foreign girl just to make fun of the fact that she’s different - But i didn’t care what they thought. Or rather, I did care, but it didn’t show.

People were mean.

Fact.

And I hated that fact just as much as I hated those people.

Even I found it surprising, just how much hate and anger could be found inside my own heart. Hatred should never breed more hatred. You should never fight hate with hate. But still ... it never stopped people from hating the people that hated them.

Confusing

But also true.

I tightened the cocoon around me, flinching at a series of lights that tore through the room. It was black, really black. But I could still see the light when it flashed, glowing through the thick bed sheets.

There was movement.

And I froze.

I had been crying and whimpering, letting out quiet sobs for the past 3 hours I had been alone in my room, transfixed on the storm outside, to my thoughts. Completely oblivious to the door opening and closing quietly. Just like pain and death, it snuck up on you when you were already worried about something else..

The bed moved and I instantly knew someone had sat down beside my silent cocoon of self-confusion and nightmares. The movement was too heavy to be Yuna, and too sudden to be the cold hearted Lulu, or even the girlishly light Tidus who deserved a series of slaps. And certainly not as clumsy as Wakka, who I really wanted to repeatedly kick in the shins. But it wasn’t as smooth or as gentle as Kimahri, who seemed to be the only nice one of the group simply for the fact that he didn’t talk much.

So it only left one option.

Only one other person.

I just thanked the fact that they couldn’t see my tears. And I couldn’t quite bring myself to emerge from my cocoon. So I just lay still, facing the person who was sitting in top of the sheets, able to just about feel the shape of their lower back and rump as I lay in my transformational foetal position, toes curled over, hands wrapped around my self.

They didn’t move either.

They didn’t speak.

I could hear breathing, slightly. Rough and deep, like someone who only took one breath every hour, crackling over used vocal cords, over something that had never been taken care of.

Someone who had never really taken care of themselves.

Only for others.

A broken flower.

I shut my eyes.

The great clash of light burst through the room again, my body tensed and a small cry of surprise came from the throat. The energy glowed through the blankets again, and I could make out the figure sitting next to me.

I shivered.

A hand gently placed itself on my side

And I instantly calmed down.

It’s funny. Such a simple gesture could make such a difference. Warmth was radiating through the already comfy sheets. The soft sheets to comfort my skin, and a hand to comfort my nerves. It didn’t seem out of place or strange, and in fact, I didn’t even protest to it. It showed me that at least there were some people that were thoughtful in this world.

But sadly, the people that took care of others...

Neglected them self.

And the people that took care of them self, tended to neglect others.

I was thankful for being the first one, even though it meant there would be times I’d find it extremely hard to cope with things, or listen, or even just be happy. If you make a promise to yourself to be happy, it’s one of the hardest things in the world. To get along with other people is easier than to understand yourself. And even though I think I know myself quite well ... I’m smart enough to know that it’s far from the truth.

I was comforted, even though it wouldn’t last forever. But I would cherish this moment for as long as I could.

Another flash of thunder tore its way across the walls, but this time, I remained relatively still. With the knowledge that someone was paying respect to my self-cocoon state. Able to smell a strong sense of alcoholic nog emitting from their clothes. Two broken butterflies, hiding in their cocoons of secretive thoughts. Putting up a front to the rest of the world, to be something that they once were, but never will be again. Scarred by death and pain, and knowing that there was more to come.

The stable and happy people were never that way in reality. Nothing is ever what you think it is in reality.

Reality sucks.

But this moment would stay in my mind forever. Memories are nice, and even though that’s all they are, they still provide me comfort ... even though I’ll never admit that. I never noticed how much I had changed, until this place made me remember how I had been at 6 years old.

At how he might have been two, once upon a time.

How two people were empty shadows of their previous selves.

The hand on my side tightened slightly, and a quiet voice emerged, rough. A noise moving over a broken man’s life, almost silent, so only the broken butterfly could hear-

“I know it’s hard”

I didn’t move. I just listened to the words of the man I realised I wasn’t so different to. Someone who had made a promise to take care of his best friend’s daughter and his comrades son. Talking to a woman, once a giggly girl, who made a promise to her own father to not let her cousin die.

“But it’s always better than being selfish”

I believed every word. I knew every word. But still, it hurt deep. And it was never going to fully heal. I bit my lip and let silent tears soak into the folds of my cocoon. A cocoon of dark blankets and self-protection, similar to the scarlet robe of the silent ex-monk, scarred by false beliefs, by blindingly following a religious lie. His hand tightened and I absorbed the moment, moving forward slightly to feel my head resting against his side, the form of his back against my knees. Needing comfort, just this once.

“Never change”

I cried silently and closed my eyes. Disappearing back into the depths of my empty darkness. You will never know just now much I have.

You will never know.

Fin