Adelaide Literary Magazine - 9 years, 70 issues, and over 2800 published poems, short stories, and essays

LIKE A BUTTERFLY

ALM No.67, August 2024

SHORT STORIES

KELLEIGH M. MURRAY

7/28/20245 min read

After five long, lousy years of marriage, today was the day. The judge finally granted the divorce. It was an unpleasant process. Divorce. I never imagined when walking down that aisle in my flowing white gown trimmed in pearls, and saying my vows, that it would end like this. But here I was.

Leaving the courtroom, I felt like a butterfly with new wings, free to fly away. No longer tied in unholy matrimony to this narcissistic pig. No longer trapped. When he entered the elevator after me, the smell of his gas station cologne invaded my nostrils. Wonderful, I sarcastically thought to myself. My hands began to sweat from the anxiety I felt.

“Bitch,” he said, as he pressed the lobby button. He looked right at me when he said it too. I could see his stupid blue eyes gazing at me through his finger-print smudged glasses. As much as I hated to admit it, his words still cut me. He liked doing that. Saying things to try to pick a fight. It’s what he always did - so I would get mad, so I would yell, so I would look like the mad one. It was the ultimate chess game of playing the victim with him.

He knew I feared him. Being in his presence made my heart feel like it would beat out of my chest, and not in the way that sparks passion. This was a panic-stricken fear. Fear of how he’d touch me. Fear of what he would do or say next. He was like a venomous cobra, poised to strike, and no one would be around to save me. He loved that I was scared, and he took full advantage of that.

His ego oozed out of his pores. Whether it was his short height, the obvious swath of combed-over hair he tried to disguise his balding skull with, or the enlarged belly that hung over his belt, he tried to compensate for all of that with his attitude. How I ever once found him endearing…?

“Excuse you,” I said. I was going to leave the conversation be. But the word “bitch” just hung in the air in front of my face. Being dangled like a carrot. All my mind could recall was years of being lied to, cheated on, followed, used, struck, stalked.

I could feel the emotions inside of me, all the way down to my toes. Like a burning heat, it began to spread throughout my body, until I was on fire. Maybe it was the finality of our marriage that finally gave me the balls to say what I wanted to say for years. What I held locked inside, like my own personal secret.

“You know what? No…ENOUGH! I’ve had enough of your abuse. For years, you treated me like garbage. Cheating on me. Stalking me. Following me. Monitoring my every

move. I have feared you. Feared being around you. Feared seeing you. But I am done. I’ve been done for a long time. This is the last time you’ll ever speak to me like this,” I hissed at him.

I could feel the rage welling up inside of me. Like a pressure cooker, it just built and built until I was ready to burst. Years of rage I tried to hide, to tuck away into the depths of my soul. My eyes were getting moist with tears I tried to suppress. My throat tightened, and my cheeks began to burn. “Keep it inside girl…don’t let him see you upset,” my brain screamed at me. Right. Keep it together. I can do this.

He looked away and just scoffed. The elevator car began its slow descent. Slower than it should have been moving, I thought. And then with a loud THUNK, the car slammed to a stop. My body lurched forward, and he sidestepped me, so I’d fall onto the floor. My face landed right next to his filthy sneakers. The lights flickered long enough for me to see we were between the 17th and 18th floors. Stuck. And then total blackness.

“What the hell,” I said, as I held up my phone and tried to use its light to see. Pressing the red emergency button, we were met with silence. Nothing happened. No alarm, no voices, nothing.

“Good job, idiot,” Brock said to me.

“How is this my fault, you asshole?” I replied.

“Everything is your fault. You’re stupid. You’re fat. You can’t cook, you can’t clean a house, you couldn’t even keep a man around. Ha, you’re useless.”

This is how I die, I thought to myself. This is how it happens. I knew it. Stuck with him. Ultimate punishment. Whatever I did in a previous life to deserve this – what a joke this was. My chest began to tighten, as the panic began to set in. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The air in my chest was heavy, dense. I mashed every button. I banged on the doors. Nothing was working to escape this 8’ x 10’ box of hell.

Suddenly, the elevator jolted and fell for what felt like an eternity but must’ve just been a few seconds. The lights flickered again, and we were now dangling around floor 9.

Brock kept trying to use his phone, but neither of us had signal. He glared over at me and cackled. “You know your friend Veronica? She was an easy one,” he said.

Oh, I thought to myself. He’s really going there. I ignored him. I was certain I knew what he was trying to tell me. And I was certain he was full of shit.

“Kathy? She was good too. And don’t even get me started on Melanie,” he continued.

Melanie. My stepsister. The one I envied. With her long, luscious blonde curly locks. Green eyes. Her c-cups. Her long, tan legs. He eye-fucked her the moment I introduced them at my dad’s retirement party. Much like he did to all my friends, acquaintances, and co-workers. Again, how I once found him endearing…?

“You’re disgusting,” I somehow managed to say. My throat was so tight – so dry. That feeling you get right before the dam of tears in your eye’s bursts, and you emotionally melt. But not today. I resolved I was done. I couldn’t take another word, another moment.

I stood and reached into my purse. I had a small pocketknife I always carried with me. My dad insisted after my last restraining order expired. I fingered the smooth plastic casing and quietly pulled it out of my bag. I flung the knife open and lunged toward Brock, plunging the 3” blade into the side of his neck. I pulled it out and continued to gore him. In and out. In and out. In and out, until his body slumped on the sticky floor by my feet.

“Holy shit. I did it. I did it. OhmygodwhatdoIdonow……,” the words just spilled out of my mouth. I was spiraling. This was beyond a freak out. The elevator began to move again. Slowly, but it was moving. Surely, I wasn’t imagining it. And when it landed on the bottom floor, gently, a wave of panic hit me. What would happen when those doors opened?

I took a deep breath and gingerly stepped over his body, tracking footprints of blood behind me. Before I headed out the thick glass court building doors, I dropped the knife at my feet.

“There’s a body on the elevator,” I said to no one in particular.

Not looking back, I stepped outside and felt the hot sun hit my face. The blue sky looked so clear. And like a butterfly with her new wings, I flew away.

Kelleigh Murray grew up in Buffalo, NY, and resides in Winter Garden, FL. She loves writing poetry and flash fiction. Kelleigh is a Media Communications student at Full Sail University when she's not writing. She spends her free time with her guinea pigs, rabbits, and dog. She can also be found at Disney World regularly, getting inspiration for her next story! Follow her on X - @TatDisneyGurl