Past: Run

"You're safe, Butterfly," said a soft, soothing voice. "They are gone. They can't get to you."

She struggled a bit more, thrashing in the man's arms until her breaths were coming out in ragged pants.

"They can't hurt you, Butterfly." It was the same soothing voice, but she had learned what those soft words could do, learned what horrible things people did after speaking them. She would not allow it again, not after everything...

Someone walked into the room, tall with long beautiful black hair. The woman glanced briefly at her, but then looked to the man holding her. "Sir, they have ran back to wherever they came from. Would you like us to keep an eye out?"

"Yes. And tell the others to also not say a word. I don't want this spreading just in case there could be a bigger problem."

"I understand." The woman glanced at her again, gave a small smile. "I will go get some amenities for you, so everyone is comfortable."

"Thank you." The woman left and she was stuck staring after her, confused by what she just heard. Behind her, the man sighed and slowly loosened his grip on her until his arms were gone, but then he turned her around to face him. She was not afraid. No matter that her heart raced and her skin felt ready to crawl off. "Butterfly, can you tell me what's going on?" he asked, voice still so soothing.

She gulped. Looked around for any sign they were not alone. Didn't dare look at him when she said, "I did something horrible." That is all she would say, she swore it.

"What kind of horrible?"

She shook her head.

A hand appeared, going under her chin to move her face so she could look at him. She resisted. "Can I ask what for?"

Her eyes narrowed. Without her consent, the words gritted from her throat. "They deserved it!"

A chuckle. "Fair enough. Tell me your name, Butterfly."

Without thinking, she looked at him. Unique orange eyes stared back at her, soft and open. A handsome face with straight lines and a hard jaw, laugh lines spreading from those beautiful eyes, darkly tan skin. She blinked. She didn't think she had ever seen a more striking man before. Softly, still mesmerized by his beauty, she said, "I don't trust you."

The man shrugged and stepped back once. "Again, fair."

"Where am I?" she asked, looking around at the large room with comfy looking couches and a large tv hanging on the wall. There was a glass table with mail on it, and a bookshelf that held movies, not books. Behind her was the door leading to the outside, where the woman disappeared to. To her left was a doorway that led into another room. She thought perhaps the kitchen, but wasn't sure.

"My home," he said casually, sinking down onto a leather couch. "Where is yours?"

She looked away from him, down to her muddy shoes. "I don't have one. Not anymore."

There was silence before the man grabbed something from beside him. "This is interesting. Where did you get it?"

She looked back at him and saw he held up a glittering stone. It was unlike any other in this world. She took a step forward, wanting to grab it and run, but his orange eyes halted her, made her understand that he would give it back. "It's mine. My father gave it to me."

The man smiled. "It's beautiful, Butterfly. Let me find something for you," he said and stood up, walking away.

"Where are you going?" she nearly shouted, afraid he'd hide the stone from her.

He paused, glancing at her. "You should carry your stones in a better way. I have something that will bell."

"Why?"

Again, he smiled. "Because I do not think those who were chasing you were going to stop unless I interfered, and if you go running again, I want to make sure you don't lose your property. Is that fair?"

She gaped at him. No one had ever helped her before, not like this. She growled inwardly at herself. "Can I come?" she asked, taking a step towards him.

The man gazed at her for a long moment, calculation in his eyes. "On one condition."

She stiffened. She hated bargaining.

"You tell me who they are."

"People my father worked for," she said instantly.

The man raised a brow.

She crossed her arms. "I don't know exactly. All I know is that they want those." She nodded to the stone in his hand.

"How many do you have?"

"Thirteen."

He nodded. "Come."

She followed him through a dining room, then into a hallway, and finally to a door that lead down into a basement. He turned on a light and stepped down the rickety stairs, going straight for a large chest. It was wooden, something you might see on a pirate ship. When he opened it, she expected to find gold, but instead, there were scrolls and paper and other things she couldn't identify. He dug to the bottom and brought out a satchel. It looked like it had seen better days. He set it beside him, then brought out a box. This was decorated with golden swirls against a deep blue velvety type fabric covering the foundations. He turned and sat down, cross legged in front of her. Opening the box, she saw the inside was lined with a deep red velvet, holding a sharp knife. The man set the knife aside and, to her shock and utter delight, opened a secret compartment. He set the stone in the compartment and looked up at her. She hesitantly walked over and knelt. "It's beautiful," she breathed.

"Perfect for your stones?" he asked, a grin curving his lips.

She rewarded him with a small smile. Nodding, she reached into all her pockets and brought out the other twelve stones, each as different and unique as the next. Most were just a single color, but four were like kaleidoscopes: many colors ebbing and flowing within, swirling in an endless fog that caught the eye and held it. Those stones, the kaleidoscopic ones, were the most powerful, was what her father had said.

She put each stone into the box gently, having the kaleidoscopic four at each corner. The man watched, silent as she worked, but alert nonetheless. When she sat back and gazed at them, he asked, "Why is the black one in the center?"

"It must," was all she gave him. It was too dangerous to tell him that with the barrier of the other stones, the black wouldn't hurt anyone. Because while the kaleidoscopic stones were the most powerful, the black-or the thaed- stone was the most fatal.

"Watch closely," the man said. He took the inner lid and let it close, then pressed lightly, until there was a soft thump. Then, he set the knife in its place and closed the box. With eyes on her, he said, "Close." There was a locking mechanism sound before a click. He scooted the box towards her. "Try and open it."

She tried to pry it open, but it didn't budge. She picked the box up and examined it, but saw nothing to help her. "I didn't hear you say anything when you grabbed it," she said, putting it down.

He smiled. "To open, just say 'open.' And same with closing it. Once the box is shut and the word said, it will not open. If you want it to open, but are around other people, say the same word in a different language." He put the box in her hands, orange eyes serious. "Like I said, Butterfly. We don't want these getting into their hands."

She nodded and gazed down at the box. "Where did it come from?"

"I had it made," he said and picked up the ragged satchel beside him. "The knife is special. I wanted something to keep it safe if my knife was stolen."

"The hidden compartment?"

"Just something extra. I didn't know if there might be something else that I might need to hide, so I asked for the compartment."

She hugged the box to her. "Why are you giving it to me? Your knife-"

He put a finger to her lips, eyes soft, gentle as they held hers. "Don't ask that question, Butterfly. I only ask that when I ask, you give the knife to me. The box is yours. But the knife is mine and I do not want it in the wrong hands. I'm trusting you. As I know your stones are precious , I am giving you the privilege to keep them and my knife safe."

He didn't need to explain how important it was to him. She could see it. "I will give it to you whenever you ask for it," she promised. Looking away, she closed her eyes. "Thank you."

The man did not acknowledge her thanks, but looked at his satchel. "One more thing." She watched as he took the box-the most precious box she had ever held in her life-and place it inside the satchel. She blinked. The satchel was so small, so worn, how did it...

"This satchel is also special," he said and opened it to show her.

She saw nothing. Her heart stopped. "The box!"

He chuckled and took her hand. "Reach inside, Butterfly."

She did, and felt the box, right there. Her eyes went wide before her mind finally lit up with the realization that both surprised and scared her.