Reaper Butterfly

Every time my husband beats me on his livestream, I have to secretly touch up my fake bruises on the floor. If I am even a second too slow, the cuts and gashes heal right in front of the camera. Honestly, this godforsaken healing factor is a nightmare. But during today’s stream, a highly annoying comment floated across the screen. “Bro, stop hitting her. Your wife isn’t human. She is a Reaper Butterfly. Once the pupa breaks, it feeds on human flesh!” I fluttered my invisible, innocent wings. Oh my. Looks like someone finally figured it out. Too bad it is already way too late. 1 Just because I said “thank you” to the delivery guy, my husband, Dexter, grabbed me by the hair and threw me across the room in front of thousands of viewers. “You shameless sl*t! Are you that desperate for male attention? If you do not talk to another man for a single day, do you just lose your mind?” Instead of getting angry, I kept apologizing to him. I even dropped to my knees, hugging his leg, swearing I would never do it again. The viewers were absolutely furious, flooding the chat to curse out our completely twisted dynamic. “Does this woman have some kind of abuse kink? She is gorgeous. Why the hell is she staying with this worthless piece of trash just to get beaten every day?” “Any OG fans here? Is this a scripted bit? Because that hit looked way too real.” “Everyone just mind your own business. The neighbors called the cops on them multiple times. Last time, she was beaten so badly she ended up in the ICU. But she literally told the cops it was a private marital issue. Stop wasting your pity on her!” Dexter watched the superchats and digital gifts flooding the screen. The money made him manic. “Keep the gifts coming, boys! I am going to show you what a real man looks like!” “A good wife is molded by discipline! Women are wired to submit. The harder you hit her, the more she begs you to stay!” Dexter’s entire channel revolved around him abusing and “training” me. Every time my face was swollen and bruised, he raked in a massive wave of donations from toxic viewers. To keep the hype going, Dexter pinned me to the floor and rained heavy punches down on me. He did not stop until I lay there, my eyes rolling back into my head. But before I could carefully act out my recovery and crawl back up, I realized the severe lacerations from his knuckles were already closing. Speechless. This absurd healing factor was going to blow my cover. I discreetly reached into my pocket, smearing a fresh layer of FX makeup and fake blood over my face. When the camera finally caught me again, my eyes were blackened, my cheeks were swollen, and terrifying gashes lined my jaw. I looked absolutely pathetic. Coupled with my continued gentle, subservient behavior, I looked like the perfect, broken maid. This made a bunch of jealous male viewers completely lose their minds. They kept spamming the chat, demanding to know how Dexter managed to bag a woman like me. Dexter was visibly out of breath. He panted heavily before smirking at the camera. “My wife is just naturally built for this. The more I discipline her, the better she behaves. If I skip a day, she practically begs for it!” The comment section was completely polarized. Half the people were violently criticizing him, and the other half were praising his “alpha” control over his household. Suddenly, a bizarre comment popped up out of nowhere. A user named CryptidWatcher typed a message in bold red text. “Your wife is not a human being. Only a Reaper Butterfly possesses a skin suit that flawless.” 2 “You playing fantasy RPGs in the chat, bro? If my wife is a killer butterfly, then I am the God of War!” Being mocked by the entire chat did not deter CryptidWatcher at all. He started dropping biological lore. “The Reaper Butterfly, also known as the Tiger-Banded Flesh-Eater, is infamous for its terrifying carnivorous nature. In 1966, a boy collecting insect specimens accidentally stumbled into a swarm of them. He was picked completely clean down to his skeleton in minutes. That is why they are called Reaper Butterflies.” He probably thought he was helping, but his warning only drew more insults. “Even if you are jealous that his wife is hot, you do not have to make up schizo conspiracy theories! Has she not suffered enough?” “Exactly! How the hell does a butterfly turn into a person? Wake up, buddy, this is not a sci-fi movie!” Some viewers even accused CryptidWatcher of being a paid actor, claiming this was just a new script Dexter wrote for views. Dexter started to panic. He was terrified that this weirdo was going to ruin his cash flow. He reached for his mouse to ban the user. But then another message popped up. “Has your wife ever been pronounced dead by doctors, only to mysteriously come back to life?” “And ever since then, you have been having night terrors, right? The scales on a Reaper Butterfly carry a potent, hallucinogenic neurotoxin. The more you beat her, the more of that dust you inhale. Eventually, you will just become her food.” Reading those words, Dexter froze. He never used to dream. But ever since we got together, he was plagued by suffocating nightmares every single night. Sometimes, he could not even tell the difference between reality and his dreams. Three months ago, he got blackout drunk and hit me way too hard. He practically beat me to death. When they rushed me to the hospital, the doctors pronounced me dead on arrival. But an hour after the time of death, I crawled right out of the morgue. The story of the dead woman coming back to life had dominated the local news for a week. Most importantly, he suddenly realized I never seemed to sweat. Even in the dead of summer, my skin was always cool and dry. Cold sweat began to bead on Dexter’s forehead. The more he thought about it, the more terrified he became. He shot a highly unnatural, paranoid glance in my direction. “So what do I do?” Dexter typed back quietly on his phone. “If you do not believe me, sneak in on her while she is taking a shower. I guarantee you she never lets a single drop of water touch her skin. If I am wrong, I will gift you ten superchats right now!” The live chat exploded again. “Are you that down bad, dude? You are trying to trick this guy into streaming his wife in the shower?” “Streamer, you are not actually going to force your wife to bathe on camera to prove a point, right?” “Yo, do it! If you stream her in the bathroom, I will drop a thousand bucks right now!” The endless stream of donations and hype made Dexter’s eyes light up. Right at this moment, his concurrent viewer count broke one million. His subscriber count was skyrocketing. Sure, most of them were cursing him and the CryptidWatcher guy out, but traffic was traffic. Dexter’s eyes shifted. He made a split-second decision. “Keep the donations coming, boys! Tonight, we are going myth-busting. We are going to see if this CryptidWatcher is full of crap!” 3 Whether his wife was human or not, shouldn’t a husband know best? In Dexter’s mind, he had already labeled this user as a troll. The guy just saw that beating women generated traffic and wanted to create a viral gimmick to piggyback off the clout. Dexter figured he might as well play along and scam the guy out of his ten superchats first. He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me across the hallway, throwing me onto the bathroom tiles. He slammed the door shut, locking us inside, and gave the camera a contemptuous smirk. “Look at this. Have you ever seen a man-eating butterfly look this pathetic?” The chat was spamming laughing emojis. They started a countdown, waiting for Dexter to force me under the water. I looked up at my battered, bruised reflection in the mirror. Ever since Dexter became a millionaire streamer off the back of domestic abuse, I made sure to encourage him. Every time he hit me, I would cry and tell him to hit me harder. With every impact, invisible scales fluttering with a pearlescent glow fell from my body. He inhaled every single speck of it into his lungs. The more he breathed in, the closer he got to becoming my personal puppet. I was squatting on the floor, pretending to scrub the tiles, just like normal. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my scalp. Dexter was dragging me toward the tub. His phone screen was completely covered in notifications. Digital cars, yachts, and diamond rings were flashing endlessly, as if money meant nothing. He was completely blinded by the viral fame. He grabbed my wrists and shoved me hard against the cold porcelain. “Hurry up! Take a shower for the camera!” 4 My knee slammed into the edge of the cabinet. I curled into a tight ball, acting as though I was in agonizing pain. The viewers were starting to feel sick. The chat flooded with people begging Dexter to stop. This killer butterfly thing was obvious bullshit! Dexter ignored them. He aggressively grabbed the showerhead, turned the cold water on full blast, and sprayed me from head to toe. The icy water plastered my hair to my face and soaked right through my clothes. I looked utterly helpless and broken. My species absolutely despises water. When moisture clings to our bodies, it feels thick and suffocating. In the wild, if a butterfly falls into a puddle, the heavy water droplets weigh down its fragile wings, stripping away its ability to fly. Once we lose our mobility, it basically means a death sentence. I grabbed the hem of Dexter’s shirt, crying helplessly, begging him to stop being angry. But even after ten minutes of being drenched in cold water, my body did not change at all. I did not lose control of my mind. I just stayed exactly as I was a weeping, terrified woman. Seeing my fragile, shivering frame, the audience completely turned on CryptidWatcher. They spammed the chat with death threats aimed at him. It took a long time before CryptidWatcher finally sent another message. “I understand now. The Reaper Butterfly did not shapeshift into your wife. It is parasitically attached to your wife’s nervous system. That is why the body does not react to water.” I looked directly at the camera lens and offered a sweet, innocent, terrified smile. Well, well. Who knew there was actually someone left in this world who understood the parasitic secrets of the Reaper Butterfly? 5 My kind has one highly specialized ability. We can sever our consciousness from our physical form and parasitize a host. It is a shame that recognizing it will not save him. “Get out of here, you scammer! First you say my wife is a bug that hates water. I just proved you wrong. She is a living, breathing human being.” “Now you are starting rumors that she is infected with a parasite? You are just trying to get out of paying up!” Dexter was genuinely furious. This CryptidWatcher guy had not sent the ten superchats he promised! “Streamer, listen to me. The day the butterfly breaks out of its cocoon is the day you die. Run. Run right now!” CryptidWatcher added dozens of exclamation points at the end of his message. It looked incredibly eerie on the screen. Dexter glared at the text. Furious, he instantly banned CryptidWatcher from the channel, cursing him out for being a psycho. A sinister, dark glint flashed in Dexter’s eyes. It was chilling to watch. The viewers were still riled up. They felt scammed by the lack of a supernatural reveal and started threatening to unfollow the channel. Seeing his numbers drop, Dexter panicked. He immediately grabbed me by the throat and slammed me against the bathroom wall. His massive fists crashed down onto my body. I trembled like a leaf in the wind, helplessly wrapping my arms around my head. My screams and desperate begging filled the room. Instantly, the viewer engagement spiked again. The digital gifts resumed their endless flow. About ten minutes later, Dexter stood over me, panting heavily. He looked at the screen with absolute satisfaction. “Alright boys, that is enough discipline for today. Do not want some white knight calling the cops again. If you are new here, hit that follow button so you do not miss the next stream!” The chat went wild. “Honestly curious. Are you not worried you are going to accidentally beat her to death one day?” Dexter let out a cruel sneer and spat on the floor next to me. “My wife is cheap trash. She is practically immortal. Do not worry about it. If she dies, I will take the charge! Just drop a follow for your boy Dexter!” Watching his follower count surge by another hundred thousand, Dexter smugly ended the stream. He grabbed his jacket and walked out the front door to go drinking, completely unbothered. Once his footsteps faded away, I stretched my stiffened limbs. I reached up and casually snapped several dislocated bones back into place. The cracking sound echoed through the empty house. I adjusted my slightly fractured jaw. This man really did hit hard. It was a shame that this level of pain felt like an absolute tickle to me. Dexter was right about one thing. I really could not be beaten to death. Because the person he actually killed was already gone. 6 I am the very last Reaper Butterfly in this world. Three months ago, I watched with my own eyes as Dexter slowly, brutally murdered a gentle, kindhearted girl. I had been severely burned in a forest fire. That girl found me and saved me. She kept me in her room, carefully nursing me back to health. I still remember her smile. It was so pure. It was blindingly bright. Every beautiful word in the human language would not be enough to describe her. She called me Little Wing. She told me I was her precious treasure. It was a tragedy that such a perfect girl was trapped in a living hell. Her husband, Dexter, was not just a domestic abuser. He was a violent poacher. He made his living slaughtering endangered animals deep in the mountains. The moment he saw me, he recognized my rare, stunning wing patterns. He knew I would fetch a massive price from black-market specimen collectors. To stop him from selling me, the girl secretly opened the window and set me free. When Dexter realized his payday was gone, he lost his mind. Fueled by cheap liquor, he completely stripped away his own humanity. He slammed his fists into her fragile body over and over again. “You stupid b*tch! You ruined my money! I am going to kill you!” Stab after stab. Bright crimson blood poured from her body, soaking entirely through the living room rug. Such a beautiful, selfless girl, stabbed to death by her own husband all to protect a tiny, insignificant butterfly. In the very last second before she stopped breathing, I swooped down and pierced her skin with my parasitic stinger. But this kind of parasitism comes at a devastating cost. I had to sacrifice my original body. A Reaper Butterfly can live for three hundred years. Humans barely live to see a century. But for the sake of revenge, I was willing to sacrifice everything. When I opened my eyes again, I was her. My powerful regenerative abilities rapidly glued her shattered body back together. Her fading life force flared back into existence. People online always asked why I refused to leave Dexter after being beaten so mercilessly. I would never leave. This was a grand, meticulously planned feast, and I was just getting started.

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