A/N: I wrote this story I had the idea for during dinner and then I just had to write, so there will be errors, just do me the favor of reviewing to correct them. Can anyone tell me why there isn't a category for "Death"? Please? Thanks! Angel

A young man stands behind a girl in a hospital bed. Suddenly, the girl opens her eyes.

“Eric!” she cries out in a fevered tone. “Eric!”

“I’m here, Isabella, I’m here!” the young man, Eric, rushes to Isabella’s side.

“The butterflies, Eric. They’re so pretty!” she says, staring at a corner in the white room. Eric looks at her in confusion.

“Butterflies?” he whispers.

“Can’t you see them?! Can’t you see them too?!” she cries out, stricken tears welling in her eyes. Her thin frame shakes as she starts to sob.

“Shhh! Shhh! It’s okay, it’s okay,” Eric tries to comfort her softly. Isabella’s long, tangled black hair stands out sharply against the white walls, bed, pillows, chairs, even her skin as she sits up quickly.

“Isabella!” Eric exclaims in shock. Silent tears steam like a river down her gaunt, bleached cheeks. She is fragile and pale from living in a hospital. Her hospital gown hangs loosely from too-thin shoulders. The light and life has been drained even from her once bright green eyes.

“The butterflies, Eric. Don’t you see them too?” she asks, obviously in her own world.

It’s probably just the medicine, Eric thinks to himself as he looks anxiously down at his sister’s slight form. She has had episodes like this before. Hallucinations, he assured himself. But he knows it’s not true. She has never been this sure, or sad that he couldn’t see them too. Ever since she had been diagnosed with a brain tumor and had started living at the hospital she’d been seeing butterflies. Always butterflies. She would describe them to Eric. She could describe them so well that he was almost sure he was seeing them too. Eric smiles at a memory.

“Look, Eric! There’s a red one! Ohh, I’ve never seen such a vibrant green! Oh, the blue one looks like the ocean. Can we go to the ocean tomorrow, Eric? Please?” Isabella begged, trying to look as pitiful as possible.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Eric barely managed to whisper, his throat suddenly dry. His baby sister didn’t realize that she was hospitalized with a brain tumor. Oh well, the more peacefully she went, the better, for everyone.

Isabella’s rasping voice snapped Eric out of his memory.

“The butterflies...” she whispers softly. “The butterflies...” Eric has to lean down and put his ear near her mouth to hear what she is saying.

“Shhh, a doctor will be here soon, shhh.”

“No, no doctor, no...the butterflies...want to take me somewhere...I don’t want to leave you...such pretty butterflies...” she breathes. “Eric, butterflies...a fountain...butterflies...” and with that, she breathes one last time, and is gone. Eric puts his head on her lap and begins to weep.