Sometimes memories come out of nowhere. The past overwhelms the present. In a key moment, it can even change the future. Which is why my wrists are currently zip-tied behind my back.

I was drunk when I did it the first time. It wasn’t for a job either. Back then I was just a kid who liked knives. My nickname ‘Butterfly’ even came from my favorite one, a sleek shiny thing that danced in my hands.

That night I was drunk, horny and angry. My on-again, off-again boyfriend had cancelled on me for the third night in a row and I was looking for trouble. The two douchy college guys just happen to be in the right place at the wrong time. When they started touching me, I touched them back with steel fingers that drew blood in long straight lines. They died before I knew what had happened but I knew I had missed something special. I stopped drinking after that.

Memories of grabbing hands crept up on me while I was taking care of tonight’s customer. Lost in the past, I panicked and got sloppy. Worse, I got caught.