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Chapter 21

{tw:// suicidal thoughts/attempt.}
[National Suicide Prevention Lifeline #: 1-800-273-8255]

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It is snowing outside.

I watched as the snow fell silently on the ground, painting it white.

Everything was white.

My hair had turned white.

My clothes...white.

The temperature is below zero.

It's approximately forty degrees below zero.

I'm freezing.

I'm freezing so much.

I'm freezing but I'm so warm.

It's the kind of warmth that feels like acid.

The kind of warmth that gives you intoxicating pain.

My skin is burning.

My limbs are on fire.

I don't think I can feel my fingers anymore.

I don't think I can feel my body anymore.

It hurts.

My snow-white lips are trembling.

I shouldn't have gone outside on a simple t-shirt and shorts.

I shouldn't have.

But I did.

It is rumoured that the heat can kill us.

The Inks.

Truth is, the cold consists of heavier bullets.

The cold can burn you alive.

But the heat can't freeze you.

"Canton, come inside. There's someone I want you to meet."

My father's authoritative voice echoed through my head.

It felt distant.

Far away.

I took a deep breath.

And then exhaled.

Slowly.

I walked inside just as slowly.

Maybe my heart will stop beating in the process.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

It didn't.

I glanced at my father and then at the stranger that was standing in front of me.

I blinked.

"You could have walked faster." My father mumbled.

I heard it.

I always hear what he's trying to say under his breath.

Maybe he's not trying enough.

And if he saw the clothes I was wearing and my now blue skin, he didn't comment on it.

He never does.

I turned my attention to the stranger.

Confident.

The first thing I noticed.