Thawed

Chapter One

It was the heart of winter in Macedon, New York. It was just above freezing, so of course the schools were open. There was hardly any snow on the ground, which is arguably better or worse. Icelyn stood at the end of the drive. While her fellow classmates huddled around each other for warmth, fuzzy hoods up, and backs against the frigid wind; she faced the freeze head on.

From an early age, it became apparent Icelyn was different. It started the first time she hurt herself when she fell from the monkey bars on the playground in preschool and scraped up her knee on the rocky terrain below. Everyone thought she was brave when she didn’t even let out a tear. It wasn’t until later, when she fell off the same monkey bars and broke her arm that they suspected she had congenital insensitivity to pain. In addition to her inability to feel physical pain, she was incapable of human emotions. As her mother sought help, words like Alexithymia, Schizoid, and Sociopath were thrown around. Even at the age of ten, she could tell her issues, whatever they may be, were tearing her mother apart. She could hear her sobbing to herself each night, into the early morning when she would finally fall asleep; only to have to wake up an hour later. Was it worth it to be herself when it was hurting the people around her?

She went into her next session with Dr. Julian and “opened up”. She sobbed, going on about how it was hard on her not growing up with a dad or knowing anything about him. And while most of what she said reached a mature level of understanding coming from someone her age, she managed to fake herself out of therapy. Once it was all over, her mother apologized for the absence of a father in Icelyn’s life; but they both knew she was just glad her little girl was normal.  

Icelyn stared up at the golden sun, wondering what it would have been like if she could feel. What was it like to be cold? To feel warmth? She only knew these feelings as described in a book, or by color association. But how do you describe a feeling?

The sound of Gabe’s rusty, beat-up pick-up truck could be heard before it climbed its way up the hill to her driveway. It clunked to a stop, letting a sigh out of the exhaust. He rolled down the window with a hand crank which were discontinued in the early 2000s. “Get in!” He hollered with bright smile on his face. His pale blue eyes glowed and his blond hair whipped around his head like a halo. He was too good for her. He wasn't necassarily star of the football team, but he was on it and the girls loved him for his sweet nature and warm smile. For Icelyn, Gabe was another way for her to appear normal. His steamy aura made her seem less frigid; less like the Ice Queen her fellow students often reffered to her as.

It was show time. Icelyn slapped on a smile and skipped to the passenger side. After hauling herself up and into the bucket seat, Gabe pulled her in close. “Where’s your coat?” He asked. He took her hands in his. “You’re freezing.”

She began to shiver. “I-I f-f-f-orgot my c-c-coat.” She stuttered, leaning into Gabe’s shoulder. He took off his navy blue coat, lined with tan wool, and wrapped it around her shoulders. Stuffing her hands into the pocket of his navy blue and gray jock jacket, he put the truck in drive.

It was not like it was a long drive to school, it was only twenty to twenty-five minutes, but as Icelyn’s birthday drew nearer, the dreams became more vivid and took over her concessness whenever they pleased. She stood, barefoot, in front of the castle of ice. It loomed before her, seven, eight stories tall. Snow fell from the sky like cotton balls and she could see her breath escaping from her mouth like cigarette smoke. The night was filled with the chorus of moaning and despair as the hands reached out from between the bars on castle windows, begging for escape. She walked towards the arched entry-way with icicles hanging down from above. The dream always ended the same way; with a flash of blue lightning illuminating the shadow figure looking down at Icelyn from the balcony above. Then she would wake; never seeing their face.

They were already in the school parking lot when Icelyn pulled herself from the dream world. “When did we get here?” She asked, sitting up against the seat.

“Not long.” Gabe’s side-smile told her it had been a while but he didn’t want to say. Any other girl might have felt a little creeped out knowing he just sat there the whole time watching her sleep, but Icelyn was used to guys watching her.

The two of them had a morning routine where Gabe walked her into the school and followed her to her locker and her first class like a puppy dog. “I’ll see you later,” Icelyn whispered as they stood outside Mrs. Harrison's art class.

Gabe stood outside the door until he watched her waltz into the classroom and sit down at the table next to the window. The sun glistened and the sky appeared clear, yet rain drizzled on the pavement. Typical weather for New York.

Icelyn waved at Gabe who was still lingering in the doorway. He blew her a kiss goodbye before darting off to class.

Rebecca, a red head with brown eyes who proclaimed herself as Icelyn's best friend, took her seat across from her. "You guys are so cute!"

Icelyn nodded. From the water producing itself from behind her eyelids and the faulty smile, Icelyn knew Rebecca was jealous. "You could have just said you liked Gabe."

Scarlet spread across Rebecca's freckled cheeks. Her eyelids fluttered like butterfly wings and she stuttered out a denial. "W-what? I-I d-don't like him! That is-is-is just... nuts."

Icelyn shrugged. "Whatever."

Rebecca opened and closed her mouth like a trout gasping for h2o.

"Besides, I am dumping him soon."

"Why?" she gasped, trying to mask her grin.

Another shrug. "Not my type."

Her brows pinched together, meeting at the center of her forehead, like the idea was too much to wrap her head around.

Icelyn's eye were focused on her sketch. "Do not do that. You will get wrinkles." Rebecca didn't bother to ask how Icelyn knew what expression she was making. She had become accustomed to Icelyn's ways and how she was always able to read her like an open book.

Their current assignment was to draw a place, in great detail and color it using pencil techniques they had learned the previous class; a method Icelyn had long since mastered.

Rebecca busied herself, trying to copy the picture she found of a castles online while Icelyn drew from memory.

Mrs. Harrison made her way around the classroom. When she reached Icelyn's table she paused to take in her penciled sketch of a jagged building which was both terrifying and intriguing; much like Icelyn herself. The building was large, the roof sharp like a needle. The windows were barred and hands reached outwards toward the sky. Mrs. Harrison shivered. "Good work."

After she moved on, Rebecca let out a sigh.

"It's not my fault," Icelyn responded to Rebecca's unspoken words. "You know things just come naturally for me." It wasn't that Icelyn was artistic or creative, she simply knew the facts. Sure, she could draw, but only what she saw. What Icelyn lacked was the ability to put emotion into her drawings.

Rebecca looked from Icelyn's gothic sketch to her poor portrayal of a colorful castle with large arches and open windows. She resisted the urge to tear it apart.

Icelyn ignored the soft vibration through the table as Rebecca's muscles tensed.