And Just A Touch of Death

Part I

7:43 am

Winter was running late.

She forgot to set her alarm the night before, so she was awoken to her mother banging on her door half and hour later then her normal wake up time, stating that Winter better be up and that she was already leaving for work.

Winter had shot out of bed and ran around her apartment like an out of control tornado, brushing her teeth while combing her hair and trying to slip on her shoes. Within a record time of roughly eight minutes, Winter had stumbled out of her apartment fully dressed with her backpack slung over her shoulder. Just before she went to lock the door, she caught sight of an orange fluffy tail swaying back and forth on the counter top.

"Goodbye, Meatball." Winter said, petting the cat's back and gently kissing its forehead. She waits for any sort of feeling; a pull in her gut, a burning in her veins, but alas, nothing. Meatball's death was not close at all.

Winter smiled for a second, then realized she was running forty minutes behind schedule, and immediately went back into panic mode. She rushed out of the apartment, locked the door, and practically threw herself down the five flights of stairs it took to reach the ground floor.

Curse this apartment building and its broken elevator.

Just as Winter had sprinted towards the bus stop, said bus was already driving away, leaving her in a cloud of exhaust.

"Fuck." Winter said, breathing heavily.

And thus began a thirty minute walk- or 25 minute sprint- to school.

Winter bursted through the school's front double doors and glanced down at her watch; she's got exactly two minutes before the late bell rings. She could do it; she could make it.

She has to. If she's late- which she won't be- then that would make it her third tardy this semester. (And it was only March...Winter needed to buy a better alarm clock. Or at least remember to set the one she has.)

And if you have three tardies, then you serve a week of after school detention, which was something Winter was not going to do. Which meant she would not be late.

Winter sprinted down the now empty hall- everyone was already probably in class by now- and rounded the corner to where her homeroom class was-

-Only to slam right into another body. It was like running straight into a brick wall. Before Winter could fall flat on her ass, the person she had run right into grabbed the sides of her arms to steady her.

And that's when she felt it: the strongest tug in her gut she's ever felt, a chill in her veins so cold it burned, her heart beating so fast and loud it might explode, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, she couldn't-

"Whoa, sorry!" The person said above her. Winter gazed upwards and was met with eyes the color of honey that belong to none other than her friend, Robin Sterling.

Robin Sterling was nicknamed "Mr. Perfect" and for good reason. He was absolutely gorgeous, with his sandy blond hair and broad shoulders and blindingly white smile. He was a straight A student, the captain of the lacrosse team, and overall, he had the personality of an overexcited puppy. It was very difficult to hate him, which is why everyone loves him.

"Are you okay? I-I didn't see you there, I'm sorry." Robin apologized. He took his hands off of her, and the tug in her gut and the burning in her veins lessened, but the aftershocks still lingered. Robin bent down to pick up her backpack, which had slid off of Winter's shoulder during their collision. He handed it to her.

Winter just stared at him.

There was a few seconds of just awkward silence, where Winter stared, shocked, at Robin, and Robin stared, confused, at Winter.

"Winter?" Robin said her name, arching an eyebrow. "Are you okay?"

Winter's mouth felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton. She commanded her tongue to work. "Uh- yeah, but uh...are you okay?"

Robin shrugged. "Yeah, I'm fine."

No, you're not.

Winter realized at this moment that Robin was still holding her backpack and she was still running late.

Shit.

She quickly took her backpack from Robin, muttering a quick "thanks" as she slung it over her shoulders.

"I'm sorry for running into you." Winter said. "I didn't see where I was-"

"It's fine." Robin waved her off.

Winter checked her watch. Thirty seconds. "I've gotta go, but um...I'll see you in, uh, Algebra?"

Robin gave her a small smile. "Yeah."

Winter then made a mad dash around the corner and down the hall, where she crossed the threshold of her homeroom classroom ten seconds before the late bell rang.

She sat down in her seat, trembling, the lingering feelings of what she had felt when Robin had touched her rolling through her body in waves.

She only felt a sense like that so strong when someone was on their deathbed.

She had felt it as she held her grandfather's hand as he laid in his hospital bed, dying from brain cancer.

She had felt it when her sister was about to cross the street, but Winter had pulled her back just in time to save her from a car running a red light.

She had felt it while cradling their last cat, Oreo, who was dying of old age.

And she has felt it now, the area on her arms where Robin had touched burning as if someone had branded her.

Robin Sterling was going to die soon.