snowbound - south park's new kid

chapter 1 - tangled beginnings

Elsie perches gingerly at the edge of a perfectly made bed, a bed that isn't hers, in a room that definitely isn't hers either.

And, though her cousin's presence has since long departed, traces of her still linger unmissably. They linger in the stubborn remnants of decals and stickers, clinging obstinately to surfaces. Lingering in the fondly crafted picture frames, brimming with snapshots of friends and family of the girl with brown hair. Things that it seemed Shelley didn't deem worthy enough to take along with her. Yet, for Elsie, these things would mean no less than the world to her.

It was so obviously clear that Elsie's aunt had made a poor, concerted effort to preserve how the room had always been, perhaps nurturing a futile hope for her daughter's eventual return. But for the time being, it's Sharon's niece—someone she hadn't even crossed paths with until now—who occupies the space meant for her daughter, leaving Elsie grappling with a sense of unwilling guilt.
There'd be no rational justification for such emotions, she'd suppose, as Sharon was plenty amiable. Friendly and hospitable, greeting Elsie with open arms when she'd first arrived, casting countless warm smiles her way with her kind, weary eyes.

A few days had already passed by, and Elsie, admittedly, hadn't done much. Now and then, she'd venture downstairs to assist her aunt with tidying up or preparing the table for dinner. Or, she might even undertake the task of corralling the myriad of beer bottles that dot the otherwise immaculate living room, a sentiment that she was all too familiar with.

Her cousin, Stanley, had taken off up North for an early birthday trip with a few of his friends, Sharon said. As for her uncle, Randy—Well, he was more of a shadow than a presence, absent during both day and night, especially if sobriety was a requirement.
In those moments, Elsie kept herself upstairs, avoiding prying into the family affairs as much as she could. Yet, the walls were thin enough for the echoes of Randy's drunken ramblings to still reach her ears, mingling with Sharon's urgent pleas for him to hush and get some rest. Even in her desperation, Sharon's words seemed carefully chosen, laden with significance that Elsie couldn't help but dwell on, albeit regretfully.

Thus, for the most part, it was Sharon and Elsie navigating the empty house together, punctuating their time with small talk. During these exchanges, glimpses of exhaustion would fleetingly surface beneath Sharon's warm, brown eyes.

Every so often, the woman would coax Elsie outdoors, a silent gesture of guilt for keeping her niece within the confines of her daughter's former room. Unspoken, though, was, that Elsie didn't mind at all, perhaps preferring the solitude over the awkward strolls across perfectly manicured streets, directionless and unpleasantly nipped by the encroaching winters wrath.
It wasn't that she regretted her time here; circumstances left her little choice. Yet, amidst a keen call downstairs, greeted by Sharon's kindly presence, her gentle demeanour did little to dispel Elsie's nagging uncertainty.

"Have you had a chance to stop by Stark's Pond yet?" The woman's words drift through the air, her voice a gentle murmur as she works diligently to scrub away a stubborn stain on a dish. 

Elsie only shakes her head meagrely in response.

"...Not yet, no," She adds, in a simple and small declaration, her fingers moving to deftly pull open a drawer, revealing a cache of polished silverware nestled inside.
Sharon starts to say something, but pauses, leaving the silence of the empty house even louder than before. Though, before the silence can stretch, the front door swings open, with a resounding creak, a rush of biting air accompanying its passage.

Sharon's penny-brown eyes light up, and she practically abandons the now-clean plate in the running sink, hurrying over to greet the newcomer.

Stanley, Elsie assumes. Messy black hair, indigo eyes. Just like his father.
And, as Elsie observes his features closer, it becomes abundantly clearer; with a particularly strong resemblance to Randy. But the kindness in Sharon's eyes is still there, and the warmth in her smile remains as she engulfs her son in a loving embrace, peppering his face with affectionate kisses.

"There's my boy!" 

Sharon exclaims, her arms wrapping tightly around her darling son. Stan, surprisingly, lets go of the bags he'd been unceremoniously hauling across the tiles and leans into his mother's hold, fully embracing her maternal affection. If he's noticed Elsie's presence, he hasn't indicated it, simply basking in the comfort of his mother's love.
Eventually, Sharon releases her hold on Stan, giving him a gentle nudge to the side. She's no taller than him; a small and fragile woman with slender limbs that drive to badger her son, pinching his scrawny face, much to his dismay.

"Now, let's get this table set, and you tell me all about your trip, 'mmk?" The mother chimes, her voice lively as she begins at ushering her returning son out of the hallway with a protective arm draped around his middle.
Her fingers brush lovingly through his unruly hair, and Elsie's gaze lingers as she observes Stan's quizzical expression, almost as if he's silently asking, 'Who the fuck's this?'.

Sharon doesn't hesitate, her palm finding a reassuring place on the flinching Elsie's shoulder. "This is your cousin, Stanley," Sharon's tone is soft, but, her son's face only scrunches up further in confusion. "Cousin?" Stan utters, his voice, lingering with utter bewilderment, his expression working stumblingly through each puzzle piece. "I have a cousin?" 

His words hang awkwardly in the air, remaining unanswered for far too long...