𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙁𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡

Prolouge

Blood and Ice.

It's a strange feeling. The hot blood pulsing through her veins, and the cold chill of fear slivering down to her toes. Yet, it's just as familiar as it always has been. The young girl, a terrified teen, backs away as the man twice her size stalks her into a walled corner. He pulls back a raised fist, ready to send it barreling into her tear soaked face. It reaches it target, hooking against the soft skin of a cheek with hard impact.

A body falls to the ground. Nails claw at the floor. Fleeting footsteps move towards the kitchen.

More of her tears stream down as her pain ridden body urges her to retreat in whatever way she can. Wherever she can. She knows it's useless.

It always is.

Heavier steps follow after her, and seconds later a strong hand jerks on her arm with another agonizing grip. The stench of alcohol burns her nose. Loud profanities thunder into her now ringing eardrums. The grip tightens.

Her heart knows it's time to resign, just as always. His words drown out and she remains still, trapping herself in her own mind to safely ignore whatever pain that may come next. The man shakes her rigorously and barks commands in her ear. When she responds with little more than a dead gaze, with all the strength that only a well trained athlete could ever have, he hurls her small form against the kitchen wall.

Kneeling down over her, with more of the overpowering smell of liquor wafting out, he growls chastising words to her. They fall on deaf ears.

She's too busy crying, a sad pile on the cold tile floor, blaming herself for the utter shambles her life has become. When the man walks away, hobbling on drunken legs, she lies to herself for the hundredth time.

"I'm okay", she says.