Jason's Melody *Jason McCann*

Chapter One

One: "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

Two ice sculptures. That's what we were.

We were lost, alone, cold.

White fluff was falling from the black sky which seemed to spread like a protective blanket over every place we went.  

Darkness.  

Black.  

It was everywhere. My teeth wouldn't even chatter anymore. I was too cold to shiver or tremble, or move at all. My frozen head rested on his frozen shoulder. We're a frozen pair.

His ice fingers pressed against my side, wrapping his arm around me, pulling us in closer.

We've been like this for a while. I have no recollection of time. I don't know if it's been weeks or just a few very long days. I couldn't be sure about anything anymore. Except that we've been walking.  

That, I knew.  

We've walked a lot. Too much for someone as unfit as I am.

Even the days seem dark now. I can't feel anything. My hunger is so intense that I don't have the capacity to feel it.  

My lips were chapped. I could feel the dead skin still trying to cling on, hoping for life even though there is none left to give anymore.  

It's dead.  

And once you're dead you don't have hope.

I blinked --it hurt.

The ice that had formed around my stiff eyelashes stuck together and were then forced to tear apart. The ice, along with a few eyelashes, broke off my skin. My whole body felt like it was bleeding. Like a layer of ice has grown from inside me and coated all over every inch of my skin. Either that or I was wearing clothes made out of ice. Both equally as possible as the other.

I looked over to the bench across the road. It was wooden, like the one we were sitting on now, except you couldn't see the wood because it was completely covered in snow. The street light flashed on and off every few seconds, flickering as if some kid was finding it entertaining to switch it's button on and off, on and off, until eventually it died too. I wondered how long it would take to completely turn off.

The small village we were in looked abandoned. However, I knew that wasn't the case because there were people here in the day. But now they were all warm in bed, or snuggled up by the fire watching mindless night-time tv, drinking cappuccino's and fighting with their loved ones for no real reason.

I've had enough.

I made a move to try stand up. It took a lot of effort. I felt my face peel off the other ice-statue's shoulder; the ice-statue otherwise known as Jason, that is. There was definite frost bite forming on my cheek. You could hear the ice seperate from the bench as I stood.

My legs wobbled and I fell to my knees, landing in the snow. I was sure that was it, that I was going to break apart like glass, but I guess my body's not that fragile --yet.

I forced myself up off my knees and turned my head to look at Jason, still frozen on the bench, his glass eyes looking at me with a dead expression. My neck cracked as I turned it around, but I didn't hesitate. I was used to this by now.

"Come on," I croaked out, not recognizing the voice that was leaving my mouth. It was tangled with ice and twisted with cold. It wasn't mine. But then again, I'm not me anymore, am I?