Frozen

Three: The Unknown

Three: The Unknown

            The small patched of grass were hazed over in dew, tiny droplets of clear liquid sparkled like diamonds as the sun reflected off of it.  Glistening snow covered the rest of the area surrounding it, as if the frozen water itself consumed the color, never letting it return again.

            Even though the house was warm, Elizabeth could still feel the cold radiating from the glass panel that stood in front of her. How she longed to be in the snow, to feel the snow melt on her skin and have the suns warmth contradict with icy fluid that would sit next to her. She smiled at the thought.

            Meanwhile Owen stood behind her, leaning casually against the opal walls that stood around them protectively. A short and stubby shadow stood beside him, a perfect replica of himself. As he continued to gaze trillions of thoughts ran through his mind, racing each other to fill the one space he held as he inspected each one individually.

            He didn’t know what to think of it, to think of her. He knew she wasn’t like him in anyway shape or form, she was just different. She didn’t belong here, in this world, or at the very least she didn’t belong with him, but still it nagged him.

The funny thing was that wasn’t the main thing of what bothered him.

The mere thought of not knowing what she was tortured him; it pulled on his limbs, stretching and twisting them into anomalous configurations.  Pain, so excruciating that he couldn’t even cry out for help because he knew it couldn’t be immobilized, that the monster would continue to toy with him. So he stood there in the silence, not saying a word.

“How old are you?” The whisper wrapped around him, floating into his mind as her head turn slightly towards him. His brain tried processing the words, how they were put together, everything about them, but yet the answer still remained unreached. “How old are you?” She repeated.

“Eighteen,” The answer rolled off Owen’s tongue so easily it shocked him, he thought that he’d have to force the words out of his mouth. “What about you,” He asked her the same question when the first met, it was hard to believe that it was less than twenty-four hours ago.

“Seventeen…” Her words came out on a slur, as if they were blurry like a foggy windshield. She stared out the window, attention clearly somewhere else.

Elizabeth furrowed her eyebrows together, a confused expression engraved into her features. He didn’t know what she saw, or how she could possibly see it through the snow that crashed down to the ground, shattering.

“Owen,” She started as she reached her arm back, beckoning him to proceed forward. “Look,”

She could hear his footsteps as he walked towards her as she continued to gaze out the window. A black figure stood in the shadows, not the shape of a man, but still not of an animal, it was too big to be one.

Elizabeth felt his warm breath as he breathed next to her. The searing carbon dioxide smacked against her face, the sudden heat sent a shock through her system as she inched away from him slowly.

The question lingered over them, not a word being said, or a phrase spoken. They knew what each other was thinking because they were thinking the exact same thing.

Who was that man? Or more precise, what was what man?

She looked up only to see Owen’s face twisted into an unfathomable expression; his brows furrowed, eyes locked on the figure, jawline set, but the overall read of his face was a mixture between wonder and fear. Something she had experience with.

The man walked forward towards the house, as he came closer the aspects were suddenly magnified by a microscope in perfect detail.

The man was long and thin, a piece of wood that had grown into something more. A black suit draped over his shoulders and scattered down to his body, stopping at his hips. The jacket was clearly too big; it consumed his tiny body like it was a mere crumb. Elizabeth didn’t know what was worse, his too big jacket or his too tight pants. They hugged his legs like a man did to his wife, snuggling up against them. A hat was placed over his silvery hair, wrinkles standing out against his pale skin. And then it hit her.

She knew that man.

Elizabeth backed away from the window hurriedly, she tripped over a wire that rested behind her feet and fell back into Owen.  

The wind got knocked out of her as she smashed into him, the force made his green eyes go wide with alarm. “What’s wrong?”

“That guy, I know him,” Panic set into her veins, it coursed through her, pounding into her heart and mind. She couldn’t let him see her; she couldn’t let him find her. Elizabeth realized that it was already too late, that he already found her.

Why was she so terrified of him? Why was she so scared of a man she didn’t even know the name of yet what he does?

“Elizabeth, what the hell is wrong!?” Owen screamed at her, terror clearly written on his face for the girl he barely knew, the girl that captivated him by the way she moved, talked, listened, everything about her just held him there, stuck, like a fly weaved into a spiders web.

“I don’t know,” She breathed it out slowly, carefully, like she was afraid that the words would come out too fast and shatter on the wooden floor below her.

Her heart raced as he came closer, each footstep seemed to echo in her mind as he walked. The drum in her chest started to drown out the noise and soon she couldn’t hear anything but her drum. The same drum that rested there for seventeen years of her life, silently, patiently waiting for the right moment to deafen her with its beats.

Even with the instrument playing its music inside of her she could still hear it.

She could still hear the knock.