Cold. Cold.
Cold.
The only thought that entered my mind within the past few days.
Frost bite had already occupied the majority of my limbs—I could no longer contain my warmth.
Days felt like months in this tomb, in this cold. I had tried to mentally control my senses. Constantly, I whispered to myself, "Cold is just a feeling," an old trick I used as a child.
Still, the frost chewed at me like a ravenous pit bull. I'd tried so many different positions to conserve as much heat as possible, but still—still—no prevail. I could no longer hold myself due to the numbness of my arms.
I shook continuously with no control. My lips were dry beyond saving, and cracked with every facial expression I made. The tears that fell days ago froze upon my cheeks. Truthfully, considering my condition, I was surprised I'd survived this long.
My eyes remained closed—they froze a few hours ago from the fatal mistake of sleeping.
Quite sad.
The silence was deafening. It's true that silence can drive a person mad. I laughed periodically every time I realized that I would never escape—he'd lied. He wasn't coming back like he said.
A sudden sound scattered my thoughts. The boulder blocking my exit shifted.
He did mean it. He was back. After all of the waiting, he had returned to put me out of my misery.
His footsteps crunched through the snow, and he neared closer with every step.
"How are you still alive?" I heard him mutter to himself. I could hear him toss something close to me. A bag perhaps. Then a zipper was heard.
Suddenly, with a quickness, I felt a sharp blade plunge into my chest.
Ignoring the stiffness of my lips, I opened my mouth wide with an intent to scream as the pain erupted through my every nerve. Nothing emerged from my throat except for a hoarse wailing that echoed throughout the cave. I felt my lips crack and tear. My eyes shot open and I felt my eyelashes rip from my eyelids. I looked down at the wound as tears flooded my eyes. My arms and legs were black and frozen, and the man who stood in front of me stared at me with disgust.
"Why?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"You said you loved the snow," he started. "I thought I'd let your final days be in the place you love the most."
