The snow swirls across the night sky, as if it were light in a Van Gogh painting. It speeds through the air, as if it were in a hurry, quick and fast, quite like my mind. A far off car sings a quiet lullaby to the swaying trees which look over the vast terrace on which I stand, they feel protective over me, but cannot save me from the devil that they call the cold. It gnaws away at my skin, turning my hands white as the snow that cascades, and dries them out, until they are thoroughly numb.
Why am I here? It is an escape route. A get out. From everything that has happened in the past few months. I am Libby and this is my story
YOU ARE READING
The Tears That Bind Us
Ficção AdolescenteA quiet girl. A loud boy. A straight couple and a gay couple. What could go wrong?
