It's late December with fingertips turning purple and red cheeks, cold air burning lungs, the only source of warmth coming from inside of crowded coffee shops and big coats. the streets are loud, with children forming a choir by the christmas tree, teenagers ice-skating and the buzz of excitement in the air, but they feel so lonely. I found it all ridiculous, all these people rejoicing for the birth of some religious figure. Or that was why they used to come together in the past, now it was just spoilt children crying over wrong presents and dirty remarks after family gatherings.
The streets were also filled with snow. As much as I loved the cold weather I hated all the things that came along with it. Sure, I could wear my thick hoodies but I had to risk my entire life every time I decided to go out walking on the thin ice under the layers of snow. The walk home suddenly feels years away after a few snowflakes fall to the ground. I don't know what's worse. The ice cold water slowly soaking into my shoes and making my feet go numb making the scenario of crawling to my apartment after they decide to fully give up, or me breaking my ankle after I take one wrong step on the unforgiving ice.
To trip or not to trip? That is the question. I weigh out the odds in my head. If I walk faster there's a higher chance of me falling and my body giving up completely giving up resulting in me probably dying. If I go at a normal pace my bloodstream to my feet is going to cut out completely, resulting in my already numb feet submitting into complete numbness and deciding not to work anymore, also resulting in me dying.
Ever the optimist I think to myself as my apartment comes into view. I start to pick up my pace, I'm going to die either way. I internally curse myself for not wearing the thick woolly socks my mother packed and maybe then I wouldn't feel as though I was in the middle of a discount Bear Grylls show instead of just going to town on a cold day.
My lovely hot cup of coffee has turned into uncomfortably warm liquid, even though I'm still thankful for it being a source of warmth right now. The streets are silent, the children are gone and no one could be as stupid as me to be outside in what's beginning to become a snow blizzard. I'm too focused on getting my numb feet to work as I walk across the road that I don't realize the rock that appeared out of nowhere as I trip on it. There's a sharp pain in my head as the last thing I see is the white clouds of my breath before the world turns to black.
-
Silence. I was on something. A bed? A couch? My head, which is pounding with a pain stronger than any hangover I've experienced before, is clouded with all the questions I can't answer. The room smells faintly of lavender which calms my nerves but the question of where I am only heightens them. I slowly open my eyes, ignoring the ringing in my head that protests my decision. The only thing I can see is pure white. Was this heaven? Was this hell? If this truly is hell, the quote 'Hell is an endless white expense with a single white chair and a white table with a single succulent on it ' was right. I'm blending into the white couch with my soft cream colours, but standing out due to the lack of colour. The only other thing in the room that wasn't pure white was the source of the smell, a single lavender plant. It truly was a perfectionists dream.
Unaware of the bandage on my ankle I try to get up to investigate only to fall again, drifting back into unconsciousness.
-
As the saying goes, you should never go out alone after night. Call a friend, a parent, somebody, anybody, but just don't go alone. This had been a problem for Thea. She didn't have any friends -even if she liked it that way- She had been invited by a person who she didn't know and she, even surprising herself, decided to go. As she quickly learnt, college parties were nothing more than legal people buying alcohol for the ones that weren't.
She left early for the partygoers, late for the rest of the neighborhood. The streets were abandoned making her feel the only person for miles, the air cold and crisp burning her lungs like smoke.
They told her to never be by herself after dark, she thought the rule wouldn't apply to her, she thought she could just blend in. But when they cornered her no one was there to hear her scream in the lonely night.
And as she sat there on the damp concrete floor, the cold air burned her lungs, that memory permanently made itself into her mind, taking her back to december everytime she felt the winter air.
