FROSTBITE | S. Rogers/B. Barnes (FINISHED)

Frozen Heart

The icy cold water hit Janie's limbs like a truck.

Momentarily, she thought her whole body was on fire, but then that fiery sensation was replaced with cold air hitting her lungs and she instantly began to shiver.

Her clothes, soaked to the bone, felt like they weighed 200 pounds as they clung to her raised skin. Her teeth chattered unbeknownst to her and she had to clench her jaw to stop herself from accidentally biting down on her own tongue. She tried to move her arms to wipe sticky strands of hair from her face, but found her hands and feet had been restrained, hardly leaving any wiggle room. Icy water pooled in her sneakers and droplets quickly began to soak the floor beneath her wobbly feet.

She struggled to stay awake in the dimly lit room, but the constant splashes of nearly frozen water came like electric shocks every time, preventing her from closing her eyes for more than five minutes at a time.

The steel door finally opened for the first time in what seemed like forever and a shadow stepped into the room, shutting the door quickly to prevent any proper light from flooding in.

Janie turned her head towards the figure, "Who the hell are you? Where am I?"

The man, tall and lean, was undoubtedly the man who had abducted her at the airport. For hours now, she'd been trying to figure out what was wrong with his face. He looked like a man, but there was something off about his features. His eyebrows didn't move when he spoke on the private plane, the lack of color on his oddly plump cheeks was concerning and the skin on his chin looked like it was peeling off, not to mention the color didn't quite match his neck.

As he stepped into the unflattering LED light that swung gently back and forth above their heads, Janie had to do a double take. 

"Don't be stupid," he said, "you know who I am."

The man who she'd held the subway door open for turned back to his book, a weathered, small book with a red leather-bound hardcover and a black star on the front, and began reading it just like he'd done on the private plane he'd forced her on that led the two of them to the outskirts of Berlin. She wondered what was written inside because he'd kept it on him since first pulling it out as they were taking off hours ago.

He silently muttered some of the words, allowing his index finger to scan the tattered pages with utmost care.

When he looked up, she could've sworn she saw something in his eyes she recognized. A look she remembered that belonged somewhere in the back of her mind, but that disappeared when he tucked the book in his breast pocket and began to claw at the loose patch of skin on his pointy chin. Long strips of it came off like the skin on fried chicken, falling at his feet when he dropped the pieces from his fingers. Janie began to gag while she watched the man in front of her rip off his own skin.

"Jesus Christ!" She yelled, shutting her eyes so she wouldn't have to see.

"Don't you recognize your own father, Janie?" The man yelled back.