The house no one Knows about

FIFTEEN

He wasn't terrified and if he was he didn't show it. He kissed me on my forehead and said goodnight and I smiled. I smiled because seeing his face every day would assure me or at least make me feel safe. In the morning when I wake up, I take a shower and eat a croissant from the fridge in the attic. I remember that I had a dream about me dying. It didn't bother me in any way. I was looking forward to it. I spent a long time in the attic before I finally come downstairs.

T.A.A.B.W.I.A.W.A.D.A.F.458.I is nowhere to be found. He probably just went for a walk but that doesn't stop me from panicking a little. I run my fingers across the velvet sofa, thinking about how smooth his skin is. Underneath the blanket, there is a note that has been crumpled up. I pick it up. There is a carton of orange juice on the counter and upon instinct I open it and begin to pour it into a cup. Before I drink it, I spread out the crumpled letter and start to read.

This is really hard to write.

After last night I panicked and I'm leav-

The moment I read the last word, I started to sip the orange juice and realized that it is cold and was brought out from the fridge two seconds ago. Two things come to me. T.A.A.B.W.I.A.W.A.D.A.F.458.I is gone and my dream is going to come true today. I start coughing heavily and my skin freezes up faster than water. I trip and fall backwards, the orange juice spills all over me as I land heavily on my back. This isn't meant to be a serious cold shiver but my skin was colder than usual this morning. My back hurts like hell but I have to crawl out of the house and into the sun.

Dying is painful, very painful. The experience of death scares me but the idea is fascinating. For a very long while I've been looking for a way to kill myself. I'm tired of living life like a balloon; so tender that the slightest thing can destroy me. I was grateful that after twenty-two minutes of lying on the grass underneath the sun, I'm still shivering.

I start to remember those days, twenty-two days in the snowy mountains in Washington; with nowhere to hide and escape the cold. I would sit in a cave, shivering, starving; dying. My skin dried up. Every day was a repetitive movement for my lips; cracking, bleeding and cracking again. I had snow in my hair for twenty-two days, I saw snowflakes everyday for twenty-two days; I lived in snow for twenty-two days.

If I needed to pee, I would pee in the snow, if I was thirsty, I would shove a handful of snow into my mouth. I waited for days for someone to realise that a plane crashed somewhere in Mount Rainier and a six-year old; who should have died is dying in a different place. But no-one came, so life went on, except it got worse. I started sneezing and coughing and finding it harder to breathe, the temperature dropped. It wasn't hard to accept the fact that I was going to die.

I remember the day that my life changed. I was walking (shiver-walking) on what appeared to be thin ice and I fell through the ice. The cold water slamming against my hard skin was more painful than shocking. I was knocked out when my head hit the ice and I spent the next few hours floating in a cold lake.

I was dead to the world. I couldn't think, so I know that nothing came to me in my near death experience. When I started coming to, the first thing I remember thinking of was hypothermia. Why was I alive? Didn't Jack in the Titanic, die the same way? Eventually I opened my eyes and began gasping for breath more than I had ever done. When I crawled out of the lake I remembered the first time I watched the Titanic. My mother told me to close my eyes at the bad bits. I was four and normal. My clothes were wet and my skin was cold. I started to run because the cold had become a monster to me. On a bus to North Carolina, I was exposed for sneaking unto the bus; a criminal at age six. I was thrown off but on the next bus, I was pitied by an old lady. I don't remember her name. It took five days to get to North Carolina where my darling Izzy had been preserved for me. He was the first person that looked at me with something less than a hundred per cent pity. When he looked at me it was with twenty-five per cent pity, and seventy-five per cent potential. He was six years older than me but I never cared.

My head rolls over to the side and I watch T.A.A.B.W.I.A.W.A.D.A.F.458.I as he runs towards me.

I am still freezing.

* * *

She was lying on the grass underneath the cool autumn sun. It could have been any ordinary day in November but it isn't. Bambi looks like she has been shot. As I approach her I notice that her mouth is slightly open and her eyes are shut unlike the blue-skinned, red-eyes girl in her painting.

'Bambi?'

She doesn't answer. I kneel down and touch her skin.

'Bambi, you're freezing'

Through her chattering teeth, she whispers something about hot water. I move fast because I know what this is. I lost an uncle to this monster before. I run back into the house and run a towel under really hot water then I dash across the bare farm back to where she is lying, and place the hot towel on her fore head and rub it down her arms and neck. Her head is turned away from me and instead of saying thank you, she raises up her thumb.

'Bambi?'

She sits up, moves closer to me and places her head on my shoulder.

'I thought you had left'

I shake my head 'That's not why you got cold'

'You left orange juice from the fridge on the counter'

I swear under my breath and she kisses my neck.

'I'm sorry'

'You couldn't have known'

'About the note-'

'You were confused'

'It was obvious?'

'I'm smart'

I throw my arm around her shoulder until her shivering dies down completely.

'Why didn't you tell me that you have Pyroflu?'

'It wasn't important'

'Wasn't important?'

'Not till today'

'You'll be fine; I can take care of you'

'For a limited amount of time'

* * *

We sat there in total silence. Soon it would get colder and it would take a miracle to save me. He carries me to the house, sets me down on the couch and watches while I wrap the blankets around myself.

'The anonymous attractive boy who is always watching and drives a Ferrari 458 Italia; the name fits'

He smiles.

'Why did you pick Bambi as your new name?'

'Look at my eyes, I didn't pick the name. People started calling me Bambi because of my eyes and Mercedes is too long'

'What about Mercy?'

'That is a disgusting version of Mercedes'

I'm happy because for once I'm content with the situation I'm in. T.A.A.B.W.I.A.W.A.D.A.F.458.I is lying right next to me and he didn't leave so for one death doesn't seem much better than this.

'You could be my next hero, you know?'

'How?'

'You can't save me A.A.B.W.I.A.W.A.D.A.F.458.I, but you said that you can take care of me and that's good enough'

'I can save you'

'No you can't'

'Why do you think so?'

'You seem to know enough about Pyroflu, there is no cure'

'I know that'

'So how are you going to save me?'

'I'm going to keep you alive long enough'

'You can't do that, no-one can'

'Yes, I can'

'How?'

'By not leaving'

I bury my face in my hands and smile.

'Don't hide your smile' he gently peeled my fingers off my face and smiles. 'Beautiful'