Survival

Chapter 50

The pain was too much.

Too. Much.

Her body couldn't handle it anymore.

Elsa loosens a scream as the bone in her arm snaps.

Then she is dropped on the floor as she places her forehead against the floorboards, sobbing through her clenched teeth as a pair of boots circle around her.

Elsa shuts her eyes and braces herself for the storm of fists and kicks.

But then the sound of the pair of boots goes away. 

She opens her eyes and and dares to look around her.

She is no longer in her old room. Well, actually, this is her room except there are two beds instead one, with stuffed animals taking residence on both beds. Those were her stuffed animals when she was little.

Elsa looks to her right where she lays and sees paper littering the floor along with crayons.

She reaches over to pick one up, and to her surprise, her arm doesn't hurt. It's not even broken anymore.

What is happening?

Elsa wipes her tears and picks a crumpled paper off the floor. It is a drawing of...

"Olaf?" She whispers in disbelief. Her and Anna used to draw him all the time as children.

Fisting the paper in her fist, Elsa quickly scrambles to her feet and kneels next to the drawings.

There is a drawing of Olaf. Of a house. A garden. And...her family––Anna, Elsa, her mom.

And then she heard voices. 

They echoed throughout the dim bedroom. And they were laughing.

But Elsa wasn't afraid. She recognized those voices with all her heart.

Elsa drops the drawing and sprints to her feet and runs as if hell hounds were chasing after her.

She throws open the bedroom door and doesn't even have time to notice the change of the hallway; picture frames hanging, plants embedded into the walls, and the entire hall lit up with warm lighting. 

Elsa runs so fast it felt like the winds itself couldn't compete with her. Towards those familiar voices.

"Mama! Anna!" She cries in joy as the voices sound closer.

She races down the stairs and into the kitchen. She stops dead in her tracks as she beholds the two figures in the room.

There she is. 

Her mom. 

She looks as beautiful as the last time Elsa saw her. Not a single brown out of place, her confident posture, her gentle hands.

Her mom turns away from the sink and walks over to five-year old Anna.

Elsa doesn't move for a while. It feels like her heart is being constricted as she beholds her lost family.

Without an ounce of hesitation, without questioning it, Elsa launches herself at her mother.

"Mom!" she cries.

Her mom turns around and her eyes––Elsa's eyes––roam over her just as Elsa tackles her in a giant, soul-crushing hug.

Elsa clutches onto her mother as if she were no better than a toddler. Her hands snake over her mom's back, gripping her dress so tight she feels like it is going to rip. She rests her head on her mom's shoulder and breathes in her scent.