It's close to autumn as far as I can tell. The leaves are turning this beautiful orange color, some closer to red however, I'm sitting in this café. For now I'm at peace no weird indents with snow randomly falling from the sky or my hair just magically freezing. I can't explain it, or even come up with a logical answer but every single place I go the cold follows me. Maybe I could blame my parents after all they did leave me out in cold. In the middle of a train station in England. Far as I can tell Britain is my home land, if not the accent I picked up is pretty cool. I turn my attention away from the window and take a sip of my coffee. It's gross. Then again I've never enjoyed coffee, or any liquid that's warm. I found that out while on the open seas, the wind blowing though my hair and a crazy ass adoptive father named George. When I was ten, or around that age the years run in together, I found myself on a boat to America with the smell of dead fish clogging up my nose. I got scared when the men would move around. Afraid they would see me and throw me over board. I don't remember anything much else from the possible months I spent on the boat other than it crashing.
I woke up surrounded by ice. I wasn't cold or scared. The Ice made me feel safe. I'm rambling anyway. I don't remember how I got to America. I don't remember my months with George. I don't remember why I had to leave. I don't remember.
Sighing I throw away my gross coffee and walk around the town for a while. I'm great at spotting buildings that people no longer use. After George threw me out I was on the streets again. I wondered. And wondered. Now I'm here. In the middle of fucking nowhere like always.
I remember this small town in America kinda like this one expect for the big fancy ass boarding school. I forgot what the town was called, but the only thing I can remember is the smell of doughnuts. Faces flash as I try and reflect on my time there. Blue and Pink are the only two colors I remember.
A sharp pain shoots through my side. This always happens when I want to remember something. The pain. The bleeding. The sword. The sword is blue and made of ice. Cold to the touch. A danger to anyone but me.
Stop thinking. Stop thinking. Stop thinking. Wait fuck. The sword is in my hand. I look at it, the clear ice shows my reflection. My eyes are blue like the ice of the sword.
A flash blinds me. My mind is clear. Where am I? It doesn't matter. I walk into a building. Empty. And trashy. Just how I like them.
I take off my backpack and look through it. I was about to grab something from it when....Crash.
YOU ARE READING
The Ice Prince Cometh
General FictionSalvatore Boarding School seems like a fancy and private rich school for a bunch of snotty rich kids. Or at least that is what it seems to Troye Dean. Until one night they come running into his abandoned building.
