Trapped in Snowfall

CW: Psychological distress, imprisonment

The wind outside whispered its chill—a cold room with eerie silence—a small house near a lake with tall standing trees. Nothing and no one for miles, a gravel road nearby, would alert any vehicles in the quiet nights.

She wakes on her compact couch from an accidental sleep. The cold is bitter and biting its way through any warmth she has. She draws in a breath, and the fireplace's fire casts faint light into the room as it's close to dying out. She stands barefoot on the cold wooden floor. Her feet feel the imperfections of the wood as she walks behind the couch.

The door opens without any noise. Her toe hits hard as she enters the tiny room, void of windows. The door on the other side of the room leads outside, as the room holds wood for the fire. The pain feels like a heartbeat, but the cold seems to only increase the pain. She collects a few pieces of wood and closes the door. She walks to the fire and places the wood into it carefully in hopes of not killing the fire needed to stay warm. She holds a paper to the fire and lifts it to the unlit wood, placing it on top. The fire begins to eat a tiny way into the wood, and the paper is nothing but ashes.

She stares at the fire for a moment, stuck in her thoughts that only she could know. The light cast an orange glow on her face and the room, which is now more visible. A coffee table sits in front of the couch with papers on it. A sound comes from the room that she had once claimed as her own. Without hesitation or fear, she walked into the room and pulled the door of the dresser open. She retrieves two pairs of fuzzy socks, as she ignores the sound and what's in the room. The door of the dresser closes with force as she turns around swiftly, and she holds her finger to her mouth to warn against the noise.

No one would hear, but she didn't want or need the headache of it. In the dark room, a barely distinguishable outline of a person in a chair. She walks close, now their eyes grow wide with confusion and fear, a tear slides down their face. "Shhh, no noise," she whispers to her prisoner. She leaves the room with haste, not looking back on her way to the couch. Once she sits, she pulls the socks onto her feet, two socks per foot.

She reaches onto the table in front of her and grabs more paper. When she gets up, the cold takes longer to reach her feet. As she stomps to the fireplace, throwing in the papers angrily. Despite the now bigger fire and the anger, she remains cold. She can feel the cold biting through the socks now as she trots to the kitchen. On the countertop is a bar of chocolate. She opens it and breaks it into small pieces. She pulls a pot from the cabinet below and places it on the stove. She slowly heats the milk from the fridge and adds the chocolate. After a few minutes, it's done, and she pulls out two mugs and one straw, which she carefully pours into them.

She takes a sip, and it heats her body. The warmth lingers, fighting against the impending chill. A calm settles over her, and she breathes out heavily. She takes the other mug with the straw in it into her hand. Then begins to walk to the room with her prisoner inside. Their eyes go wide again, but they are hardly visible, almost like they aren't real. She sets her mug on the top of the dresser so it's not in her way. She softly speaks, "When I uncover your mouth, you need to be quiet, okay?" No answer is given, except for a fearful pull away. She continues and pulls off the tape, then the cloth carefully from their face. She holds the mug with the straw up to their mouth and points the straw toward their mouth.

The prisoner's breaths are heavy, then they scream, almost like a cry begging for help. "No..." She looks warningly at her captive and uses a very forceful sigh of discontent. She walks to the dresser and sets the mug down, picking up her own and taking a slow sip. She closes her eyes like she is trying to enjoy or steal its calmness for a moment longer. Then she sets her mug down, trying not to be forceful in doing so. She looks at her captive, who is breathing so heavily that the silence now feels long gone.

"Ugh, you're so dramatic. It's fine, just stop. It's not doing any good anyway. You're always crying; it makes my head hurt. If you don't drink this time, then you can continue your crying session in silence." Each word was enunciated, cutting, and driving somehow, without being a yell. She picks up the mug with a straw in it and angrily strolls forward. The captive draws in a breath and releases a panicked noise. She once again holds the cup to their mouth, placing the straw near their mouth. With a short cry, they scream again, "HELP," pleading into the surrounding silence. "Fine, have it your way," she forces the cloth and tape over their mouth as they fight. She strides to the dresser and picks up her mug, then exits the room swiftly. She slammed the mugs on the coffee table, and some liquid shot up and landed on the floor and table. However, it went completely unnoticed by her.

The prisoner starts to cry out again, now against the tape and cloth covering their mouth. Any possible noise the captive could manage was being used. Her head was starting to hurt and pulse with each disruptive noise. "No one will hear you! You're all alone here!" Each word broke over the disruption, lessening it to a cry filled with sobs and pleas. She sits down on the compact couch, holding her head in her hands, eyes flutter shut, then open as she pulls her hands back, then off of her head with a deep sigh. She shakes her head in disapproval and reaches for her mug. The warmth seeps into her hands as she moves the mug graciously towards herself. She takes a sip and closes her eyes, letting the warmth soak in.

Eyes still closed, the sobs and cries become quieter. The silence is becoming a deafening stillness. It feels like things are fading around her, and her mind has an odd fog that wasn't there before. Her head was against the couch as she pushed herself upright. She runs as her eyes open out into the cold night. Her feet are surrounded by a strange coldness, and her body shivers uncontrollably. Confusion as she looks everywhere helplessly.

She reaches a hand to her face, and it feels wet. Wet from tears as if she has been crying. Her eyes feel hot, the same kind of hot as when you cry. Alone, the word repeats inside her head. She looks down now, realizing the utterly bitter coldness to be snowfall on her bare feet. She tilts her head towards the sky and breathes long and deeply. The peaceful cold that yet is unforgiving and harsh. It's two sides clear to her. Her head becomes less foggy as she remembers waking up. She opens her eyes and watches the snow falling softly to mold into a perfectly cold, fluffy blanket without any escape. The snowflakes look huge and sparkly, giving way for only a moment of distraction from their darker side.

Alone. She was alone.