Prologue- Indie
I was told that snow was cold but they were wrong–it burned. Maybe the first touch was cold, the initial tap that had you curling your fingers back fast as you rubbed your palms back and forth seeking friction. The longer you touched the more it burned, until you were buried in it, gasping for breath, and begging for everything to stop.
He said I was weird. I should have been crying, screaming for help, something, but when he found me I let the burn wash through me as I watched the snowfall; burying me deeper.
perhaps I was weird. I was dying, but I stared even as my lips turned blue and the snow covered my body. It was hard to be scared of something so beautiful, no matter how complicated.
Maybe that’s why I fell in love with him.
