Page 21 of Snowman

I clicked my tongue again, "Nah."

She hummed and pressed her lips together, weighing my response. Then, without a word more, she turned and left. The door shut with a firm click, bringing a faint breeze in her wake.

I sat down, again, and stared at the bowl of soup in front of me. Steam spiraled upwards in diaphanous curls, then disappeared into the air, just like my focus.

An hour nearly passed, with me still behind the shadows of her window, watching and waiting. Waiting for something, I don't even know; just a simple silhouette of her. Yet, the window remained as empty as when I'd begun. It was the silent stillness that gnawed at my soul.

I had to see her, even from afar, even if it meant risking everything.

The snow crunched beneath my boots as I moved closer, the cold biting through the fabric of my clothes. My coat weighed on me, heavy and restricting, so I pulled it off and buried it in the snow. The sharp chill bit at my skin, but I didn't care.

I pulled my hood over my head, the dark sweatshirt clung to me like armor as I slid a white mask from my pocket. I glanced over my shoulder, scanning for any signs of movement, any eyes upon me. The woods were silent.

Satisfied, I reached back and laid the mask on my face, its cold surface pressing against my skin.

I moved slowly, crouching low as I followed the faint lines of the narrow path leading to the rear of the house.

Leafy branches and thorns acted like a barrier across the yard. Concealed behind them was the rusty creaking of old ladders. At the very top sat this large circular attic window that was always left slightly open, inviting me in. You could easily fit through a gap that narrow yet nobody ever managed to glue it shut. A spare key would be something I had with me, though with a mask looking like this, front doors weren't the best choice.

It was a silent climb, my hands clasping the icy wood of the ladders until I reached the attic window. I eased it open, careful not to make a sound. The glass creaked slightly as I slid through, my feet landing softly on the wooden floor. I knelt, pushing the window back into its usual crooked position.

My heart jumped as I turned.

She was there.

She was kneeling at the far corner in her red coat, her body shaking. Her hair spilled down her shoulders, glowing with that weak light filtering through the cracked window. And she did nothing. Didn't speak. Just sat on and on, her eyes fixed somewhere as if she neither saw me nor cared.

I raised my hand weakly in a small awkward wave. Twice. Really idiotic.

What the hell am I doing?I silently scolded myself.

She glanced at me, then crossed her arms before lying down on the floor, moving slowly, ignoring me. Like I wasn't even there.

"Were you waiting for me?" I asked, my voice breaking the heavy silence. I stepped toward her cautiously, unsure of myself.

"Don't flatter yourself," she snapped out, her voice whetted to a sharp edge though her head remained unlifted. "If you came to kill me, do it."

I froze, the words striking harder than they should have. I crouched beside her, studying her face, her body, for some evidence of fear or even care. But there was nothing. Just emptiness.

I reached out tentatively and brushed a strand of her hair away from her face. Her skin was pale; her lips were chapped. She didn't pull away immediately, but as I whispered, "Why would I do that,birdie?" she threw her head sharply to the side, moving out from my touch.

Her body shuddered, wrapping her arms tighter around herself, and her whole frame shook like a fragile leaf in the middle of a storm. I tilted my head to the side, trying to read her, trying to understand. Something was wrong. I reached for her hand, gently pulling her up, but the moment she moved, she winced, clutching her ribs. My stomach sank.

"What happened?" I asked, my voice low, steady.

"Please," she whispered, her tears spilling down her cheeks. Her voice cracked, as if made of glass, barely holding together. "Just go."

I bit my tongue, knowing I shouldn't be here. This was wrong, everything about it. Yet something in her made it impossible to leave. I needed her. I needed her close to feel alive again, even if only for a moment. I sank to the floor against the wall, pulling her head gently onto my lap.

"Better?" I asked, my fingers threading softly through her hair.

"No," she whispered, her voice cracking with the burden of her pain. A jolting laugh tore from her lips as she choked over the words. "Do you do this to all of them?"

Her gaze fluttered up to me shining with unshed tears. "Before you chop their heads off and turn them into snowmen?"

I chuckled low and sharp. "Not to all of them."

She reacted in an instant, disgusted and furious. She pushed my hand away and turned her face from me, pressing her cheek to the cold floor.

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