Page 28 of Snowman

My chest tightened, the panic swirling inside me like a vortex. I was running. My breathing was fast and hard, and my heart hammered so loudly in my ears that I could barely hear the rush of the water. I reached her and fell on my knees, touching her pale, numb face with shaking hands.

"Bree…," I whispered, my voice cracking.

She was so still, her skin cold. I pressed two fingers against her neck and searched for a pulse. It was faint, so faint that I might have sworn that I had imagined it. The jeans were halfway off, the white sweater stained with dirt; the red coat was unzipped, gaping open in a silent scream.

My teeth ground together, my jaw aching with the anger flooding through me. My fists curled, and for a moment, all I could see was red, the kind that filled rivers.

I carefully worked my arms under her fragile body and lifted her into my chest. She didn't stir; her head fell limply against me.

"I've got you," I whispered, though I wasn't sure who I was reassuring, her or myself.

The run back to the cottage felt endless. The world blurred, a rush of branches and snow as my boots pounded the ground.She was weightless in my arms, and that terrified me. Her body didn't fight. It didn't feel like hers anymore.

By the time the cottage came into view, my breath was ragged, my pulse racing. I stumbled onto the porch, fumbling for the key in my pocket, almost dropping it in an attempt to unlock the door.

"Come on, come on," I muttered, growling under my breath as my fingers shook.

Finally, the lock clicked, and I pushed inside, kicking the door shut behind me. I carried her to the bed, setting her down gently. Without hesitation, my hand plunged once more into her neck as I searched for that faint beat of life.

It's still there, barely, but it would do. I slapped the heels of my fists onto her chest, bringing it all to an end. "C'mon, Bree," I gritted out, voice cracking. "Fucking fight."

I pressed my fists into her chest rhythmically, relentlessly, until finally, her body contorted and she gasped in air. The sound was weak and fractured, but there. I exhaled loudly, my hands trembling, as I sat back a moment staring at her. She was alive. Barely, but alive.

I didn't waste another second, yanking my black sweater from the hook by the door and turning back to her. Her bright red coat was soaked and heavy; it clung to her. I tugged it off her carefully, the zipper scraping, letting my hands move through it. Then her sweater, her jeans—cold, wet, stuck against her skin like some dark, damp shroud. I left her in underwear now, her body shuddering hard, her lips purpled. She lay before me so white, so small.

I didn't like the fragile image of her that lay in front of me.

I slipped my sweater over her head; it was on her, yet still clung loosely around her. I gathered her gently together, pulling her up towards the top of the bed, and wrapped her up in the thick blanket up to her neck, trying to get warmth in herbody. Her breathing was shallow but steady now. That was good enough.

"Who did this to you?" I whispered, my voice low, and angry, and I didn't even try concealing it. I lowered myself onto the edge of the bed and locked my eyes right on her face, paler than the snow outside. Her lips were purple, that ugly color, a shade I hated to see on her.

I had seen it before, far too many times.Twenty-six timesto be precise. I knew that color, that cold, that fragility. On her, though, my stomach churned over. My jaw stiffened, and I found myself looking away, commanding my breathing to steady itself.

She’d crawled beneath my skin, slipped inside like a thorn, and had become so deeply embedded that pulling her out would have meant blood and pain. Without warning, without rhyme or reason. It wasn't supposed to happen. Not to me. Maybe it was fate, maybe some cruel joke, or maybe someone somewhere had finally figured out how to punish me for what I'd done.

And yet, here she was. The answer to questions I didn't even know I was asking. How could someone like me, someone who took lives without hesitation, care about hers? Care so much it made me mad? I'd thought I was hollow, numb to everything, to everyone. And yet, here she was, melting the frost I'd been carrying in my chest for years.

I loathed it. And I required it. I stood, walking slowly toward the window. The woods beyond had grown dark again, stretching the shadows between trees in wide veins of blackness. I tugged on the blinds in a single, fluid motion, cutting off the view. Turning around, I turned on the tiny lamp on the nightstand beside my bed. Delicate and airy, it cast across the room a weak veil.

I looked at her one more time, her breathing in short, shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling softly with each intake of air under the blanket. She was safe for now.

I turned and slipped out of the room, shutting the door softly behind me. I leaned against the doorframe, my hands coming up to bury into my face. My breath came heavy.

It was her.

I'd never felt this, not like this. Not knowing what this was at all, all I knew was that she made me feel alive in a way I never wanted to be.

She made me want to tear off the mask I'd spent years perfecting of the killer, of the monster, of the Snowman. For her, I wanted to be more, someone normal. A man who could take care of her. A man she deserved.

I had never felt so defeated in my entire life. Hours passed, and yet she didn't wake. Her breaths were shallow, her body unmoving, a pale ghost of herself. I couldn't bear it any longer. I carried her to the hospital.

Inside, the fluorescent lights above me buzzed cold as I spoke with the nurse at the front desk. I lied. I told them I found her on the road, lying there alone. A namelessJane Doe.

I said I didn't know her, just that I'd seen her around town before. My voice was steady, and practiced, the mask slipping easily back into place, but underneath it, my insides were twisting.

I stood in the waiting room, hands shoved deep into my pockets to keep them from shaking. People came and went, families, children, nurses, all ghosting around me. But I stood my ground, my eyes fixed on the door behind which they'd disappeared with her, waiting for someone to say something,anything.

It wasn't until the doctor finally came out, his expression was grave.

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