Page 65 of Snowman

In a blind rage, I swung it with everything I had. The blade connected with a sickening crunch, biting deep below his shoulder. His arm fell in one clean piece, hitting the floor with a loud thud.

His face twisted in pain, his eyes wide with disbelief. Blood gushed from the jagged cut, pooling and spreading like a scarlet flood. His body flicked life draining from him as he fell unconscious.

"Dra åt helvete,"4 I muttered.

Turning, I saw Lena standing in the doorway, her face cold like nothing happened at all.

"Laura’s gone," she said, her words a sigh of frustration. "Erik’s searching for her in the forest."

"FUCK!" I spat.

Lena's lips curved into a faint smile, "You know," she said, "pigs go crazy at the smell of blood."

1. Oh, sing to the pines, let your voice fly. Where the snow falls softly in the winter sky.

2. "The forest speaks its ancient language. A tale of life in the cold,"

3. "The raven screams where the shadows go. Wolves howl deep where the wind blows. But here in stillness, where the heart beats. Peace is found in the tracks of the forest."

4. "Fuck off,"

TWENTY ONE

SNOWMAN

I had to dragmyself the rest of the way down the stairs and when I did, the thick smell of blood hit me before I was even on the ground. It hung in the air there, pungent and sickening, twisting my stomach. All I wanted was to collapse beside her, draw her into my arms, and squeeze her tightly. She'd been through so much, more than anyone ever should have to face. Her body was fragile, trembling whenever it was against mine.

I knew I couldn't fix her. That thought alone broke me to pieces. But damned if I wasn't going to try. No matter what it took. Even as my own mind seemed to be splitting under the strain of it all, she was the one thing that kept me grounded. I somehow knew, if I made it out of this alive, it would be for her.

The floor below was eerily quiet, each creak of the floorboards echoing as I looked around. Panic began to claw at me when I noticed that she was no longer there. My heart raced faster, my breaths coming out as short gasps as I scanned the empty roomaround. Then I saw it, out of the corner of my eye, lying on the floor of the room, where the door was ajar.

I ran to her, adrenaline was pumping me up. When I saw her, I felt relief, but it was short-lived, fleeting. She sat with her body slumped slightly forward, her arm over her knee. From a distance, it appeared she had perhaps been sleeping. But as I got closer, I noticed it.

The little red line streaking her arm, drops of blood, dripping slowly down. On the other hand, she held a jagged piece of broken glass, an edge sharp enough to reflect light. My stomach twisted at the thought.

She can't be.

"Fuck, Bree," I grumbled under my breath, dropping to my knees next to her. In a daze, I ripped a strip from my shirt and pressed it against her arm, attempting to stop the bleeding. She felt cold—too cold. Her pale face lay slack, and her breaths were faint.

"Bree," I whispered, stroking her hair back from her face.

I smacked her cheek lightly, having to wake her. "Come on, Bree. Wake up."

Her lids flickered, and for a split second, I saw her eyes. A knot in my chest loosened with relief. Without thinking, I picked her up, cradled her in my arms, and carried her upstairs, my heart thrumming against her cold body.

The cabin was quiet, and the air charged. I shut the door behind us, so no one would be able to come in. I placed her on the old, brown couch and raced back to the kitchen. My hands clumsily drenched the rest of my shirt in cold water, but I didn't let myself pause.

When I returned, I knelt next to her, dabbing her hands and face with the wet fabric. The cold seemed to work, her breathing grew somewhat deeper, and her eyes half-opened.

But seeing her, so fragile and pale, tightened my chest. I couldn't understand why she'd done that, why she'd hurt herself. Mel was safe now. Joe and Laura were gone. We were meant to be beyond this.

But then, deep down, I knew. I'd seen it before. People who had suffered so much pain for so long began to long for it. They thought it was all they had coming. Bree wasn't any different. She had gone through hell, and she had begun to think that was where she belonged.

My throat constricted as I washed the clotted blood from her hands. "You don't deserve this," I said, more to myself than to her. "Not this. Not any of it."

I stared at her, her face still pale, her lips slightly shaking. If pain was all she was worthy of, then I'd rather be the one to carry the burden. I'd rather be the reason she's hurting than allow her to do this to herself again. Because I couldn't take it if she hurt herself. Not again.

I leaned in, resting my forehead against hers. "Why, Bree?" I whispered the words, my voice cracking. "Why are you doing this?" Warm against my hands, her blood soaked through the bandage. "Please… tell me."

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