Chapter Two: Thawing
I hadn’t realized I had fallen asleep. Or perhaps I hadn’t slept. Maybe I had just drifted into unconsciousness to escape the bitter cold. Either way, when I came to my senses, it was nearly dark out. The time when everything took on a blue quality, and shadows lingered near the edges of sunlight, waiting to swallow it up.
I knew something had woken me up. I was a very light sleeper, but once I fell asleep, I didn’t wake up, despite how uncomfortable I was. I’d only get up if something else made me.
Slowly, I raised numbed fingers to touch my lips, imagining the beautiful redness of them eaten away by frosty cold, turning it blue, like my surroundings. I could not feel a thing. I couldn’t even feel my damp sweater itching against my arm.
At least it had stopped raining.
I sat up slowly, light headed, and pressed a palm to my temple as my vision framed with blackness.
I heard nothing.
And then something brushed my shoulder, making me glance backwards. I didn’t jump- in fact I wasn’t sure if I could lift myself up at all.
Standing behind me was a woman whose beauty made even me jealous. She was wearing a dark green robe, the color summer leaves, and her hair was golden, as if the falling sun was not entering the other side of the world but instead melting into her mane. Her eyes were blue like the ocean, and seemed to dance with life.
“My child,” she whispered, and her voice was like sunshine. I could feel my bones begin to warm.
“Who are you?” I asked, my voice raspy, quiet. She smiled, gently lifting me up and sliding down under me. She leaned against the tree, wrapping her arms around me, and I leaned into her. I could feel my lungs warming, the water melting into my stomach and soothing it. My sweater started to defrost. I could feel hunger biting at my inside, and she must have felt it as well. She held me tighter, and the hunger, as if pulled back by some chain, died away.
“I am your mother,” she said.
“No, you are not,” I said, my voice louder, more clear, and yet I could somehow only whisper. What was this woman saying? How could she state something like that?
Yet as I stared up at her, I couldn’t help but wish she was my mother.
The woman chuckled, and the sound fogged my mind with happiness. She gently pushed some hair from my face, and her skin felt like velvet. “Sleep, little one,” she whispered. And I slept.
~~~~~~~~
“I found her!” I could clearly hear the shout, but it sounded so far away. I cracked my eyes open, peering through my eyelashes. My eyes were blurred with sleep, and I couldn’t see. I closed them again.
“It’s alright, sweetie. It’s alright now,” someone murmured into my ear. I felt myself being lifted, and I stayed limp, drifting between sleep and consciousness.
“Oh, my baby!” My mother’s voice made me open my eyes. She was darting towards me, and the stranger holding me, relief evident on her face. I lifted my head up slightly, waking up at the sight of her. “Oh, thank God!” she cried, pulling me into her arms and cradling me against her. I stared up at her blonde hair, which I used to think so beautiful. Now it looked ugly, dirty. And her large brown eyes, which used to look so innocent; they disgusted me now, especially filled with this much concern.
I would much rather the other woman I met be my real mother. But some instinct made me wrap my arms around her neck and hug her. She hugged me back, and then I was being pulled from her, into my father’s large chest.
“We were so scared. Why did you run off?” he asked softly. I didn’t reply. I closed my eyes and buried my face against his neck, feeling him lift me up. He thanked and apologized the other people present, never letting go of me. I could feel my mother right by my side, and every so often she brushed the hair from my face. But it was rough, uncomfortable, compared to my other mother. My real mother, I decided right then and there. That woman in the woods was my real mother.
~~~~~~~~
Later that night, It walked into my room and leaned against my bed. I opened my eyes, and he startled slightly. He must not have been expecting me to wake. He should have known better.
I stared into his big blue eyes and smirked. His eyes were dull, inanimated, and quite an ugly shade of blue. Not like my real mother's eyes.
“What?” he whispered, noticing, for once, my smugness.
“I have a secret,” I whispered back. “Something I found out in the forest.”
“Really?” His eyes grew bigger still.
“Yep. But I can’t tell you.” I turned my back to him.
I heard It hesitate by my bedside, debating on whether to bug me about it or not. I almost wanted him to. Maybe if he asked me enough I would tell him.
But no. I heard him walk across the carpet and quietly shut the door. Anger pounded against my heart. It should be dying to know my secret. He should have climbed into my bed and annoyed me until I told him. But he hadn’t. Perhaps he was dying inside. Perhaps he was just good at hiding it. And until he decided to ask, he’d be withering and decaying in his little head, wishing, praying, begging for the secret to come to him.
It was the only thing that comforted me that night.
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