Frozen Heart

Three months ago, Jessica and her family were involved in a car accident. She's been living with her uncle. A suspicious man dressed in black has been following her, what's going to happen to her?

Frozen Heart

It's September, 13th, 2021. It's been three months since my family was involved in a car crash. My parents tragically lost their lives during the accident, but I somehow managed to survive. The doctors were amazed by my unusual, extraordinarily quick, full recovery after the accident; they were skeptical as they sent me back to my, now empty, house, still not convinced that I was fully recovered. My mother was dead. My father was dead. My grandparents had long passed away. My aunt died of cancer four years ago. My living relatives had settled down far out-of-state, mostly because they were seeking an easy escape from family gatherings. The only remaining option was one of my uncles, on my father's side; Uncle Gary was his name. I've been living in his house for a week or so now. I rarely see Uncle Gary, which I'm not complaining about. He smells of something rancid, as if he hasn't showered in months. He also smokes, which makes it even worse. His hair is greasy and black, I swear he never even shaves, and he wears clothes that look like they haven't been washed in absolutely forever. I'd rather not have him around the house very often; actually, to be honest, I'd rather not see him at all.

When I arrived at his house by taxi, I pulled my luggage out of the trunk and turned to face the home of my uncle. The house was small and shabby; a tall fence surrounded the small property as if warning others to stay away for their own safety. The small patches of grass that hadn't withered and died were extremely overgrown, and weeds sprouted along the fence. The windows on the first and second floors looked like they were randomly placed on the house, and were extremely dirty. I spotted a crack in a window on the top floor, and what possibly looked like a wasp nest. The color of the house was a repulsive green, and the paint was chipped here and there along the house. I carefully opened the gate, which was tall enough to pass as a door, and almost tripped over a huge rock sitting in the middle of the gravel path. I regained my balance and stood in the center of the path for a moment. I spotted green weeds poking out of the rocks, a strong wind blew past me, blowing the weeds side to side violently. I glanced behind me, the taxi had sped off as soon as I had collected my belongings, glad to be rid of this place. I closed the gate and walked closer to the house. Stepping up the stairs made me nervous. They groaned under the weight of my luggage, it felt like the wood was completely rotted. I hurried up the six or seven steps and walked to the front door; I knocked on the faded white door and I knocked again, then once more. I took a step back and spotted a huge spider, on a web at the right hand corner, near the ceiling, casually wrapping a dead fly up in the web. I corrected myself, an almost dead fly, as I caught a glimpse of it struggling. I barely dodged out of the way as the front door swung open, it caught the end of my suitcase, toppling it over; I winced as it crashed back down the stairs I had just climbed up. I sighed and looked back at the open door where my uncle stood. He stood in the doorway and peered at me, well, it was more of a scowl than anything. So, he was scowling at me, my luggage had a dent in it; we were even as far as I was concerned. I forced a smile in his direction then trudged down the stairs to retrieve my luggage. I hauled it up the stairs, carefully taking one step at a time. My uncle had disappeared into the house, so I took that as a "come in, if you must". I took a calming breath and lugged my suitcase with me as I entered the house.

I dragged my luggage through the hallway and into the sitting room, where Uncle Gary was sprawled across the filthy couch. The couch was an ugly green, grease stains were splattered on it, garbage was piled at the right corner at the end of the couch, and dirty dishes were stacked on the floor near it. I could clearly see dust balls covering the floor. A bookshelf stood at the corner of the room, lonely, deserted, and alone. The bookshelf only held a couple books, and a plate of what could have possibly been called a sandwich a few years ago, long since forgotten under the coating of dust. It looked like the whole room was covered in a thick blanket of dust and grime. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling; it was obvious he never cleaned.

Uncle Gary glared up at me, his head resting on the disturbingly dirty armrest of the couch. His face told me "I don't want to see you". Suddenly, Uncle Gary sat up, cleared his throat, coughing a bit as a cloud of dust was disturbed on the couch. "Your room is upstairs. I'm going out to drink for awhile. There's nothing in the fridge, so good luck finding something to eat." He stood up, began walking away, then turned back to me. "Don't touch any of my stuff." he growled, and then he was gone.

I looked around the room once more, then turned into the hallway; I found my way into the kitchen and looked in all the cupboards, drawers, and the fridge. Uncle Gary had been correct, there really wasn't any food in the house. What had he been eating since his food had run out? When had he run out of food? I wandered back into the sitting room; I decided to take a closer look at the books on the bookshelf, since my uncle doesn't exactly seem like the 'reading type'. I picked up one of the books; it was a fairly large book, and there was a pretty green cover on the book. I opened it, a cloud of dust drifted out of the book into my face. I blew on the pages, ridding the book of at least some dust, the pages were yellow and old. I glanced in the back of the book, the author was Uncle Gary's wife. She had died quite a few years ago due to some mysterious disease. I closed the book and picked up the other books and noticed they were all also written by Uncle Gary's wife.

I walked into the hallway where I had left my luggage. I gripped the handle of my bag and stared up at the tall, menacing staircase in front of me. I groaned and started marching up the stairs, taking one at a time slowly. When I pulled myself up to the second floor finally, I looked around. I spotted two doors; I assumed one of the doors was my room, and the other one was possibly a bathroom. I walked over to the closest door and turned the handle and pushed. It didn't budge. I yanked it back a bit, but it still didn't move. I peeked through the keyhole, but I couldn't see anything since it was pitch black in the room. I drug my luggage to the second door, near the end of the hallway, and placed my hand on the door knob. I turned it and gave it a nudge; the second door opened easily. I glanced back at the first door before pulling my suitcase into my room.

The walls of the room were a light tan color, and the floor was a dark brown. The bed looked like it hadn't ever been used, and the blankets and sheets were on the floor as if Uncle Gary was passing a message to me saying "If you're going to live here, you fend for yourself". I could manage that, I guess. On the opposite wall of the bed was a large dresser; a wide mirror hung over the dresser. I walked over to the bed and dropped my bag on it, then unzipped it. I opened a couple drawers in the dresser, then decided against it, closing them quickly. The whole room would have to be cleaned tomorrow for sure. I closed my suitcase, leaving it unzipped, and walked out of my room, closing the door behind me.

I glanced at 'mysterious door number one' before I trudged down the stairs, then I ambled into the living room. I spotted a clock sitting on top of the dusty, worn TV in front of the couch. According to that clock, it was "8:21 pm" I sighed as the one flipped to a two. I glanced outside, it was dark already. I stumbled back upstairs and dug my sweater out of my bag before heading to the front door. I noticed a spare pair of keys near the door just before I left, I picked them up and slipped them into my jeans pocket, then left to go get something to eat.

I stamped my feet on the ground as icy wind threatened to steal away my cherished warmth. It was cold outside, but I managed to find a 7-Eleven within walking distance of the house. It wasn't that long of a walk, maybe six minutes. I hurried into the store and rubbed my hands together. I'll never complain about wearing a coat outside again. When I was younger, my parents always told me to bring a coat with me wherever I go, even if it seems like I won't need it. I always complained about it, mumbling and grumbling, and I always ended up climbing in the car without it. But of course, one of my parents would always secretly hide it away in the trunk of the car, since they knew I'd want it later. I smiled back on that memory as I browsed the chip isle. I picked up a bag of Lay's plain potato chip, then headed to the pre-made sandwiches. I decided on a turkey sandwich that looked at least relatively fresh, then found myself a Dr Pepper to buy as well. A half-asleep cashier took my money and handed back my food in a plastic bag that had the 7-Eleven logo on it. I smiled and waved good-bye before I exited the store.

I walked home carrying my food bag over my shoulder. As I walked, the hairs on the back of my neck suddenly stood on end, and out of the corner of my eye I saw a man that seemed to be following me. He was dressed in black pants, turtle neck, and a black sweater with the hood up. He was tall, with broad shoulders. He looked like he was completely made of muscle. He looked extremely strong; actually, let me put it this way, he looked like someone who could easily overpower me if he chose to. I sped up, practically running as I got home. I slipped into the house quickly and locked and then bolted the door shut for extra measure. I dropped my food on the sitting room couch and sprinted over to the window and peeked out. The man I had saw earlier was across the street, staring at at the house from behind a light post on the sidewalk. I shuddered and snapped the curtains closed.

I snatched my food off the couch and went into the kitchen, peering in every corner and cupboard for any hiding men. After I was satisfied that no one was in the kitchen with me, I was annoyed with myself that I was feeling so paranoid.

I had finished my sandwich, half my chips, and around one fourth of my Dr Pepper already and I was sipping my soda as calmly as I could, still freaked out from the incident earlier. I practically jumped out of my skin when there was a knock at the door and I spilled a bit of soda on the table. I set the can down and peeked around the corner at the door. I snuck into the hallway and peered through the peephole in the door. It was my uncle who was standing on the porch, he looked irritable and soaked with water. I unbolted and unlocked the door, pulling it back and stepping out of the way as Uncle Gary charged into the hallway. I glanced outside, it was raining, and I couldn't see any farther than the bottom step leading up to the house. It was impossible to see if the man earlier had left or not. I shut the door, bolting and locking it again, just to be safe. Uncle Gary was grumbling, a practically nonstop cussing streaming out of his mouth, "Forgot my keys", more cursing, "Why did you lock and bolt the door?" more cussing... I sighed and walked back into the kitchen. Picking up my chip bag, I walked back to my uncle who was yanking off his dirty old hiking boots and peeling off his smelly socks. I held out the chip bag for him, offering him some chips. He glared at it as if it were infected with some kind of disease, then stormed into his room. I shrugged, finished off the bag, walked back into the kitchen, and threw my dinner garbage away. I hunted around the kitchen until I found a washcloth. I soaked it with water from the tap, which ran a scary, murky, brown color. I cleaned up the soda I spilled earlier, then rinsed out the rag, hanging it near the sink to dry. I picked up my Dr Pepper and padded up the stairs into my room. Then I remembered the blankets and sheets on the floor and headed down the stairs with them and knocked on my uncle's door. He peered out through a crack in the door.

"What do you want?" he asked coldly.

"Do you have a washer and dryer?"

"Yeah, look for it in the kitchen."

I mumbled a thanks, then padded through the hallway into the kitchen. After some serious searching, I found the washing and drying machines. I tossed my sheets and blankets in the washer and started it. I ambled over to the sitting room and turned the TV on; I flipped through TV channels, trying to find something to watch. I settled on a crime show that I had never heard the title of. Halfway through, however, I regretted choosing it. Unlike some people, I have a hard time changing channels once I've found a program to watch and have been watching it for awhile. This particular episode was where the detective crime agency people were investigating a murder. A young girl was being followed, and next thing they know, she's dead. So this creepy stalker murderer, guy is going around following young girls, then waiting till they're alone and murdering them. During a commercial, I ran to switch my sheets and blankets over to the dryer, since I heard the buzzer go off a minute or two ago. When I came back, it was at the end of the commercials. Naturally, at the end of the episode, the good guys caught the bad guy. It wouldn't be quality TV unless it had the cheesy sobbing and hugging of the families when the murderer is caught at the end, right? But the murderer sort of reminded me of my creepy stalker guy earlier this evening, which totally freaked me out. I pressed the power button for the TV and ran to get my finished laundry.

I piled my blankets and sheets in my arms and ran upstairs with them. I set them on the bed, then zipped my suitcase up, and set it on the floor next to the dresser. After that, I made my bed. Once I was done, I dug through my clothes in my bag and pulled out my favorite pair of pajamas: long turquoise blue pants with little orange stars, and a long sleeved orange top.

I flicked the light off and crawled in bed, pushing away today's and past events. Instead, I thought of what tomorrow might bring, and wished for a nice, pleasant dream.

I shot up out of bed, I was in a cold sweat. I had had a nightmare; I guess my wish for a nice, pleasant dream wasn't answered. I sighed and pulled my covers off me, and stood up. I quietly padded downstairs and peeked my head into the living room. "9:43 am", I sighed. I wondered what I was going to do today; school hadn't started yet, so that wasn't a possibility. I ended up watching TV all day, lounging around the house in my pajamas. I ran to the 7-Eleven to get lunch and dinner in one trip and made it back without any difficulties. It was a very relaxing, but very boring day.

The next morning, I thought maybe I'd watch TV all day again, but decided I'd rather not. I settled on going to the library, there are so many books I can read there; besides that, there are computers at the library.

I ambled upstairs into my room again. I dressed in black jeans, a bright blue t-shirt that says "Save the planet --- Don't do homework" on it. I pulled on white socks and my comfortable tennis shoes. On the way out of my room, I threw on a black sweater and stuffed my wallet in my sweater pocket and zip the pocket up so it won't fall out. I grabbed my toothbrush and ran down the stairs and into the bathroom. After brushing my teeth, and ran a brush through my long copper, mahogany hair, then left the house.

It was a tiring walk to the library, and by the time I arrived, I was soaked with rain. The weather recently has been unpredictable; one moment it could be sunny, and the next it'll be pouring rain on your head. I sighed, peeling off my wet sweater. I found a chair at a table near the fiction section and draped my sweater over the back of it. I wandered the rows, picking a random book from a shelf. It turned out to be a fairly old Steven King book. I walked back to my table and relaxed into my chair with my book.

Around the middle of chapter three, I looked up to find a boy, around my age, sitting at a table near to mine, watching me read. He smiled, stood up, and walked over to me. He spun the chair next to me around and dropped into it backwards. He rested his chin on his right palm as his left hung loosely over the back of the chair. He was tall; he had bright blue eyes, brown hair, and he wore a playful smile; he was wearing jeans and a red t-shirt that said "I'm a Bookworm" on it. He also wore black square framed glasses that were lowered down on his nose as he peered over them.

"Do you normally stare at girls in the library as they read?" I asked, with an amused expression on my face.

"No. Not usually," he smiled. "So what are you reading?"

"Steven King."

"Oooooh, Steven King. Creepy stuff there."

"I guess so." I shrugged.

"You're a fast reader, huh?"

"Hmm? Yeah, I guess so... Wait, how long have you been watching me?"

"I'm not sure. For awhile I guess."

I look away, embarrassed as he grinned at me. "So, who are you and why were you staring at me exactly?" I asked.

"I'm Aaron. Oh, I don't know why I was staring at you." I raised one of my eyebrows in suspicion, "Really! I really don't know!" he assured me. Then, suddenly, he said "Oh, hey, who's that guy over there?" He motioned to his right at someone in the corner of the library. I glanced over in the direction and spotted the man from before; the tall muscleman stalker, still dressed in the same black pants, turtle neck, and a black sweater with the hood up from before. He was staring straight at me. I cursed under my breath. "Do you know him? He's been staring at you for a long time now. Even before me, which was quite awhile ago."

"Omigod, he's here?!" I felt jumpy and scared.

"Ex-boyfriend, maybe?"

"No way!"

"Boyfriend, then?"

"Absolutely not! I haven't ever dated. Not currently, and not in the past. He's some creepy guy that's been following me. He's totally freaking me out." I watched him out of the corner of my eye.

"Ah, so you're single...? Single girls are fair game."

I swung my head back to face Aaron. I gaped at him for a moment, he smirked at me. I looked away again, my face felt hot; I was probably blushing. I glance at the creepy stalker guy; he was still staring at me. "I better get home." I manage to say to Aaron.

I turned back to him, he looked slightly disappointed. "What's your name?"

"Jessica."

"Will I see you again, Jessica?"

I stand up and collect my things, and before I pass him, I whisper, "Yes, no, maybe so. Who knows?" I checked out my Steven King book and hurried out of the library.

It was dark already, I had spent way too long in the library. The moon had risen, it looked like it was a full moon tonight. Halfway home, I caught a glimpse of my creepy stalker guy out of the corner of my eye. I tucked my book under my arm and sped up. He matched my pace; I began full out running, taking a sharp turn into the graveyard, hoping to lose him. I ran for awhile, then glanced behind me; I let out a sigh of relief when I didn't see him. My thoughts wandered to Aaron for a moment, which made me blushed. I pushed the thought of Aaron behind a mental door and closed it. Now was not the time to be thinking about some guy I had met at the library.

I looked around, I seemed to be lost. I exhaled, I was completely and totally frustrated. What was I suppose to do now? I had gotten turned around and lost in the graveyard; besides that, it was extremely foggy, which made matters worse. I chewed on the side of my thumb and looked around more, I decided to walk to my right, which was the direction of the moon at the current time.

After walking for awhile, the fog began to clear a bit. I was thanking my lucky stars that I had worn good shoes for walking and running in today. I came to a clearing, the fog swirled around my legs and ivy tangled and wrapped around graves at my feet. I spotted a stone staircase leading somewhere, two ominous and eerie mausoleums loomed above me next to the stairs. I shuddered, just the thought of being in a graveyard with all these dead bodies for so long makes my skin crawl. Someone materialized at the top of the steps, his silhouette clearly visible thanks to the moon's bright luminosity. It was him again; my creepy stalker guy had managed to follow me. He slowly descended the stairs towards me. He began taking two stairs at a time, he was speeding up. I turned and ran in the opposite direction. Wind whistled past my ears, all I could hear was his fast footfalls behind me. I threw myself forward blindly through the dark. A branch whipped my forehead, I could feel blood trickle down my face from the scratch. His footfalls seemed to be growing louder and louder, the sound pounded on my eardrums. I tripped over a small gravestone, landing flat on my face. My lip burned, I tasted blood. I scrambled to my feet only to fall again over another headstone in front of it. A rock, or maybe it was a stick, pierced my knee. I saw flashes of white, I clutched at my knee, it was warm and sticky. I screamed as he descended on me, poised for his inevitable attack. I looked around for a weapon, anything I could get my hands on to use. A stick I could stab him with, or a rock I could cause blunt damage with, anything.; it was useless though, it was simply just too dark. I stumbled to my feet, turning away from him and dragging myself as far and as quickly as I could. I heard the rustle of leaves behind me; I whipped my head around, looking behind me to see how far he was from me. He was gaining speed, closing the distance between up. I sped up and faced forward again. Just as I turned my head, I collided with a tree and instantly fell unconscious.

I opened my eyes. It was dark. I was lying on my back, a pillow under my head, the ground was cushioned. I reached above me, my hands hit wood. To the sides of me were wood. I touched wood behind my head as well. I took a deep breath, pushing the frantic feeling of hysteria away. I could feel the lack of oxygen weighing on my lungs. My knee was in agony, my lip stung, and my forehead was tender and sore.

"Hello?!" I screamed.

Nothing. No response. I pushed on the wood above me slightly, hoping to get a bit of light to see with. A small amount of soil slipped in, I could feel it, it was cold and damp. Then it suddenly occurred to me, I was being buried alive; I was suffocating in a coffin, in a grave. I was going to die.

"Someone help me!! I'm not dead!! I'm being buried alive here people!! Help!!" I shrieked.

No response. I must be alone wherever I am.

I clawed at the wood above me, I even punched it helplessly quite few times; I could feel my hands bleeding, splinters under my nails and sticking out of my knuckles without a doubt. A small sob escaped me. I was going to die today; any minute now I'll run out of air. I don't know how long I was unconscious before, so who knows the duration of time I've actually been buried for. Breathing was becoming difficult; I closed my eyes. Unwillingly accepting death is a hard thing, I had never known before now. I opened my eyes again, deciding to try to escape once more. I opened the coffin lid as much as I could, the small pile of dirt next to me growing. I clawed at the dirt outside of the coffin; dirt was smearing on my clothing, encrusting on my hands, working it's way beneath my fingernails. I give up; there's no way I'll be able to claw my way out of here under so much dirt. I sigh and relax my muscles; as death approaches, I speculate on the rarely touched subject of heaven and hell. Now that death was so close, I found myself hoping I'd follow my parents to wherever they are. Unless they're in hell, then I'd rather go to heaven and leave them behind. No offense intended. I'm not too fond of the whole idea of fire, brimstone, and an eternity of torture; it really doesn't sound appealing at the current time, well, I doubt it would ever sound appealing. I run out of things to think about, so I simply close my eyes, sighing again.

When do you know that you've died? Since your soul supposedly leaves your body, right? The people left behind know you're dead because, well, your body's cold, you're not moving, you're not breathing, take your pick. But when do you know you're dead? I wonder, does your soul say goodbye to your earthly body when it leaves? Maybe that's the warmth in your body; maybe your soul is like a small fire, kindling emotions such as love and hate, warming the temperature of your body and such. It was a nice passing thought just as I took my last breath and met my demise.

My eyes flickered open; I was lying down on something soft. A stream of light was coming from somewhere, and I was staring at a white ceiling. I pulled myself up into a sitting position; I looked around, I was in a bed, there was an IV stuck in my arm, and I was dressed in a hospital gown. I must be in the hospital I realize. I surveyed the room completely, the room was blindingly white, I blinked. A door in the corner of the room, to my left, was slightly ajar and also a sink and mirror, and there was a tan couch sitting in the corner to my right. The biggest shock was that my parents were sleeping on the couch, my father's hand resting on my mother's head. They both looked fast asleep.

"Mom...? Dad...?"

My father stirred, "Oh, you're finally awake." He smiled, shaking my mother awake.

"Honey!!" She shouted, embracing me tightly. Her skin was icy cold, how long had she been sleeping there?

"What happened...? I was in a coffin and--"

My father cut me off, "You've been in a coma for three years."

"Oh. Can I get up?"

"Sure, Sweetheart, the doctor gave you permission." My mother smiled kindly.

I yanked the thin sheets off me, revealing a bandaged knee. "I had a terrible nightmare," I began, walking over to the window to stare outside. "You and dad died in the car crash, and then I started living with Uncle Gary. Then some scary stalker murderer guy started following me around and--" I froze. Outside, across the street, I saw him. He was talking on his cellphone, and trying to pull a taxi over at the same time. I stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over my parents in the process of trying to get away from the window.

I felt like I was going to be sick. My parents sat on the edge of the bed, facing the sink, as I ran over to it. I rested the palms my hand. I took deep, calming breaths until I had relaxed more. I looked up into the mirror to smile at my parents, but they were gone. I whipped around, but there they were, sitting on the bed, clearly visible. I glanced back into the mirror, but their figures had disappeared again. All I saw was my reflection. My red hair was dirty and a complete mess. My head had a bandaged wrapped around it, but I could still see the faint line of a deep cut and a large bump. My bottom lip was cracked and bleeding; I looked down at my hands, dirt encrusted my hands and under my fingernails. Splinters were poking out of my knuckles and under my nails. I double checked the mirror, my parents were definitely not visible in it, but they were there for sure, right? I glanced back at them, they smiled kindly, warmly. This had to be real; I smiled back at them.

Suddenly a nurse peeked her head into my room, "Omigod, you're awake?!" She looked from me to my parents who were sitting on my bed. She looked confused for some reason. "What are you staring at? It's just your bed..."

I gaped at her; my eyes switched back and forth from the nurse to my parents who sat on my bed. "But, my par---"

She cut me off, "I'll go get the doctor. You'll have to wait here alone for a bit though, you can lay back down if you want. I'll be back!" then she was gone. I glanced at my parents, they smiled at me. The warmth in their eyes, from before the crash, simply a distant memory. I stared into the mirror that was empty of their figures. My heart felt cold and heavy, as if it had been frozen in solid ice.

Author's Note

Dear Reviewers,

This is my first posted story and I hope you like it! Feel free to post a review. Go easy on me though, hehe. ^-^

From,
Mikayla W