The Girl in The Snow

**SPOILER ALERT** (for another book I'm writing) This is the original story the character Melanie was in. I started on a novel with quite a bit more detail after writing this.

Chris

Yes, it was cold, he had to admit. Even under the knit gloves he had on, his fingers were numb. He longed to run as he waded through the snow towards the house. All he really wanted was a mug of hot chocolate in his hands, for it was the kind of morning precisely for that. Not only was the snow up to his ankles and still falling, but it was freezing cold outside. This was the kind of morning for a mug of the sugary goodness huddled up by the fireplace in one of those giant armchairs his father liked so much. Still fantasizing about the hour he intended to spend with the mug in his hands, he didn’t notice the lump in the snow until his face was buried in the freezing cold ice crystals.

In a moment, he was on his feet. The lump seemed to moan when he had tripped, and it was moving now. He got to his knees beside the lump, and started to paw at it with all the strength he had. Soon enough, his effort had uncovered a red fabric. Still digging, he saw more underneath. The dark denim jeans, the red sweater, the grey shirt that stuck out a little under the sweater. But most of all, the beautiful, glossy, black curls that fell neatly behind the girl’s face. She couldn’t have been older than sixteen, and she looked twelve. Her skin was deathly pale, and she shivered as a cold wind wove around her, and opened her eyes. Her chocolate brown eyes widened, then closed again at the sight of Chris. She went limp, and her breathing slowed.

Chris didn’t know what to do. His first thought was to take her into the house, get her warm, and then see if he could find out who she is, but he didn’t know if she was hurt and he knew that if somebody had a broken or fractured bone that you shouldn’t move them. The girl didn’t look like she was in pain, so he decided he would go with his first plan. She’ll freeze out here if I leave her. He thought.

He picked her up, staggering more at the limp girl’s beauty more than the sudden weight. The snow fell lightly on her eyelashes, making her look more like an angel than a girl. He carried her, walking slowly to the house, grateful when he could finally set her down on one of the couches, relieved that he no longer had to carry her weight. He retrieved a blanket from the closet in the family room, and covered her in it, making sure she would be warm soon. A few minutes passed, and her body seemed to be warming up, so he reluctantly left the room, vowing to himself that he would be back soon.

Melanie

Melanie opened her eyes. She sat up immediately, taking in the new room. No, no, no! He shouldn’t have brought me here! She had hoped playing dead would have made Chris leave her alone, like she’d seen in so many animal documentaries before. Why had Chris taken her here? This was even worse than a hospital, though she should have known that somebody would have found her by now, even though she hoped the heavy snowfall would help hide her. But why did a child have to find her? An adult finding her or knowing about her was enough, but a child? She couldn’t bear to think about what might happen to Chris. But still, he probably wouldn’t mind if she told him she had to go home. If it had been somebody else, maybe not so much.

She knew she had to get out of here. She pulled the blanket off, not letting it touch the floor before rushing over to the nearest window. Thank goodness the family room is on the ground floor. She thought. She shuddered just imagining what the fall would be like from the second story. There was no other choice. She tugged the window upwards, but it didn’t budge. She tugged again. It didn’t move. She began to pull frantically at the window, desperate to get away from Chris, just to protect him. She started crying as her efforts failed more and more. She pressed her forehead to the cool glass, wishing that she could be in the frosty air where her tears would soon freeze to her cheeks, if only to protect Chris. Her breath made clouds on the window, and she remembered how she loved drawing pictures on them at the orphanage. That was until she discovered what she was.

She stood there, imagining the things she would draw on the fog if she were not trying to be mature about the situation. She refused to think of childish things when she should be thinking of ways to escape. But that was not the only thought on her mind in place of escape methods. It stuck in her mind, like always, the thought of what she was. She tried to push it away, but it kept creeping back to her, like a cat, pouncing on the mouse, but this time the cat got distracted and was away for a little, until it remembered the mouse and came back. Oh, how she wished she was the cat.

The doorknob turned, and Melanie acted too late. Chris came in, his eyes focused on the bowl of steaming broth in his hands until he had set it down on the table. His eyes lingered on the spot where Melanie should have been, but then his head jerked upwards, scanned the room. When he found Melanie, his eyes grew wide, but then a slow intake of breath and the relaxing of his muscles indicated that he was going to accept her behavior.

“You’re up.” he noted, but lamely. “Are you warm enough?” Melanie nodded, too stunned to speak.

Melanie searched his eyes to read his emotions like she did with so many people, but soon found that no emotion in his eyes was permanent, as she could see many emotions flicker by in his eyes, but she thought that he was confused and pitiful mostly. “Chris, I’m a danger to you, I need to leave.”

She realized the mistake as soon as Chris’ eyes widened. “How did you know my name?”

“It’s . . . a long story.” She said, thinking before each syllable left her mouth.

“We have time.” He said, still guarding the door.

“I can’t, Chris. I need to go.” His eyes looked hurt, but determined. “It would only hurt you.”

“I’ve been hurt before.” he was thinking of his father.

“Don’t think this will be better than your father’s funeral. It will be worse.” He only gaped at her. Oops.

“How do . . .” she cut him off before he could finish.

“I can . . . relate to people more effectively than others.” She said. “That’s all I can tell you.”

He sighed. I really want to know. How did she know? How did she survive being buried alive by all that snow? His thoughts bothered her. Why bother thinking about it when you were not going to get an answer? She knew better than to say anything else, so she strode to the door, and attempted to push past him. He blocked the door still.

“I need to go.”

“You aren’t going anywhere until I know who you are and that you are fine. Look at yourself, you’re still pale as a snowman.” He insisted stubbornly.

“Fine.” She sighed, exhausted with Chris all of a sudden.

Finally. Chris’ thoughts were not of defeat like hers, but victorious. He sat down on the sofa, and for a second Melanie’s thoughts were on making a run for it, but Chris, who played soccer, was sure to catch her. She joined him, folding her hands in her lap. Chris handed her the bowl of broth, but she shook her head.

“My name is Melanie, and I was born in October. I have no precise birthdate, so the people at the orphanage say I was born on the first. At the age of ten, I noticed it.

“Whenever somebody was near me, I could hear whispers. I soon realized that they were my companion’s thoughts. Two men came for me a year later, but I escaped.

“I got a fake ID, and hid for a while using the little money I had. Everybody knew me as Janet Grey, but I knew everybody as Jacob, the jock who acts tough but really is soft on the inside, and as Erin, who wishes her name was different and loves to read and dress up her little sister as fairy tale characters. For three years, I hid this way. I was searching for my mother, who I knew could help me, when I ended up here. The storm hit, and I couldn’t see, so I lay on the ground to wait it out, but then I was covered in snow, and I could still breathe, but I was so comfortable, if not cold, so I stayed. And now you know my whole story.”

Chris sat, staring at his hands for a moment, before looking into her eyes. “Why are you dangerous to me?”

“If those two men find out you helped me. . .” she shuddered.

Chris hopped to his feet at her movement. “Are you cold?”

“No.” he relaxed, sinking back onto the couch. “Can I leave now?”

“I. . .” he stammered, not knowing what to say. He didn’t want her to leave, but he knew she didn’t want to stay.

Melanie seemed to shrink at his hesitation. She knew what he was thinking, so shouldn’t she understand?

“No, I don’t, Chris. Your reasons are selfish, no offence, so no, I don’t see why I should not leave.” She said sternly.

“I . . .”

“No, I’m leaving. I can’t hurt you. In fact, I’m hurting you every second that I’m here.” She said, and rose gracefully off the couch. She seemed to glide to the door. Putting her hand on the doorknob, she took one last look at Chris, his copper hair messy, his freckles scattered over his face, his eyes, so easy to read. But she forced herself to look away, turn the doorknob, and walk out. She expected him to run after her, to beg her to stay, like he was thinking, but she was alone. She walked out of the house, and shivered, wishing she had asked him for a coat before leaving. She took a deep breath, and walked out into the snow once again. She headed in the direction she had been heading earlier, and kept walking, resisting the urge to look behind her. If she saw Chris’ eyes from the window, she would have no choice but to stay. She didn’t understand why she wanted to stay so badly, she had only known Chris for an hour. Not much time to become this attached to a person, yet so much.

She made a game of holding her breath until she was out of sight of the house, and it made her walk faster. She gasped for air when the house was gone, and hoped that Chris wasn’t following her. She didn’t hear any of his thoughts, so he must not be nearby. When she had walked for quite a while, she reached a highway. Cars zoomed past, there one second and gone the next. She was afraid to cross it, so she decided to follow it. She walked down the highway, keeping her head low, afraid to be seen.

“Melanie! Look out!” his voice wasn’t heard. She kept walking, until she felt herself slammed to the ground, and fire raged in her arm. It wasn’t the flames that made her pass out, it was Chris’ face.

Chris

She’d been asleep for a day by that point. When she was brought back to Chris’ home, she had been unconscious. When Chris had slammed into her, knocking her out of the way of the truck, she had landed on her arm, shattering one of the bones in it. The drugs the doctor gave her for the pain had been responsible for the rest of the time she had been unconscious.

He sat there every day, on the foot of the bed in the guestroom. When she opened her eyes for the first time in a day, she screamed when she saw his face.

“I need to go.” She kept mumbling afterwards. Over and over again. For the next few days, she slept, or pretended to sleep. One day, while Chris watched over her, her hand reached for his, and froze in mid-air.

“What am I doing?” she muttered in her sleep and pulled her hand away. Chris reached out for her hand, and it stiffened, but relaxed. She didn’t scream at her nightmares that night.

A month later, a knock on the door interrupted Melanie’s conversation. Melanie had been staying at Chris’ house with his mom ever since the crash.

“Mom.” Melanie said, shocked. “Mom!” she raced to the door, and pulled it open. She leaped into the open arms of the woman standing there. “Mom! I thought you were gone..."

The woman pulled Melanie to her chest tighter. The woman, Melanie’s mother, had the same black curls, but not the same round face and chocolate eyes. She pulled away after a minute, and her blue eyes scanned Melanie.

“Last I saw you, you were crying on the orphanage steps, and I was running away so I could find your father.” She whispered. Tears fell from her cheeks, onto Melanie’s sweater. “I am . . .”

“I know, mom.” Melanie said. She turned to Chris. “Thank you so much for taking care of me. I’m afraid I have to leave now.”

Chris stared at her. “Can’t you stay?”

“No. I have to get away from here. I’m not trying to be noble, just trying to keep all the people I can safe.” She took her mother’s hand, and trudged out into the snow. “Goodbye, Chris.”

“Wait . . .” Chris said, reaching for her, but they were gone. Their footsteps ended just a little away from the door, and then there was the soft, glistening snow. Chris held Melanie’s sweater out, as if she was still there. “You forgot your sweater.” He murmured.

Author's Note

I know this isn't the best, but I just wanted to post this so anybody interested in 'Melanie' could learn a bit more about her. She does look as she is described in this story, as well as being able to do the other thing and Chris will still be in danger around her for the book.
(This was made for a school project quite a while ago)

Reviews

[Ashish]

One word for this work "mind blowing"
Thanks for sharing buddy :)