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Her hair was damp. It was no surprise. Her mother had left her alone again. The bathwater had cooled down a while ago, and her fingers were very wrinkled.
Without meaning to, she began to shiver. Her nose was running. She didn't want to wipe it. It felt almost warm against her lips. She was so cold. The warmth of her snot didn't last long enough in the freezing room. Slowly, she ran one of her wet hands across the lower part of her face to wipe it away.
The shivering started slowly, only to become more violent over time. Before she knew it, she was grinding her teeth together. Her muscles ached from trying to stay warm. She wanted to get out of the bath.
If she got out, she would be cold for a few seconds and could cover herself with the towel. But her mother would be back any minute. She didn't want to anger her by getting out when she'd been told to stay put. The thought frightened her more and more. She was cold. She was so cold.
Her father found her crying like this. In the bath with cold water. Her lips were blue. She was trembling from head to toe as she stared desperately at the towel hanging peacefully on the door.
~
The water they had left outside froze. It was funny to go outside and find a piece of ice waiting for her. It amused her a lot.
She went so quickly to see her masterpiece that she forgot her warm clothes. It always happened to her, but she usually realized it close to home.
Between the tallest trees in her yard, she couldn't see where she was. Her skin felt tight, and her legs had begun to rub together.
Careful not to fall, she began to walk toward where she thought her house might be. Her feet moved slowly as she rubbed her hands together to warm them. Her breath appeared in small clouds around her head.
Her grandmother had told her to always wear a hat in winter. She only remembered this when her ears felt cold. She wished she had her hat on. Her teeth ached from shivering so much.
After a few steps, her bare foot hit a branch or a rock. She didn't think much about the object when her toes began to burn with pain in the intense cold. Her whole body crashed against the ground. The hard earth against her delicate skin brought tears to her eyes, tears that felt hot on her cheeks. It hurt. It hurt so much.
Lying there, her foot in her hands and tears streaming down her face, her father found her. His strong arms lifted her and gently carried her home. Her hot breakfast was waiting on the table.
~
Her room was dark. The sheets were thin. Beautiful and useless as sheets. She had always hated them.
Sometimes she looked around, wondering what the point was of all her mother's things. According to her, it was to make everything look more beautiful. But Xanthe always saw them as boring things cluttering the walls. She couldn't even touch them or look at them closely. She could barely walk in her own house most of the time. The hallways were narrow, crammed between furniture, shelves, and tables piled high with knick-knacks.
Tonight she was staring at a beautiful doll on a shelf. She couldn't touch it, but it was hers. It had been a gift from some relative whose name she didn't know. She had loved it. Her mother told her it wasn't for playing with and put it on the shelf. Whenever she saw it, she felt sad. The poor doll was so alone, just like herself.
The sneezes soon began, shaking the whole room with their force. When they finished, her stomach hurt. The decorative blankets weren't helping to keep her warm. She'd soon be sneezing again. She'd probably spend the night like that if it weren't for her father. He had a smile on his face when he came into the room with three lovely blankets to wrap her up until she was warm again.
~
The argument echoed through the windows. Her parents' voices were carried away by the wind until only an angry murmur remained. Her head ached every time she stayed.
Hugging her knees, she wondered how she had ended up there. She couldn't remember her way to the roof. First, she had been at the table, watching her parents hiting it, their voices rising. And then she was on the roof, with the shouting beneath her feet.
The sky was overcast. The moon barely visible behind the clouds. It would have been relaxing if it weren't winter.
In her haste to escape the fight, she had forgotten her coat. Her socks were damp, perhaps from the night's dew. Her toes felt unpleasant. It hurt to move them.
Her hands rubbed her arms up and down in a futile attempt to generate some warmth. Xanthe covered her eyes only to find her face wet. She didn't know how long she had been crying. She didn't know if anyone had noticed her absence. She felt alone there. She didn't even have the stars.
After several minutes, the voices subsided. Heavy footsteps approached, but she wasn't afraid. Her father had come looking for her after all. He had noticed she was missing.
He put his arms around her. He held her close. He stroked her hair. He dried her tears. He kissed her forehead, telling her everything would be alright. And finally, he sat beside her and watched the clouds drift by.
In the end, when enough time had passed, she discovered how she had gotten on the roof.
~
Alone. She was alone.
It didn't always happen. Her mother could at least do that well. That was what she had always thought. Her mother. Driving home from school in the most awkward silence possible. Cold eyes watching her from the rearview mirror.
But today was different. Her mother wasn't waiting for her like every other day. Her teacher stayed and waited with her for a while, until she too had to go home.
The wind was turning cold this time of year, and it scared her. It scared her not going home. The icy breeze on her legs scared her. She was so scared, so scared.
Still, she sat in front of the door waiting. The tips of her shoes tapping together in an attempt to keep herself entertained.
She had tried calling her parents. Both of them. Neither answered. Her stomach clenched as she heard both calls go to the answering machine. She wondered where they could be that neither of them bothered to show up. Maybe she had to go home alone. Maybe they had left her there.
Her socks only reached below her knees. Exposed, they felt cold. Her hands were unable to offer them much warmth or protection. She just wanted to go home and wrap herself in her bed's blankets. Surround herself with pillows and stuffed animals. She wanted to hug her father while he worked. She wanted so much, and yet she was there.
In the end, she had to wait another half hour for her father to arrive. His sad and desperate face as he came out to meet her. His warm hands on her shoulders and face. His rough fingers drying her tears. A kiss on her forehead, a hug, and then she got into the heated car.
Just a car ride back to her room in her father's arms. His scent in her memory as she fell asleep between her sheets.
~
The ground was rough. Uncomfortable and cold. Everything was so cold.
Her jacket couldn't protect her from the worst of winter. She could feel the wind, so strong, piercing through her clothes. She felt like a balloon, a piece of cloth filled with air. She couldn't rise, she couldn't move. She needed warm air.
Every time she moved her fingers, they hurt. Her hands were cold, and rubbing them seemed like a waste of time. She couldn't feel her toes.
It was strange being there. As if she were waiting for something or someone. As if she had somewhere to go.
Her nose was freezing. It was hard to breathe; it hurt. The wind stole the air from her lungs with every breath. Maybe if she went somewhere sheltered from the weather.
Although, the truth was, she didn't want to move. She didn't want to be seen leaving. She wanted to stay where there were people. Where someone would care to see her.
She missed her house. Her bed. The armchairs. The warmth. She hated winter. She hated the cold. She was afraid and alone. So alone. For the first time in her life, she was alone. And she was cold. And no one would come looking for her.
She missed her father. His hugs. His voice. His face. She missed being inside with him. She wanted to be in her bed while he read to her one more time. She wanted her parents to be together.
She even missed her mother a little. Her singing. Her smile. Her interest in her. At least she had always let her do what she wanted. She had bought her guitar. She had paid for the lessons. She had listened to her play.
But no one would come looking for her. Not this time.
Taking her guitar, she got up from her seat.
At least moving around would warm her body a little.