This is a work of FICTION, made by and for adults 18+. The following chapter includes or will include depictions of mourning, sexual assault, battery, cutting, severe trauma (dissociation), bludgeoning, murder in self-defense, assault, murder by immolation, and sensitive terminology (cunt, bitch, slut). Reader discretion is HIGHLY advised, and a summary of traumatic events is provided.

The light flurry faded as the dawn warmed the spring air. From behind the creaky door of a cottage, a young woman with fiery curls poked her head out.

‘The snow is finally slowing,’ Aileene observed, glancing at the nearby tree dropping its collection.

With a huff, she opened the doorway. Wading through the snowfall, she hardly felt the frost on her toes nor the chill breeze under her dress. ‘Was the forest always so,’ her nervous gaze darted about until a rattling in the branches caught her attention. Peering up into the thick canopy, Aileene spotted the packed cheeks of a red squirrel darting home. ‘I guess I’m not so alone.’

Before long, she reached her favorite clearing—the sunlight seemed to break through the clouds, inviting her in.

“Well,” Aileene gruffled and stepped up to the center. She didn’t move for some time, though, apart from lightly stretching. She sullenly glanced back, ‘What are you doing, Aileene?’ before putting her arms forward. “Come on.” 

Aileene flinched.

“It’s just— one foot in front of the other, and—” With a final flex, Aileene took a step and danced in the way her mother taught her. Though initially clumsy, Aileene soon found her feet and spun about the field in fluttery orbits. Only the dimming sun relayed how long she flowed across the snow. She stopped only once to discover the source of a twig breaking, passing it off as another squirrel before continuing.

***

As a flaming glow caressed the clouds, Aileene realized, ‘Is it already that late?’

Catching her breath, she peered down at the compacted snow. “Oh, my.” The wide, irregular rings seemed supernatural against the white landscape. ‘I didn’t realize I had danced so much,’ a faint smile briefly crossed her lips. ‘I suppose I haven’t let myself enjoy anything since…

“I should head home before it gets dark.” She turned to leave but snapped to a rustling in the thicket. ‘That didn’t sound like a squirrel. A— fox, maybe?’ She peered into the woods; nothing was there. ‘Come to think of it,’ she cautiously walked away, ‘I don’t recall if I’ve seen a fox when there’s this much snow.’

On her way, Aileene detoured to a small clearing by the cottage. She knelt before a weathered mound of wood and charcoal before clasping her hands together.

‘Oh, Brigit,’ she prayed, ‘is my mother well? Are you looking after her?’ Aileene paused as if expecting a response. 

None came.

‘I miss her so much. Not a day has passed that I haven’t wished she was still here beside me. It’s been… so lonely, here on my own, but,’ she wiped the tears before they could fall, ‘but I’m still here. Surviving.’ Aileene looked to the sky. “Please,” a few drops finally fell, “if you can hear me, I… I’m so tired of being alone… and scared.”

There was no response to her plea.

‘I don’t know what I expected.’ With a glum huff, Aileene stood, cleaned her face, and dejectedly returned home. ‘Maybe I’ll dance again tomorrow if the snow isn’t bad. That seemed to cheer me up… a little, at least.’