She jolted awake, cold in nothing but a small, white dress, enveloped in a room as dark as the night sky before impending dawn. She pulled at the spotless fabric, felt how soft and cotton-like the material was. She was sure the dress wasn’t her own. Her eyes watered as she wrapped her arms around herself, the cold air filtering in through an open window along with tiny flecks of what appeared to be pure white snow. 

Where was she?

Shifting to stand, she almost felt like hissing at the stone cold floors beneath her, the feeling of standing upon them similar to standing on sharp ice. She glanced around, looking for an exit, for some sign of where she was or something to give her a sense of identification. There was nothing; nothing except the stone floors and walls along with the opened window that allowed a stream of eerie wind to flow and circulate within the tiny room.

Who was she?

She glanced down at her hands, flexing them with a twinge of curiosity. Her hands almost resembled those of a skeleton; tiny, bony, and far too fragile looking. Her skin, a warm, deep brown in most places, was splotched in a number of different shades that were noticeably lighter as if she’d suffered a painful burn. Her lips twitched, unsure if they wanted to curl up in a smile or down in a displeased glower. She had no idea what she thought of it, as she had no idea what, or who, had caused it.

She moved to stand before the window, glancing out into the dark, cold night. She couldn’t see anything if she wanted to. The snow was too thick, too blinding, and the tall trees served as a masquerade for the outside world. It felt unreal in a way, like an image out of a fairy tale. The next shiver that wracked her lithe frame had nothing to do with the cold. 

She paused. She could have sworn she’d just seen a figure move from the corner of her eye. It looked like a shadow in the form of a girl. She shut her eyes, her stomach twisted into a painful ball, and she turned around. She hated the way her emotions were designating her actions. She hated the feeling of fear and hesitancy, two things that feel as if they didn’t belong within her. Troubled by the thought, she decided to approach her current situation with valor.

She opened her eyes.

Six ghost-like figures stood before her. They surrounded her in a semi-circle, staring with eyes that were more like bottomless pits of black. Wisps of something that appeared like smoke twirled around their daunting, still forms. She stared back and realized she recognized every single one of them, some more than others.

The two on the very left, a brawny man and a petite woman, caught her attention the most. The man was huge, built entirely of broad shoulders, mean muscles, and intimidating spirits. The woman, on the other hand, seemed to be as intimidating as a lost kitten. Despite that, she seemed strong in her own unique kind of way. She stood tall, her aura honest and unafraid of the show of vulnerability.  The man was holding a hand to his heart and the woman pressed a palm to her neck, just above her collarbone. She didn’t even bother questioning why as her gaze trailed to the two men just beside the pair.

She didn’t know why, but the moment her eyes fell upon them a burning hatred erupted within her chest. They were both dressed in suits but one was missing his tie. One stood up straight, arms crossed over his chest, and the other was hunched over a bit as if he’d taken a blow to the stomach. Despite the helpless demeanor he emitted, he still stared her in the eye in a pretentious show of hostility.

The next figure to the side of them, a girl, somehow made her feel sicker than she’d already felt the moment she awoke. She was weak. There was no denying that with the way she was practically curled in on herself or how she was the only one who didn’t look her in the eyes. Instead, the girl’s gaze was fixated on the ground. Tiny weeps of sorrow escaped her mouth, the sound swallowed by the whistles of wind permeating the room. 

The last man, his lanky figure covered in a neat vest and slacks, undeniably smirked at her. Something about him made her just as angry as the other two men had, but she tried not to think too much. Her head already felt as if it might split open at any given second. 

“What are you?” She asked, taking a step back. “What do you want?”

The girl’s weeping grew louder, the gigantic man let out a deep, throaty laugh, and the tieless man sighed and, to her surprise, justified her inquiry with an answer.

“Another chance.”

She didn’t get the opportunity to question the statement because with one strong puff of wind, all six figures vanished and she was once again left alone.

She fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands.