Janet Stevenson

The Cold

Janets Age; 14
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I shuffle down the hallway. Everything seeming like a dull blur. There was no bounce in my step, no light in my eyes, no smile on my face. It had been a year. A year. Dad was still hitting me. I was covered in bruises and cuts. No longer allowed to go to school. Only on rare occasions could I go outside.
My room was now plain, decorated only with white or grey. I walked out into the living room, my dad already in his chair, beside mom. Speaking of mom, she didn't do shit to save me from my loving fathers punches.
"The mails here. Go get it." He growled, a beer beside him despite how early it was.
I didn't even try to protest. I was broken. I was silenced.
I shut the door behind me, walking down the sidewalk. I wore a blue jacket, and jeans. It was extremely cold outside. I shoved my hands in my pockets, when I felt something metal. Pulling it out, I realized it was a pocket knife. Opening it up, I found myself admiring it. Grinning, I saw a squirrel scamper across the driveway. Suddenly, almost like instinct , I pushed my hand down on it. It squirmed, and I plunged the knife deep into its small furry body.
I felt happy. In power. Alive. For once, I controlled something. I pulled the knife out, kicking it lifeless body to the grass. 'Sorry' I thought, retrieving the mail. I walked back up to the porch, alarmed to find the door was locked. I jiggled the handle, panicking. I pounded my fist on the door, but nothing changed.
My eyes widened, and I continued pounding on the door. My finger turned numb, and I fell to my knees. I begged, tears falling down my cheeks. I hugged myself, my jacket doing nothing to warm me up.
"PLEASE!!" I screamed, as the icy air cut through me. I leaned my back against the door, shivering.
After what felt like years, I couldn't feel my legs. I slumped to the ground, shivering and crying.

EYELESS JACKS P.O.V

I looked at the girl with pity. It was abnormal that I would feel such a need to help someone. I turned to Toby. "What are you doing? Help her." I ordered. We were supposed to keep an eye on her anyways. That didn't necessarily rule out helping her. I watched him, after staring at me like I had seven heads, rush over to her. I exhaled. For some reason, I found myself hoping she would be alright.
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( It will be Janet's p.o.v for the rest of the story )

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I felt my body being lifted, and suddenly the feeling of warmth. I leaned against it, my teeth chattering. Was I dead? I opened one eye, seeing a boy with goggles. I opened my mouth, but was too cold to say anything. Instead, I just stayed silent.
The boy carried me around the house, and to my bedroom window. He pulled it open easily. Something that would take me well over an hour. He slipped inside, as if he'd been taught to do so.
He lay me down on my bed, wrapping me in blankets. He turned to climb out my window.
"W-wait." I shivered, and he turned to me. "Th-thank you."
He paused, and nodded. The boy pulled his bandana down. "You shouldn't be th-thanking me." The boy twitched.
I stared at the cut on his mouth, and nodded. He climbed out of the window, shutting it behind him.
I shut my eyes, thankful for the warmth.

My eyes shot open, realization pulling me from sleep. If he lived in one of the houses, than why did he come from the back of the house? Both our neighbors had tall white fences, with the house to the left of us owning security cameras.
So how could he live here if he came from the woods?...

Word count: 665