A Warm Feeling

>It takes a moment, what with your sleep deprivation and evident inebriation, but it does happen
>You blink and take notice of the snow
>Snow on your hands
>Snow on your head
>Snow’s fucking everywhere
>Why’s there snow everywhere?
“Why’s there snow—”
>”It’s December first.”
>You slowly, ever so slowly, turn to look her in the eyes
>A set of purple eyes behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses looks up to you, despite her being a step behind on the stairs
“We live in a fuckin dese—”
>”We’re in the Northwest, Anon.”
>You blink
>You squint in concentration, trying to think of what bullshit nonsense this little harlot is speaking, but that makes your head hurt
>You smile when you look down at your shaking hands
>Oh
>Oh hell yeah!
>A wine bottle in each hand!
>That’ll remove the cold
>Nodding sagely to yourself, you take a large drink out of the white bottle before coming to a stop at the base of the stairs
>She bumps into you a moment later with a small ‘Ooph!’
>You continue to chug as she begins to pick up her nagging again
>Sure, she was a good conversationalist when you got her out of her comfort zone initially, but you stopped listening once she started to take the moral high ground
>’Where’d you get that crowbar, Anon?’
>’Nonononno, stop, Anon, STOP!’
>’Anon, those bottles are three hundred years old, easily costing more than our combined college funds, don’t you d—OH GOD YOU ACTUALLY DID IT!’
>And a bunch of other bullshit like that
>Finding this bottle soon empty as well, you idly look for a place to chuck the empty sumbitch
>A tiny pair of hands grabs at your forearm and tries to tug you away
>Your relatives—no, wait, soon-to-be relatives—voice comes in again, but it’s all static at this point
>Your eyes scan over the church grounds, all the way from the snow-covered playground to the surrounding trees, but they eventually settle on the church
>Proud and tall does the building stand, the sunset showing just behind the treeline beyond it
>You toss the empty bottle over your shoulder and put a shivering hand on Twilight’s head
>She’s silenced almost immediately, and you can see her eyes go slightly wide in your peripherals
“Hush.”
>Gently, yet firmly, you turn her head to the large building where well over a hundred and fifty people are seated
>You two stare in through the distant windows and see the rows of lined men in suits and women in their outrageously-priced dresses
“They’re about to start the wedding.”
>She tilts her head
>”How do you know?”
>...And now it’s time for you to tilt your head
>Removing your shivering hand, you bite off the other bottle’s cork before chugging
>You shrug once done
“I just do; listen to how the music’s stopped.”
>”Wait, you can’t be serious.”
>You begin to trudge off to the large shack about thirty feet off, your legs wrapt up to the thigh in the thick snow
>”Anon, we gotta’ go, we gotta’ go!”
>Her voice is full of panic as you hear her run in circles
>”Oh no, oh no, we’re so dead!”
>You raise a brow but don’t dare to turn your hair
>Instead you wave her over and call out over your shoulder
“You’re the groom’s sister, fuck all is gonna’ happen.”
>”And you’re the bride’s brother!”
>You grimace at that and find cause to chug again from the bottle
>It’s unsettling how light this thing is getting…
>With a bash, the door to the decrepit and gasoline-smelling place is brought to light
>And, just before you, you see an old, if not useable something
>A very, very useable something
“Hey, Twilight, gimme’ a hand with this!
>...
>......
>This little shit…
“I was perfectly warm.”
>”Your hands were blue and you were completely numb to touch.”
“But I was warm on this inside.”
>”Your brain mistakes the alcohol—”
“It’s on the inside what really matters!”
>She tightens the scarf around your neck as you rev up the engine, hoping it doesn’t stall for the uptenth time
>You would’ve already been out of here if she didn’t insist on getting you both properly dressed for the cold
>And by that you mean that she ran back inside to grab clothes while you drunkenly fumbled with the discovery, making sure everything was in working order
>Or at least looked in working order
>Or at least was there
>A few parts were missing, like the break, but fuck that noise
>”I hate you.”
“Get in line, shitlord.”
>Another try at revving the engine after another putter
>”Ugh, we’re so dead when they catch us…”
>She slumps onto your back and cradles her head with her hands
>You raise a brow
“You think they care?”
>No response
“Well, they don’t.”
>Another putter
“Like how ya’ said Shining never told you anything…”
>Another putter
>Another sniffle from the girl
“Candy told me shit.”
>Another putter
“Just kept talking about how things were going to get better.”
>Another putter
>Another sniffle from the girl
“Talking about how… how she was gonna’ get us out of that fucking apartment, get me off my job and back to finish high school, how she was gonna’ make it all right.”
>The engine comes to life with a low rumble
>The girl’s sniffles are muffled by the engine’s murmur
>You give the snowmobile a few preparatory revs before placing the only serviceable helmet on her little head
“What a bunch of fucking bullshit.”
>You push down on the throttle and nearly fall off to the side, the sheer force of the machine catching you off guard
>You honestly expected this thing to make like a ‘peaceful refuge’ and explode your ass into a fine mist, but the thing’s actually handling beautifully!
>So beautifully, in fact, that you nearly ram into the first obstacle, one misplaced tree
>Doing a tight turn and nearly topping the thing over as you try to gather your bearing, you hear a small something
>A small giggle from behind
>”You good?”
>That’s…
>That’s a good question
>You shrug before shaking your head while settling back onto the controls, Twilight’s thin arms wrapping around your chest as you do so
“Hold on there, little shit.”
>You’re not sure which feels better
>The powerful engine below you as you race through the snow, or the fact that you got Twilight to giggle.
>...
>......
>What…?
>It’s cold
>You can’t move
>It’s cold and you can’t move
>Shit
>...
>Maybe this is all a dream?
>Maybe you’ll wake up in a moment?
>...
>......
>It’s cold and you can’t move
“Eugh, fuck me.”
>Groaning, you’re surprised to feel your hands completely numb; all senses gone beyond the forearm
>That can’t be good
>Slowly forcing your prone body up with your forearms, you notice that you’re covered completely in snow
>Blinking the snow out of your eyes, you make to stand
>Your legs shoot out from under you at your first attempt
>And so do they upon the seventh
>And twelfth
>Groaning, you look about to try and see if there’s anything that could help
>To your right…
>A wooden wall
>To your left…
>Treeline, a small shack just in front of it
>And behind…
>A flight of stairs, of which bears a small trail of red snow
>Two bottles lay beside you in the snow, one empty and another full
>W-what?
>Blinking, you just settle yourself down in the snow in a sitting position, knowing full well you’re not getting up as is
>You reach out and try to grasp the bottle, but your hands are unresponsive
>You try to call out for someone, but you realize that they’re still all in the church
>And the music’s just stopped
>Sighing, you watch your own breath for a while
>You wonder if they’ll do to Candy what they did to mother, those haves?
>Those rich cunts
>Wonder how long this rich asshole will play nice with Candy before becoming bored and throwing your life back into chaos?
>Wonder—
>Ah, wait…
>Everything’s warm
>You’re lying back in the snow now
>Everything’s warm
>Everything’s comfy
>You could get used to this
>With a smile do you give out one last sigh as you hear the distant echoes of Candy’s words in your mind
>She would always say these to you every night before bed, without fail, without a drip of uncertainty in her voice
>”We’ll make it through this, Anon. I love you.”