The Coldest Day

I officially gave in to the coldest day of the coldest year. I had been staying up here for so long, I forgot what it was actually like to even stand.  Frankly, I didn’t care who knew that I had given in, as long as they saw my eyes peeking through the slit I left when I wrapped my scarf around my face. I made my way down from the attic and past my father who lie passed out with a bottle of rum in his right hand. His left hand had been stuffed in his crotch as it always was, it seems as though it was stuck in that position since I was born, except for the day he took my thirteen year old innocence. Except for any of the times he had raped me.

I wrapped my white scarf around my face a neck twice; enough to hide my identity. My hair hadn’t been combed since the last time I showered. I hadn’t washed my body since the last time I stood, and as I said earlier, I forgot how to stand. My days passed me slowly because all I did was stare and sleep. My mouth was hot from not speaking and my bones were sore from not moving. I used a bucket as the bathroom and old news papers for toilet tissue so I didn’t have to go far. And when it would fill up, I would toss it out of the window into the backyard; no one goes back there anyway.

I put on my white coat, which hung from my bones so heavy I thought I would drop. The turn of the whole situation is that I went to the attic to look for my self, you know, my childhood. But in that same attic, I lost myself; I sat down and became so comfortable, I never wanted to leave again.

I slowly crept down the steps, gripping the banister so the wind wouldn’t carry me off of my feet. As it smacked my face, I let a tear fall. I wasn’t safe, not even out of the house. I tied my hood tight around my chin and crinkled my nose. The wool from the scarf had started to dig into my face and annoy me. I looked down at my pale hands. I began to cry. I did not recognize my skin. It had faded and melted. I was a skeleton. The wind smacked me again, but only this time while I was walking over a patch of ice and it was hard enough to knock me down. I hit the ground with so much force; I didn’t even try to get back on my feet. I just lie there. I stayed in the very position I fell in and cried. It was dark and eerie. I was certain no one heard my cry. So some more, I just lie there. For once in my life I felt I belonged. It was cold, dark and lonely, but I belonged. I lie there, on that very ice until it was ice no more. I scrabbled to my feet with one hand. The other was so numb; too numb to move. I slowly and carefully moved into the light that leaked out from my living room window and held up my arm. My wrist was purple and swollen three times its size. I grinned and climbed back up to my porch, I was almost certain I sprang it.

I saw my reflection in the window next to the door as I went to turn the knob. I was bony and my lips where a violet purple. I cuffed my good hand and scooped up as much snow as I could from the ledge and shoved it in my mouth. This was the best thing I had eaten in weeks. I had a few crackers that I found in the attic, but this snow was so fresh and crisp. I scooped another and another until I urinated on myself. My belly had puffed up because I was so full.

 I walked past my father who lie passed out with, still, a bottle of rum in his right hand and his left hand tucked away. I spit in his rum as slick as a snake and crept away to the shower. I tried to hurry and get out but the water felt so good to me, I must’ve been in there for an hour.

 When I got out of the shower, my father was sitting Indian style in front of the door grinning. He held in rum in one had and played with his self with the other. He didn’t know where I was for a while and now that I made my self visible, he wanted me. He missed me. He smelled me. He struggled to climb to his feet. I was too weak to run, so I walked past him, but I knew he would catch up. When he did, I grabbed his rum and smacked him with the bottle. It broke and he grinned. He said some things to me that night but I don’t remember what and I wouldn’t let him finish anyway. I shoved the point of the broken bottle into his neck then his temple. He grabbed me by my neck and we fell together. I was too weak to struggle. He got hold of my wrist to try to gain stability but I knew he would die soon enough. Before he could smell me or miss me anymore, I would place him out of his misery. I stuck the point in the back of his neck and twisted it. Suddenly, everything was mute.

I climbed back in the shower and cleaned my self up. I went up to the attic. His spirit would find me soon but I still hid from it. He was HIV positive so it was only a matter of time. My wrist was the least of my worries.