Ice Cold: Prologue

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-I'm Ice Cold, but in the right hands I'll melt-

December 14th

Ice cold is what he is. Frozen in time, stuck within the past and unable to move within the present. Numb is the only emotion he holds as he mentally rocks himself back and forth upon the mountain of snow he's laid himself on. 

His bare feet paint the, plain, white snow a dark shade of crimson red and his tears melt away the snow that his head rests on as a pillow, freezing himself half to death. His once tanned skin being as pale as the snow itself, the dirt that was once gathered on his body, now washed away with the cold, wet, substance that he lays on. 

Blue eyes stare lifelessly at the dark shadows that don't dare look his way but walk on, his dry lips, trembling and messed up words pleading for help. Though; sadly, none comes his way, for no one even bothers to listen.

'Do I deserve this?' He'd question himself repeatedly, his own answers always being a simple; 'yes.'

More and more people turn a blind-eye to the dying, starving seventeen year old before them, yet he doesn't get mad, or angry at them for doing so. All he does is smile their way and drift his gaze onto the next passing pedestrians.

"This is your punishment," he'd replay the male's words who'd done this to him. "You'll go to Hell if you don't sort your life out." He didn't want to go to Hell, not at all, so he knew he needed this. "The Lord has given you another chance to go through the gates of Heaven, if only you'd do as he says." And he would. He'd go through all of this to wipe away his forbidden sins, he'd do this with no turning back. "Don't come back until you've cleansed your sins, only then will you be forgiven."

The crispy snow crunches under his body-weight, him being used to the noise and ignoring it while he shifts into a more, if possible, comfortable position. By this time of night only the rare people would be spotted, pondering past him. Whether it'd be the young or old couple, bickering teenagers, or other's like him rooting around for a place to stay.

Other's like him were not rare, there were always a variety of them wandering the lonesome streets but he knew, and could easily tell, none of them had the same story like him to tell. Many zig zagged side-to-side along the pathway past him, others snatching and swigging green glasses of beer from one another, not caring about the germs. It disgusted the young seventeen year old, but also made him fearful of his own future; the future being him ending up like those ruthless beings.

The darkened sky holding the crescent moon high, brought the only light the boy could use to see, but with the amount of time he's spent in the darkness, his eyes had been able to adjust to the dark, enabling him to see. 

His back, pushed back against the sidewalks wall, aches from the horrid position he's in. His neck being stiff from where he'd been like this for far too long. Pins and needles shot through his purple hands, the skinny jeans and baggy white, dirtied grey, top is soaked from the melting snow and sticking annoyingly to his sensitive skin.

A monstrous growl erupts from his empty stomach, but nothing was a shock to the brunette, for the noise comes near enough every hour of the day. Swallowing nothing but his own, drying up, saliva, the boy whimpered in starvation for food. His breathing shallow and uneven, eyes blurred; they struggle to stay focused and became extremely heavy.

The wind howled in his face so he was unable to sleep through the coldness, it all being too much for his trembling body, keeping him, painfully, awake. If only the weather would be nice to him, become his friend, helper. If only he had friends, maybe friends could save him from this painful life he's been living for the past year. 

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