Alone at Winter

Closer

Alex sat in the snow beside Champion's body, his face was now emotionless. He looked onward at the dog who had once saved him; he became weaker with every passing second spent in the snow. The blood was still trailing down his body, the stings no longer bothered him at this point. He attempted to stand but his leg would give out after putting even a margin of weight on it. He flinches at the pain as he eventually stood again on his feet. He threw the gun to the snow, silent as ever, he started limping out the forest.

He felt the wounds tear and rip with every movement of his body, the pain was immense and he had no idea whether or not the blood loss would kill him or the cold. At this point he didn't care for what might happen to him in the near future, the shivers became a natural feeling for him. The flow of blood was something that he should have never been used to feeling but after all this time, it's something that he's grown to know the feeling of. But he knew he was very slowly getting closer to his family.

He soon came across another abandoned town left behind after the blizzard, he walked passed many houses that were destroyed and even infested by the snow. Somehow his weak body continued to carry him through the town, limping with pain for every new step forward. The scars on his face made him since in pain with every slight touch of fallen snow landing in them, he never wanted anything more than to die at this moment. But he wasn't prepared to give up on his family, after all he had been through, he wasn't giving up now. Especially after today.

His stomach growled in pain as he left the town behind, the different variations of pain were driving him insane and now he had no-one by his side. Without realising it he stepped on some wood that was placed in the snow, when he took a step back he realised it was a hand made cross with nails poorly inserted in the wood. A grave just outside of a town. This made him thought that there was someone else out there so with whatever strength he had left he yet out a loud scream for help, no answer.

After the straining of the vocal chords, he knelt down to investigate the small wooden cross. The cuts in his knees pierced the snow sending a shockwave of pain through his body. After opening his eyes from the pain he noticed some carving on the wood. He looked closer and closer at the cross and he suddenly fell backwards out of breath. The cross read 'Alex Richards'. Alex held his head in his hands as he repeated the same word over and over as he screamed.

"No, no, no!" He looked at the cross as tears soon covered his face.

"I'm not dead, I'm not dead!" He began screaming now. The cross only seemed to become larger as Alex fell more on the snow.

"I'm still here, I'm still here!" His cries echoed in his brain, his voice fading with each scream.

"I'm closer now, I'm closer now." His screams faded into normal speech, slightly jittered and with fear.

"Save me, please." Alex closed his eyes as his words faded in his mind, he placed his head against the cross that bared his name.

"I'm still here. Daddy's still here. Your husband is still here." He talked to the cross as if it was Oscar and Anne, he believed that it was them that placed the cross here. He held the cross as he cried.

"I'm alive." Alex said as he looked at the cross.

"Do you fucking hear me!" He yelled at the cross before ripping from the deep snow and throwing it away from him. He let out a soft whimper as he laid in the snow, completely alone again. He looked onward into the white abyss in front of him, tears swarming the entirety of his face. He smiled and began to quietly laugh. His face contorting suddenly.

He laughed as he stood to his feet, he began walking forward into the white mystery ahead of him. Still laughing. His laugh became louder as he stepped further forward. He got out his pocket knife and opened it as he continued laughing and walking. He stopped dead in his tracks, he looked the blade up and down. His laugh suddenly gone and turned into silence. He rolled up the torn sleeves he was wearing and put the blade to the skin of his wrist. He used quick movements on himself, only flinching slightly. The cuts opened with every stroke.

The blade pierced his skin as the tears, again, welled on his face. The blood flowing down his wrist and on the white floor, creating a shade of red in the bleached snow. His face was now expressionless, no emotion was being conveyed while the blade slid across his wrists with varying speeds. The pocket knife was now a sight of deep red that Alex would never be able to distinguish. The knife continued up his arm, scarring like the dogs did. Except, he wanted it to happen this time. His arm became numb after a few minutes of cutting.

Suddenly it hit him of what he was doing do himself, his face was filled back with an abundance of emotion. He shouted in pain as he threw the knife to the floor. His face was now red and covered in cuts as the pain from his arm hit him suddenly. He knew as he stood there shaking in the snow that he was closer to ending his own life than he was closer to regaining his old life. He knew he was getting close to civilization, but he didn't know if he would make it. With all the blood loss getting to his head, he collapsed on the floor.

"Alex?"

"It's time to go."