vivre wakes up naked in a castle with no memory of how she got there.
she tries to find her way out, with the help of a man named Raphael. except it looks like there may be no way out. and Raphael may not be have the most friendly of intentions.
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The midnight train is late.
Fat, wet snowflakes flurry in spirals. The frostbitten air bites at peoples cheeks and noses, bruising them red. Lampposts flicker. Only eight people, all college students going home for the holidays, stay standing. They huddle in their winter coats, shivering and silent.
Except for Tessa White.
With another reapplied layer of Tilbury Pillow Talk Lip Gloss, she smacks her lips. "With all the money the government steals from us, you'd think they'd have faster trains. Lincoln, we've been standing here forever! It's so cold that my fucking fingers are going to snap off."
"Give your hands to me," Lincoln Dane laughs, his breath coming out as puffs of hot air. "I'll warm them up for you."
Tessa wears crocodile leather boots and her boyfriend's coat (she forgot hers at home). Her hair, a series of brown-blonde ombre waves, reaches her waist. When she speaks, her voice has a permanent whine. She likes the way the people on the train station people glare at her, probably jealous of her relationship and looks.
Lincoln, his college's star football player, has a pair of jeans and his football jersey. He's freezing, but he pretends like he isn't.
"I don't want your hands," Tessa goes on her toes. "Give me your lips instead."
He swerves her. "You know I hate the lip gunk. Why'd you have to apply so many layers?"
"This cost seventy-five dollars! I spent it just for you!" She pouts and looks away. "If you don't want to kiss, just say so."
As Lincoln reassures his girlfriend, the train appears. At a sluggish pace, it chugs to a stop at the station. The doors pause, as if hesitant to let in the cold air, then swish open to reveal twenty-six exhausted passengers. Lincoln and Tessa squirm inside before anybody can begin to leave.
Snow boots squeak on the linoleum floor. A muffled speaker announces warns everybody to step away from the doors, first in English, then Dutch, then French and finally, Spanish. The cart smells like peppermint body spray and dried mud.
Six people left. Eight people get on.
How many people are in the train?
Lincoln's friends, a trio of college athletes, are drunkenly singing Jingle Bell Rock at the top of their voices. The couple joins them, greeting each other with laughter and handshakes. As Tessa pulls off her wool scarf, she gives the train cart a cursory glance.
( in the shadows, a court of people play with cards )
Tessa spots a mess of orange hair.
Vivre Pevensie's ginger girls are wet and pressing against her freckled cheeks. She's Lincoln's ex-girlfriend, a desperate, attention-seeking slut who managed to cling to him for two years before Tessa came along. Vivre clutches her phone, thumbs texting away rapidly. She looks miserable.
