The cold. That's all you've ever felt. As well as for the felling of loneliness and pain.
You were running through a snowy forest, your long (h/c) swaying to the sides, running from your monster of a father. Your father has abused you since your mom died, you were around 3 months old when it happened. Your 6 year old body was starting to get tired of running for days. (Somehow the little girl had a ton of stamina.) Starting to slow down, you were looking for some kind of shelter, because your raged clothes did not help.
Because you were looking to the sides, you didn't bother to look forward. And because of that you bumped into someone. You looked up to see a tall man. The tall man had a tannish trench coat, a pinkish scarf, silvery-blond hair and violet eyes.
"Are you okay little one?" the man asked in a Russian accent (obviously).
"Yes I am," you responded in a monotone voice. But in reality you were definitely NOT fine.
"It doesn't look like it," the man said as he cr...