It was a cold, foggy November day; the clouds were grey and opaque and covered the morning sky. And in a small house, on a small street, in a small town, a young girl just budding into her adult life, stood with her mother, whom she so resembled.

"Emma, you don't you dare talk to your mother like that!"

Emma took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was hard to make a point of reason with her mother when the topic came to her boyfriend, who, in her opinion, was young enough to date Emma herself. "Mother, he doesn't love you. He is just using you for house and home, can't you see that? He is a pig!"

"I've had enough of that young lady. You go to your room right now!"

"No thanks." Emma huffed under her breath; she walked briskly through the hall and out the front door, without even grabbing her coat, her mother's protesting voice calling behind her.

She made her way up the street, her tennis shoes crunching into the five inches of snow packed onto the ground. She turned the corner as she got to it, and ran her fingers atop the snow covered wall. "She just doesn't understand." She spoke to herself, "Freddie is just a pig. She wouldn't be taking his side if she saw him with that bottle blonde the other day."

It was true, the twenty something girl that her mother's boyfriend had his arms snaked around was so different then her mother and herself. The obvious unnatural blonde of her hair was a large contrast to the red-brown messy hair of her lineage. Emma had to pull hers into an unkempt bun just to manage it every day. The frisky blonde's bright blue eyes held lust and mischief as she looked at Freddie, her acrylic nails scratching at his chest in eager waiting.

Emma scrunched her nose up, if she had not gone to that coffee shop that day, she would have never seen, with her own green eyes, that what she suspected was true; Freddie was cheating on her mother. She had known it long enough, why would a young handsome Italian man barely into his twenties want with her forty-something mother? All the signs were there. He lied, he borrowed what little money her mother had, and he was out at all hours of the night.

The blonde's painted face was void of flaws, unlike the dusting of freckles her mother had, and, had passed to her. Emma brought to mind the phrase "blinded by love" but then again, Freddie did not love her mother. And her mother, though she did not realize it, did not love Freddie.

Emma sighed, her lungs taking in the crisp winter air, her jeans were now stiff from the cold, and the bottoms were wet from the snow. Her tee shirt breathed the cold air right through, barely enough to block the wind chill. Her lips were losing color, and her fingertips were turning red. But, the cold never bothered her. She welcomed it like an old friend.

She often drew stares from people in their cars, why wouldn't she? A young woman walking in the snow in nothing that said "I'm warm". By the time she got around the block, and back to her house, she had cooled off. Walking, she considered, was the second best way for her to clear her mind. She hopped the old wooden fence to her back yard, and walked up to the work shed. She yanked the door, fighting against the snow to pull it open. Finally, it opened with a rusty groan. She slipped inside and grabbed what she wanted off the shelf, slinging it over her back.

She found the target stand, and hefted it out of the shed and dragged it through the snow, trying to find the best place to set up. She picked a spot a few yards out from the wood fence, and the stack of fire wood they used to power the old stove. She set up her stand, taking a few minutes to bury the legs in the snow, and walked a few paces back. She took a deep breath, and planted her feet squarely into the snow. She pulled an arrow from her quiver, and lined it up in her bow. She took another breath, pulled it back, and released. She hit somewhere along the outside of her makeshift target.

She learned archery back in summer camp, and had taken to it quite fondly. She wasn't excellent at it, but she quite often hit the target, though not the bull's eye. She was ecstatic to find she was able to go to summer camp. Her mother would have never been able to afford such a venture, but luckily enough for Emma; she was old enough to acquire the position of assistant councilor. She had a summer away from home for free! It was the highlight of her life, ever since Freddie came into the picture anyway.

She continuously drew, and fired into the target, hitting various spaces. It had been two years of this man ruining her family's lives. Emma had had quite enough of it; she wanted her mother to see through other eyes just what was happening to her, though some people just can't be helped. She fingered another arrow into her bow. She pulled back, and took a deep breath of cold air. Her full eyebrows furrowed together as she concentrated on the bulls eye. Her fingers slipped to release.

Suddenly, a figure in blue caught her eye just beyond the target, and she shifted in surprise. The arrow sailed past the target and into the wood of the fence. Emma was breathing heavily now, though no one was around, she swore she saw someone perched upon the firewood pile. Though, if that were the case, her arrow would have undoubtedly struck them right in the middle of their face.

Her eyes shifted around, was there someone here? No, she figured, that couldn't be the case. She wouldn't let herself believe that someone was creeping around her home; times were bad enough as it is. She took another breath, just as a black sedan was pulling into the driveway. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing Freddie in the driver's seat. She huffed; no way her mother didn't realize that he had been keeping things from her. How else could he afford the nice car? "What do you want with her anyways?" Emma asked herself. Freddie was obviously well off, Emma often heard him arguing with his own parent's on his phone. They had cut him off and left him out to hang, on account of him being a lazy good-for-nothing. Why he didn't find someone with money to leech off of, she wondered. But then again, that was probably what the blonde was for. He needed someone to mooch from while he found the proper target. "What a douche." She commented.

Emma turned to her target as Freddie started to shift around, putting on some cologne, in an obvious attempt to hide the expensive Chanel perfume rubbed off from his latest score. Emma drew another arrow, and fired.

Her mother didn't tell Freddie what had happened, no one mentioned it. Freddie knew Emma had problems with him, and he thrived on it. He picked fights with her and undermined her often. Emma knew that was one of the reasons her mother didn't go to him with the fight they had. The other, she hoped, was that because her mom knew that there was a chance that Emma was right.

Emma ate lunch in her room, flipping through an old book from her childhood. It was about Santa Claus, coming to bring all girls and boys presents in the night. A smile tugged at her lips, her favorite time of year was approaching, Christmas time. Though it wasn't for the reason most kids liked Christmas. She didn't get any presents, and they didn't put up a tree or hang lights. They couldn't afford such things.

Emma liked Christmas time best of all, because of the magic that seemed to be all around her. Everyone was at peace, loved and respected one another. Then, there was Santa Claus. She loved him as a child, and wrote to him more than once a year, often asking him how he was, if he needed any help, and on more than one occasion she tried to send him and his elves gifts to help them, or keep them full throughout the year. And she never forgot to send him a Christmas present of his own. When she was told he wasn't real it crushed her. She wished all the time she still believed in him, and she often tried to. It was the greatest part of her childhood she could remember.

She touched the picture of Santa lovingly, imagining his beard was as soft as clouds. A chuckle was heard in her doorway. She looked up, seeing Freddie's ugly sneer. "Aren't you a little too old for that crap?"

"Aren't you a little too young for my mother?" Emma shot back, and closed the book, hiding it under her pillow.

Freddie snorted, and slowly stalked into the room; Emma shifted and scooted back against her headboard. "I would appreciate it if you got out of my room."

"Sorry, I am the adult here, and me and your mother agreed I have as much right as she." He laughed and sat on her bed.

"Your mother and I." Emma corrected, pulling her knees up to her chest.

"What?" Freddie asked with a confused look on his pointed face.

"Your mother and I. Not me and your mother." Emma repeated.

Freddie sneered, and raised his hand to her. The windows panes rattled as snow and wind pounded on the outside. "Don't you dare correct me!"

Emma stood up on her bed, straight and tall. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare! I am so tired of don't you dare!" Freddie's hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her down to him, and Emma fell. Freddie's dry cracked hand stroked her face.

"I'm not too young for you, am I?" he snickered.

Emma pushed away from him, "You're disgusting."

Freddie laughed, "Just remember, I'm in control here, and there's nothing you can do about it. Your mother and I are in love."

Emma grabbed her book from under her pillow and rushed out of the room. Freddie laughed as he slithered out of her bed.

Dinner was quiet, not one of them talked as snow fell silently outside. Emma pushed peas around on her plate. Soon, she hoped, she would be able to escape this place, this man who has overpowered her life. At least she would be able to escape the table. "May I be excused?"

"You haven't eaten all of your food yet." Her mother said in a quiet tone. She pushed her short messy hair behind her ear and continued to stare at her plate

"You heard your mother Emma," Freddie said, "You aren't going anywhere."

Emma glanced at Freddie, and then to her mother, who still was not looking at her. She ate the rest of her peas and got up, walking quickly out of the room and putting her plate into the sink. She walked towards the door, pulling on her coat as she opened it to go outside.

She breathed in the cool winter air, and the snow felt gently on her face. She started walking up the street on an evening walk, a habit she had made a long time ago, to help clear her head before she went to sleep. Her shoes crunched through the snow as she made her way around the block. As usual, her fingers found the short wall that lined the yards of people's homes. She ran the tips of her fingers along the top, dragging the snow along with her. As she turned the corner to the opposite side of the block, she looked both ways and crossed the street. The small park on the other side comforted her like a home.

She sat upon one of the swings; the chains creaked with her weight. She stared out at the open field of untouched snow. The white pale ground sparkled and shone with a glittering light, though, there were no lights around for its surface to reflect. The wind stopped blowing, and the snow fell quietly and softly down to blanket the shimmering ground, quite possibly the most beautiful sight Emma had ever seen.

She gripped the chains, and looked out in a daydream at the wonderland. Every night she came here, and every night the snow quieted, and the ground glittered, as if just for her. She shifted her weight and began to pump her legs, starting to swing back and forth. She tried harder and harder, and the swing brought her higher and higher. She closed her eyes and willed herself to go higher and farther, as if she could swing so high the wind would lift her up and take her away.

As she reached the highest peak, the wind suddenly blew and sent snow flying through the air, tangling in her hair, and nearly undoing her bun. She dragged her legs on the ground and came to a stop. She opened her eyes slowly. "Thanks, but I don't think it will work." She said to the wind. She glanced up, and noticed a person standing in the middle of the untouched snow. She shook her head, and the figure was gone. There were no prints in the snow. Emma was alone.

That night, Emma dreamed. She was being chased, by small dark creatures, she ran down the street and into her home. It was dark, and empty. She somehow knew that the things had taken her family, and no one was there to save her. The things pounded at the door, and the wood splintered. Emma raced down the hall as the door started to break apart. She turned the corner, and started to head up the stairs towards her room. She suddenly stopped. On the ceiling of the upstairs hall, coming from her room, was a light blue shimmering light, it waved, beckoning her to follow it. Suddenly she heard the creatures running down the hall, she saw them turn the corner, and she unfroze, continuing up the stairs with the dark things right on her heels. She rushed down the hall, her door cracked open and the light shining through, reaching out to her. She pushed it open, and saw the figure floating in the sky. She ran to her bed and jumped on it, pushing off the foot board with all her might as the demons of dark reached for her ankles.

Everything froze. The creatures stopped in their place as the blue light engulfed her room. Even she stopped in midair. The figure, in which the light was emitting, suddenly became clear. A young man with white hair and ice blue eyes, his features seemed to sparkle like the snow. He smiled at her, and his laughter came to her mind, and he reached to her. Her arm was already out stretched, reaching for him, and his hand closed around hers.