Savin' Me
By Inuyoshie
Chapter Four: Frostbite
"Stella! What is this? You're not on the honor roll this quarter! You fucking retard, how could you not make it?"
It used to hurt. Now it doesn't.
"I shell out hundreds of dollars for you to go to this fancy private school and this is how you reward me? We're not that well off you know! Your father didn't leave us with that much!"
She didn't used to hate him. Now that he was dead, everything was his fault.
"Do you hear me? Answer me!"
"Yes," Stella Royes replied dully. Her mother, Miss Lynn Royes snorted, her cold blue eyes flicking between Stella's report card and the girl.
"Fix it. I don't care what you have to do, just fix it." Lynn snarled.
"Yes ma'am," Stella replied dully, walking to the stairwell.
"Where are you going? Take off your coat this instant," Lynn barked. Stella nodded, silently discarding a slightly worn looking black jacket. Her father had bought it for her, before he died. It had been too large on her then. Now it barely fit. Stella's pale hands reached to put the coat on a hanger and her pristine sweater slipped, showing an angry red line… Stella's eyes widened and she pulled her hand down, tugging the sleeve down. Lynn, now having Stella cornered, pulled out an envelope. Stella paled slightly. It was the electric bill.
Never mind the fact that Stella went to one of the best schools in the state, which included a four year college education in its program. Never mind the fact that Lynn had a lovely, cushy job as a secretary for some CEO downtown. Never mind the fact that Stella barely went on the TV, owned no video games and didn't use her phone very often. Never mind the fact that Lynn was the one who used more appliances than Stella, the high bills were all her fault.
Stella's father's gambling habits were her fault.
Stella's father's death was her fault.
Stella's bad grades were her fault.
The death of Stella's best friend Ester was her fault.
Everything.
Every damn thing.
Stella felt sick as she listened to Lynn rant about the finances. Her stomach coiled up in a small ball, and her vision blurred from the onslaught of negative thoughts streaming through. She wanted to make Lynn shut up. She wanted everything to be quiet. She wanted to be alone.
Stella walked away.
"Don't you walk away from me you stupid little cunt!" Lynn screamed. Stella ignored her, running upstairs into her room, and closing the door. Stella locked it three times, using two locks her mother didn't know about yet.
Stella's room was fairly ordinary. It was large, had a fluffy beige carpet and a cranberry coloured bedspread. Some posters hung on the walls, a few paintings she had done in art class, and a poster for a band she liked. Several bookshelves lined with books stood against a wall. In a far corner was Stella's computer, with a squishy chair in front of it. Her cat Lynx lay on the chair, sleeping. Pale sunlight streamed in through the large windows next to her bed, illuminating the lace trim of her pillows.
All of this was ignored. Stella fumbled under her bed, pulling out a cedar box. It smelled strongly of cigars, and her father's aftershave. Inside the box was a picture of her father, and of Ester, and an old fashioned shaving blade. Stella ran her long pale fingers over the blade's wooden handle, flipping it open with a satisfying swish. The edge was quiet sharp, Stella sharpened it compulsively. Stella stared at her arm, pushing the sleeve up.
She started cutting for the same reason several other people do- a part of her wanted someone to know what she was going through. The earlier cuts were deep, but high up on her wrist, harder to hide. But soon, it turned into something else. Every time the cold metal lay on her skin, her heart rate sped up. Every time she flicked her wrist, a line of red drew across her pale skin, looking oddly beautiful, and a rush of chemicals exploded through her blood, giving a sort of thrill. It was possibly the same rush felt during the Strangling Game played by young teens these days, only this one was artistic. Stella was very careful about it, keeping gauze on hand at all times, and being careful to eliminate all signs of evidence. Stella wanted everything to be quiet. She wanted to die. However, she wasn't going to do it by cutting herself, that was an unpleasant and showy way to die. Too slow. Stella's method of choice would be poisoning, but ever since her guidance councilor had seen Stella's earlier cuts and called Lynn about them, Lynn had locked up the medicine cabinet. After all, if Stella died, that would look bad on Lynn's parenting skills. Stella snorted with contempt, setting the bloodied blade aside. She needed some air. Carefully cleaning her tools, Stella pulled on her boots and a sweater, before sneaking down the stairs. Luckily, Lynn was listening to her iPod and reading a catalogue, so Stella was able to sneak out.
Stella began running. She ran through snow, not ice, being lucky enough to live a few blocks away from an empty plot of land. Come summer, a house would be erected, but until then Stella dashed through the snow, stopping when she came to a small river that wound through town.
Drowning was the other solution.
Stella wasn't going to do it right away. She'd chicken out as soon as she felt the cold water close above her head. But around January, after finals, she'd do it. She'd come straight to this spot after school, and get in the water, and take a nap. And never wake up.
For the time being, Stella decided on a different approach. She found her favourite snow bank and lay down on it. She stared up at the sky thoughtfully. The air smelled like snow. The sky was a thick, monotonous grey. Perhaps a few patches of translucent clouds shuddered here and there, but the sky was mainly thick. Little specks of snow began to meander down, and Stella smiled slightly, taking off her boots and socks. She wiggled her bare toes in the snow, embracing the burning feeling that followed. Her limbs were already feeling like pins were pricking them. Stella settled. As she was settling, her arm bumped something.
Curious, Stella moved her arm again. The thing was still here. Stella stuck her bare hand into the snow, feeling. It was solid… kinda round… a branch maybe? Curious, Stella pulled at it. No, it was too thick to be a branch… to heavy… to flesh like. After a few tugs, Stella saw what she was tugging on. It was an arm.
Quickly, Stella began brushing snow away. Sure enough, she was beginning to uncover features. Feeling like an archeologist, Stella found shoulders, and a face. It was a man, with curly blackish brown hair, and a goatee. The man's lips were blue. Stella scowled. She wasn't going to cause another person to die.
"Hey, mister," she remarked softly. "Wake up,"
The man twitched, but made no other move.
"Mister, wake up!" she insisted, brushing off more snow. "Mister… MISTER!" Getting annoyed, Stella scanned her mind for a way to wake him up. Well, theoretically blocking off airflow would wake someone up… but what if she smothered him? Stella sighed and reached forward, pinching the man's nose shut. She then looked around for a branch with which to poke the man.
"Nnn…" a nasal groan came from the man. Stella stared at him. His eyes were open, and on her, a haunting grey colour. "What are you doing?"
Stella pulled her hand away, and the man rubbed his red nose. "Ow," he muttered.
"Sorry," Stella muttered, sitting lotus style next to the man. The man shuddered, and stared down at himself with an air of disgust.
"Snow…? This makes… no sense. Gah, I'm tired," he muttered, yawning.
"You can't go back to sleep," Stella insisted suddenly, her eyes widening. "You'll die. Hypothermia isn't a good way to go,"
"You'd know," the man remarked. Stella's eyes widened. How could he know? Was this God telling her not to kill herself? "I mean, you have no shoes on," Oh. He was just noticing something. Stella sighed softly.
"That's because I don't like shoes," Stella lied calmly.
"Oh,' the man shrugged. "Fair enough."
"Are you homeless?" Stella asked suddenly. The man blinked, thinking.
"I don't know… perhaps…" he mused.
"Do you have a bed?" Stella asked him sharply. The man shook his head. Impulsively, Stella stood up and put her boots on. "Come with me,"
"Huh?" the man frowned as Stella tugged on his sleeve. "What…"
"You're coming to my house, at least to have some hot chocolate," Stella insisted. Something in her just… his eyes looked so sad. The man shrugged and stood up, lumbering behind Stella as she led him across the snowy field. "What's your name?"
"Stark Coyote," the man replied lazily.
"Coyote? That's an interesting last name," Stella remarked. "I'm Stella Royes,"
"Hm. Charmed," Stark remarked distractedly. Stella tugged Stark along, back the way she came. It didn't occur to her what Lynn may say until Stella was halfway inside the building.
Honestly?
Stella didn't care about anything anymore. Just making sure this man didn't die. Something about him just…
"You sit here," Stella remarked, ushering Stark over to a couch. Before he sat down however, Lynn stormed in.
"What is this?" she demanded in a more refined manner than usual.
"I found him. His name is Stark. He almost died." Stella replied blankly.
"You picked up some trash off the streets?" Lynn fumed, dropping her polite, motherly persona instantly. Stella frowned, her eyes flashing slightly.
"If we kick him out, he will die. Would you like that, Mother?" Stella asked darkly. Lynn paled, not used to Stella actually saying something of meaning to her. "How would your church friends like that? Would you be able to sleep at night?"
Lynn narrowed her eyes.
"You…" she hissed, sending Stark a glare. "Get him out of those clothes; I don't want him ruining my furniture,"
Stella nodded, running upstairs to get some clothes. It was hard to be fast, because her limbs burned, a telltale sign of frostbite. Stella wiggled her toes quickly to make the feeling go away. She grabbed some of her father's old clothes and handed them to Stark. "If you want to change in the bathroom, it's over there," she remarked softly. "I'll be back,"
A few minutes later, when Stella was in the kitchen, carefully cooking some milk, Stark stepped in, wearing some black jeans and a red sweater. Some considerable colour was returning to his cheeks, and Stella smiled slightly. Stark glanced around the kitchen quietly, watching Stella stir the milk.
"What are you making?" he asked calmly. Now that they were inside a warm room, Stark's voice sounded nicer, slightly deeper. Stella glanced back at him. He wasn't bad looking…
"I'm making hot chocolate," she replied, opening a canister of chocolate powder and spooning several generous amounts in the bottom of two mugs. After pouring the hot milk and stirring, Stella handed Stark a mug carefully. "Blow on it, or you'll burn your tongue,"
Stark obeyed, drinking the chocolate quietly as he watched Stella clean up in the kitchen. Stella finished and glanced at Stark again.
He looked like her father.
Stella felt her stomach churn again. Was that really the reason she saved him? Because he looked like…
Stella turned away, and stared pensively at her chocolate. It didn't look so appetizing anymore. The insides of Stella's mouth felt disgusting and slimy. A hand on her shoulder startled Stella out of her reverie. Stella stared up at Stark silently, and their eyes met.
For the first time since Ester died, Stella felt like she could connect with someone. The man's eyes, those beautiful grey orbs, conveyed one thing and one thing only.
Loneliness.
Inuyoshie's after the chapter special
Sorry if that seemed a little jerky. I'm not quite sure how I feel about this chapter… there is a lot of emotion in here. Not fun emotion either. I've had friends go through depression, and have gone through minor bought of it myself… it's not a pleasant feeling. It's not a rational feeling either. So yeah… poor Stella. Hopefully a cuddly narcoleptic will make her feel better.
I mean seriously. Stark is like a giant friggin' teddy bear. /
Anyways.
So, review?
