It wasn't very hard to pin-point where he was, it was cold and cruel – most notable of all, it was snowing. Max stared out at the blinding white expanse, eyes wide and his body unmoving as he lay there. He lay there god knows how long; his mind barely comprehended that there was now a thin layer of snow covering him, while Max wanted nothing more than to rot away and die of hyperthymia, instincts took over and forced him to sit up. He inhaled shakenly, trying not to panic, He knew that his little body couldn't handle this kind of weather and he was honestly scared. He didn't how he got here or where he is even!
His mind was frustratingly muddled, Max couldn't remember anything. He sighed shakily, he got up to his feet slowly, careful with any injuries he may or may not have. He was too numb from the cold to know. Max stood there, silently observing his surroundings, he wanted to be sure where he was going to go.
He took his first step.
And collapsed into the unforgiving cold.
Frustrated tears filled his vision. Max gripped at the snow, and gritted his teeth, refusing to let them fall.
Internally, he knew that he deserved this. Max was a bitter 12-year-old. Extremely rude for his age, pushed away his problems and issues, evading personal questions from his friends without a twitch in his expression.
But he couldn't help but be afraid. Afraid of death. Afraid of what will happen.
(He vaguely remembers how he told his friends that he wasn't scared of death; that he welcomed it with open arms.)
Determination filled his bones, he pushed himself up, Max didn't want to leave his friends alone.
(His friends threw him concerned looks. Max ignored them.)
He walked slow and deliberate, very careful with where he stepped.
Max could barely feel his fingers. He barely gave it a thought and continued to trudge through the snow.
Though, it fascinated him somewhat, the dullness. He held out his hands, watching then shake slightly, Max forced his hands to grip each other, a numb pain shot up his arm, he gasped in shock, the dull agony catching him by surprise. Yet, it was...almost comforting, knowing he could at least feel something.
He couldn't keep track of how long he's been walking, hours? Days? Minutes? He grits his teeth, it really bothered him not knowing the math. At several moments, Max's legs threatened to give out under him.
And, eventually they did. He landed in a crouch, unable to go on.
The hopeful part of Max whispered to him that he was so close. Only a little farther.
He obviously didn't believe it, the twelve-year-old wasn't the kind of person who would rely on blind hope, it was stupid in his opinion.
So, instead, he gently lay himself down in the snow, tucking his now completely numb hands into his blue hoodie pockets. He inhaled one last time, and let his eyes fall shut.
Max shivered as he felt a cold, skeletal hand grip his own small, numb hands.