A/N:

Hey guys! So, it's kind of been like exactly 11 months since I last updated this story…yeah, sorry about that. Uh, I'm back now though, and I'm working on an updating schedule so I don't drop of the face of the earth like that again. Thanks for all the continuing support by the way!

xXxXx

Elsa's POV

There it was. My father's apartment. My "home". That horrid man had made those living quarters feel anything but homey in the few months I had been imprisoned there.

I sucked in a shaky breath, staring at the door's wooden frame and fiddling with the tip of my braid. I had no way of knowing what lay behind the door and I was starting to second guess even coming back here. Okay, so maybe this wasn't such a good idea…

The handle gleamed at me in a mocking way, out of place against the solid door. I had taken it upon myself several weeks before hand to replace the creaky old knob after one of my father's drunken rampages had left it practically useless. The handle was pathetic at best, but it did its job.

I sighed, mentally shaking myself while taking a hand and rubbing my face, folding the other one under my elbow. Come on, pull yourself together. You need to do this. For Anna's parents...For Anna…

After several more seconds, I reached into the tight pocket of my skinny jeans and removed a small gleaming key. I slowly raised an arm and set the tips of my fingers on the cool, slim door handle, moving in slightly closer while raising the dulled piece of metal to the keyhole.

The first several half hearted attempts were pathetic to say the least. The key scraped stupidly against the outer edge of the lock as I willed my shaking arms to cooperate with me.

My eyes tore their way from the door to glance down at my scuffed shoes before fluttering shut. I could still feel myself trembling as I took a deep breath once again.

Anna's grinning face coated the back of my eyelids and I opened them once more, sights set on the keyhole. I tenderly managed to slide the key into the lock, twisting it slowly so as to remain quiet. There was still the audible click of the rotating tumblers before I turned the key back again and pulled my arm from the door.

I tucked the key back into the pocket of my jeans and placed a hand gingerly on the handle once more, as if expecting it to try and bite me.

Wrapping my fingers around it even more so, the cool metal surface made contact with my palm and I ever so slowly turned it.

The door then swung inward just as slow and I bit my lip as the wood emitted a rather loud creak. You know, at this point you should just barge in there and scream that you're back. There would literally be no difference in the amount of sound. What are you, a fucking elephant?

I huffed at my own incompetence before sticking a leg through the gap in the door, followed by a shoulder as I pushed my small frame into the apartment.

I left the door open a crack as I silently released the handle, stepping along the alcohol stained carpet.

Wrinkling my nose at the foul smell of cigarettes and vomit, I forced myself through the small living room, heading in the opposite direction of my father's bedroom towards my own.

The apartment was in even worse condition than the last time I had been in there, with shards of shattered beer bottles littering the corners of the room and the remains of old food lining just about every flat surface.

I approached a door at the end of a small hallway, a blue door stained with hand painted snowflakes I had done myself several weeks before when my father wasn't home. As much as I had enjoyed tracing the smooth surface with a paintbrush, and as much as I had enjoyed gazing upon the finished designs, I knew that my father would be furious when he saw them. Boy, was I right.

The blue hue radiating from the wood momentarily reminded me of the guest room I was residing in at Anna's house-all blue everything. I wondered if she would like my door too.

I shook my head, snapping myself from reminiscing in old memories and thoughts as I pushed the door open effortlessly and tiptoed into my room.

The ghost of a shocked gasp parted my lips as I took in the room. It was a complete disaster. It looked like a tornado had laid waste to what few material possessions I had.

The floor could not be seen under masses of objects that had once lined my shelves.

Books from the self on the wall were strewn all across the floor with single pages littering the spaces in between. Some were crumpled beyond recognition whereas a few others simply lay dormant on the floor.

The wooden sliding doors of the closet had been unceremoniously ripped from the track like hinges. One rested against the wall and the other was propped up on its side, leaning against the closet's frame. My clothes that had once resided in the closet now joined the books as they sprawled across the carpet.

There was a gaping crack in the mirror on the wall that looked suspiciously fist-sized. Upon closer inspection, a tint of blood on the jagged glass confirmed that theory.

I turned my gaze to the other corner of the room to see my bed, much like the rest of the room, looking entirely worse for the wear. The mattress had been slashed in multiple places and the blankets were lumped pathetically to the side.

I walked further into my room, carefully avoiding stepping on whatever possibly lay beneath my ratty sneakers. A one eighty degree turn within the room revealed large red letters spray painted across the back of my door spelling: DYKE.

My chin dropped to meet my chest and I wrapped themselves around my midriff subconsciously. I grit my teeth and scrunched my brows low over my clenched eyelids. Why must that bastard ruin every somewhat decent thing in my life? What gives him the right to make every aspect of my life a living hell?

An unexpected wave of anger shot through my body as hands curled into fists by my side and shook slightly as I found myself struggling to control my quickened breathing.

After a brief moment of deep breaths to slow my racing heart, my eyes snapped open at the sudden sensation of a teardrop hitting my cheek.

I uncurled my hands, tugging my sleeves further down to meet my knuckles before folding my arms back across my midriff once more. I released a breath with a quick puff before shaking my head and crossing over to my bed.

Once beside the disheveled mattress, I sunk to my knees and shifted my weight so I was also resting on my forearms. In this more effective, albeit slightly uncomfortable, position, I was able to peer under the bed.

I allowed the smallest of smiles to grace my face momentarily upon seeing the moderate sized wooden box that had taken shelter in the furthest corner of the bed frame's underside.

Reaching under the bed, my fingertips traced against the smooth surface of the box and I pulled back, bringing it along with me.

I rose from the floor and sat gingerly on the bed, placing the box on my lap. Fumbling only slightly, I withdrew a second key from within the pocket of my jeans and slid it into the lock on the box. It was a pretty cheap lock to tell the truth, but hey, it did its job well enough.

Slipping the gleaming key back into my pocket, I lifted the lid of the box.

xXxXx

Anna's POV

Kristoff arrived just as I was washing the remains of my breakfast from the, rather large, glass bowl that had recently taken refuge in the sink.

At the sound of the front door slamming, I rolled my eyes before drying the bowl and placing it in the dishwasher.

His heavy footfalls thudded into the kitchen behind me and I addressed him without bothering to turn around, wiping my hands off on a towel.

"You know, there's this really cool thing that people do before barging into someone else's house. It's called knocking."

"Yeah, well…" He trailed off and I could practically feel the goofy grin on his face.

I finally turned to face him, hands mockingly on my hips. "This sort of behavior is very unbecoming of a gentleman." I paused thoughtfully before continuing. "But then again, I suppose you can be better related to a troll than a gentleman."

"Hey, trolls are cool!" Kristoff defended lamely.

My eyes rolled themselves of their own accord as I crossed he room to retrieve my phone from the counter, towel still in hand. "I swear you're just as bad as Sven sometimes."

Quickly balling the towel up in my hand, I launched it at his head. Kristoff caught it easily, raising an eyebrow with a shit eating grin plastered to his face. I stuck my tongue out at him.

He let out a sharp bark of laughter. "I think Sven is almost always better than me. Reindeer are better than people, you know."

I cocked my head to the side, unimpressed while responding, "You do realize that Sven is a dog, right? Not a reindeer."

"He's a reindeer in my heart!" Kristoff roared playfully, throwing the kitchen towel back at me.

Where Kristoff had decent reflexes, I lacked any form of grace whatsoever, and the cloth connected with my face head on as I flailed my hands in front of me in a stupidly desperate attempt to swat it out of the air.

Kristoff had practically fallen on the floor laughing, the chuckles flaming back up repeatedly every time he attempted to tame them.

I swiped the towel from the floor, grumbling slightly and placed it back on the counter by the sink. An exasperated sigh flew past my lips as I crossed my arms in front of my chest and mustered up a glare at the blond on the floor.

"Are you done laughing at me, or am I driving myself to the movies?" I asked Kristoff, pout present on my face.

"Sorry, sorry." He wheezed as he rose back to full height.

We made eye contact and a giggle sprung from his lips. Kristoff clasped a hand over his mouth, still looking a bit too gleeful for my liking.

"Don't start."I snap before wandering around him to the kitchen's door-less exit.

His hand dropped from his mouth, his face a controlled neutral, minus the tightly pursed lips.

"Let's go then." I turned back and called out to him, hand already in place on the knob of the front door. "That movie isn't going to watch itself."

I flung the door open and proceeded to let myself into Kristoff's truck, missing the way his eyes rolled sky-high behind my back as his goofy grin resettled upon his face.

xXxXx

Elsa's POV

I couldn't believe it, everything in my box was the way I had left it. The pieces of jewelry my Uncle had gifted me at a birthday party, a pair of dirty old teal gloves I had refused to throw away when I was younger, and a folded up photograph of myself and my parents the morning of my sixth birthday.

I reached in and pulled out the picture, gently tracing the crease and unfolding it. Smoothing a finger over the corner, I willed the lump rising in my throat to disappear.

The family staring back at me was full of strangers.

A woman with glittering blonde hair was kneeling behind a small child, her hands clasped around the young girl's chest in a make-do hug. The woman's attention was not on the camera that had taken the picture, but rather focused on the face of a man standing next to the pair of girls, a small smile revealing pearly teeth stretching her face. Who was this woman? I could barely recognize her.

The man also wore a smile, well, more of a merry grin anyway. He had a palm resting on the woman's shoulder, with the other grasped tightly in the little girl's hand. I was certain that this man had never existed.

My attention turned to the young girl, studying her features. Her platinum hair was wound into a braid, with several clumps straying messily over her eyes. She too had a grin plastered to her face, brighter than either of the parents. Icy eyes gleamed in the light of the camera, nothing but innocence and pure happiness radiating from every fiber of this girl.

I sighed internally.

This girl. This girl who looked as though the world itself could end and she'd be none the less happy as long as she'd have the two next to her along for the ride. This girl whose mother had once told her that she deserved all the good in the world. This precious girl.

This girl was not me.

This girl was a dream.

In one swift movement, I threw the picture back into the box and all but slammed the lid shut. I was unable to look at those people anymore. They did not exist anymore. None of them.

I rose from the bed and crossed the room, pulling the door open and stepping outside. I made to journey back to the front door but hesitated.

After a moment's consideration, I clenched my eyes and turned back in the direction of the bathroom.

Once inside, I yanked the mirror on the wall forward to reveal the medicine cabinet, not even bothering to turn on the light. I gingerly pushed several bottles and boxes to the sides, feeling around in the back.

My fingers brushed against cool metal and I pulled a gleaming razor blade from the depths of the cabinet before sliding it into my box. It thudded against the wooden bottom with a light clang.

I closed the cabinet and turned back before finally making my way to the front door, my box tucked securely under my arm.

Halfway across the living room, I noticed the front door was closed. I was almost positive I had left it open. I blinked and tentatively crossed through the rest of the living room, pausing in front of the door with my hand on the handle.

A bottle appeared suddenly beside my head and exploded against the wall.

Pieces of glass flew around me. I raised an arm and dug my face into the thick cloth at the inside of my elbow.

I hadn't even turned my back to the door when my father's voice rang out behind me.

"I knew you'd come back."