OMG, it's been so FUCKING LONG since I've updated, I'm so sorry guys! I've been really busy! But anyways, here you are! Chapter nine! Hope it's alright! Love you all! :)

"Look, I'm sorry, I swear I didn't know the ice was that thin!"

"You fucking knew it was! Moron, you're the spirit of winter, you'd know better than anyone! If my toes fall off, it's your fault." I grumbled. Jack was still trying to hold in his laughter, but he wasn't doing a very good job of it.

We'd been playing around at the edge of the pond, (I'd refused to go ice skating after seeing the terrifying expanse of ice,) and Jack finally convinced me to at least step on the very edge of the ice, just to see what it felt like. So, being the type who wanted to try something new if it meant making someone else happy, I did it.

.

.

.

Only to fall through, soaking my skin up to my knees.

I was walking home now, with Jack wandering after me, trying to apologize. It was obvious that I'd forgiven him, even if he had known it was thin, but I enjoyed joking around with him. And it made me forget the biting cold in my legs and feet. Well, I knew what I'd do the moment I got home. Take the longest, hottest fucking bath in the history of baths.

"Why are you following me? I'm just going home." I wondered, looking sideways at my new friend. He shrugged.

"You're freezing cold, I wanted to make sure you got home safely." He answered plainly. I smirked and nudged him with my shoulder.

"Well, aren't you just the cutest thing ever! Jeez, Jamie's gonna start to wonder!" I teased. His pale cheeks went a shade lighter.

"Sh-shut up, I care about everyone! I'm just a nice guy I guess." He replied hotly. I snorted and rubbed my arms to warm them up a bit.

"Says the guy who let me fall through the ice in the middle of the winter."

"Oh come on! It was a joke!"

"I'm pulling your leg, God."

We walked in silence for a bit, and the sound of a car reached my ears. I looked up from the snow covered ground and saw the park through the trees. Beyond it was the road. I sighed. I could already see the steam rising off of a nice, hot bath tub. I prayed to whatever supernatural being was out there that my father at least had paid the electricity bill since we moved here.

"Nicole!"

I stopped dead in my tracks. Oh god. I hadn't been gone for that long, had I? I looked up hesitantly at my house, which was about two houses away. There, in the doorway, stood my father, who looked livid. I hung my head.

"Niki? What's wrong?" I didn't look at Jack, I didn't want my dad to think I was crazy, talking to thin air and all that. I took a deep breath.

"I'm coming, dad! One sec!" I called out. I didn't bother making my voice lighter, as if I were happy to see him. I lowered my head again and threw Jack a half smile. "I-I've gotta go now. See you later!" I whispered out of the corner of my mouth. Jack frowned as I began to run towards my house.

"Wait, Niki, what-" He started, but I cut him off with an extremely slight shake of my head, indicating that he shouldn't ask. He didn't come after me, but when I glanced ever-so-briefly over my shoulder at him as I entered the house, I swore I saw his eyes narrow as he watched my father close the door behind me. I squeezed my eyes shut as the door clicked into place.

"What were you doing outside alone in the cold like that! You could've died!" His tone held only anger, no worry. I opened one eye cautiously. Honestly, the only thing that he could've cared about if I died was getting fined or even arrested for improper parenting. I looked away.

"I-I was just taking a walk in the woods... I needed to get some fresh air." Well, most of that was true. That's why I'd gone outside originally, right?

"Then why are you soaking wet?" He asked, his voice quivering. I blinked and looked down at my legs. They were still damp, not at all soaking wet. Well, my sneakers were. I guess that's what he was referring to. I searched for an excuse, but I found none. I opened my mouth and explained what happened... minus Jack, of course.

"I... I went to this pond in the woods and I was being stupid. I was standing on the ice at the edge of the pond and I fell in. I'm sorry." I trailed off into a whisper towards the end of my story. I chanced a peek at my father, hoping that my eyes weren't going to be met with a fist.

Somehow, what greeted me was worse.

Those cold, furious brown eyes stared down at me. That fury would never be extinguished. Whenever he looked at me, it was never without the hate, without the anger, without the regret. As if I had cause my mother's death. As if I was the reason for his unemployment. As if I was the reason he was a miserable human being.

Anger flashed through me, and I straightened up. I don't know what made me do it, but somehow, in the millisecond that I made my decision, I felt strong. I let myself straighten my shoulders, bringing me to my full height. For that one moment, I could look at him, eye to eye, and show him that somehow, someway, I still had some strength left in me. Some strength of my own. He wasn't that much more than I. I was as tall as he was, and even though he had more muscle, I was faster. Not that I would ever use this knowledge to my advantage. Not that I would ever have the courage to fight him.

"Don't you dare look at me like that." He hissed.

Suddenly, my moment of resistance was ripped away from me and I shrunk back again, afraid of whatever punishment he was thinking of giving me. My breaths sped up and I tried to back away, but he moved his arm so he was blocking me. He leaned down into my face. "If you ever leave this house without my permission again, I swear to god, you won't be able to feel your back for a week." He snarled, his voice menacing and low.

I flinched away and nodded. He growled and grabbed my hair, slamming my head against the wall. I cried out in pain. "I didn't hear an answer!" He shouted. I tried to blink back the tears, but they fell down my flushed cheeks anyway. I tried to answer, but the pain in my head was too much. I swallowed, my throat dry and opened my mouth to respond, but apparently I had taken too long. My head was cracked against the wall a second time, this time about three times harder, and my vision faded. My knees buckled and I slumped to the floor, my eyes closing.

It was dark out when I woke up. I opened my eyes and looked around the almost pitch black room. I was on my bed, my father must have brought me there. I don't know why he bothered. I heard voices from the living room and got off the bed, making the least amount of noise possible. I crept across the floor, just barely keeping my balance-my head was spinning- and I pressed my ear to the door.

"I'm sorry, Emily, but I'm afraid she won't be able to help out with your kids tonight, she's just got a cold, and I wouldn't want her to give it to you or your kids." I heard my dad say. I scoffed, but I shut myself up to listen to Emily.

"That's too bad. I could make her some of my special soup, if you'd like. My kids say it does wonders for c-"

"Oh, that's okay. She'll be fine soon, she's good with sickness." He said, his voice carrying just a bit of panic. He didn't want Emily to see me, probably because I would pass out. Speaking of which, I was about to do that at any moment, if I didn't sit down.

I sat down on the floor, my ear still against the wood, listening. The two of them were now just chatting, small talk. It seemed like Emily had to go somewhere on a short notice, and she needed someone to watch Jamie and Sophie. My dad offered to watch them and Emily accepted with a sigh of relief. I gritted my teeth. 'Don't be so happy, Emily. Just be thankful, he won't do anything to your kids.' I thought to myself angrily.

I heard the door close, and the house was silent. My father had left, probably to go over to Emily's house to watch my cousins.

I stood up and opened the door cautiously, just in case he was actually still there. He wasn't. I let out the breath I'd been holding and made my way down the hall to the living room. I looked around the quiet house, my anxiety leaving me. I was alone, I could do what I wanted. I could-

I could relieve the pain.

I bit my lip and looked around. Yup, no one was there. I went to the sink, got a drink of water, and went back to my bedroom. I pulled open my drawer, snatched up my little plastic bag, and pinched the razor blade between my forefinger and thumb. It glinted in the light from the moon outside the window, and my breath caught in my throat. I was going to start hyperventilating if I didn't do it soon.

I thought about doing it on my wrists, but know, know that I had... friends, know that I was going to be around people more, it was risky for me to do that. Besides, it wasn't my normal... spot.

I pulled down the shorts-with a little difficulty-and gazed at my thighs.

Thighs should be smooth, unmarked.

Not covered in ugly, precise scars.

But oh well, it was too late now. I scarred easily, so there was no use in not doing it. I placed the razor against my leg and with a quick, deliberate motion, I cut into the skin. Deep. Deep enough for blood to well up and drip in a pulsing stream down my leg. I didn't stop to stare. I kept going, one, two, three, four... on and on until I had eight, bleeding, scarlet lines on my skin. I dropped the razor back into the bag, and shoved it back into the closet. I kicked the shorts off completely, leaving me in my underwear, and shakily walked back into the living room.

I was painfully aware that I was leaving small droplets of blood on the floor, but I could clean those up before dad got back. I went into the small bathroom and turned on the bath. I had some time before he got back, so I could probably get back in bed before he did arrive.

I left the water running, leaving the tub to fill up, as I went back out with a damp washcloth. I scrubbed the blood off the floor before it hardened completely and grabbed my shorts and the small bottles of hotel shampoo and conditioner from my room.

I closed the door to the bathroom behind me and locked it with a sigh. I turned and looked around the pitifully small room. The windows and mirror had already fogged up from the steam, the tub was halfway full, and there was still some grime in the edges of the floor, where I hadn't been able to clean.

I exhaled slowly and stripped completely. I left my clothes laying on the floor next to the sink and stepped into the hot bath. It felt perfect. I turned off the water (seeing as how the water was now up past my chest) and tried to relax. Blood still seeped from the cuts, turning the water near them pinkish, and my head throbbed after the multiple hits, but I could feel the tension leaving my body. My muscles relaxed, and I had to force myself to keep my eyes open. I couldn't enjoy this for very long, I had to get out soon.

I got my hair wet and began to rub shampoo into the mess of dirty, tangled blonde strands. After I was done, I rinsed out the soap and started on the conditioner. I let my soapy hands fall into the water with a quiet splash, and I let the conditioner sit in my hair for a few minutes. I noticed that my cuts had stopped bleeding, and I decided that I should put some band-aids on them for once.

I rinsed out the conditioner, scrubbed my body clean as best I could without soap, and got out of the tub. I pulled the plug and listened to the water drain as I dried myself off with one of the two towels we owned. Even if we were only going to be here for a little while, we were definitely going to need some more towels and such... and clothes... well, at least I did.

I got back into my clothes, found the tiny first aid kit we owned, and used some of the band-aids to cover up the now clean, dry cuts. I hung my towel up on the shower rod to dry and left the bathroom.

I sat down on my bed and sighed. I turned my head to look out the window and watched as a few snowflakes fell. A tear rolled down my cheek, but I didn't bother wiping it away. Although, I bit my lip and blinked back the tears that gathered. I'd let one fall. Nothing else.

Nothing else.

Nothing.

Anger welled up in my chest, pooling in the pit of my stomach, sending a hot wave through my body. My legs became restless and I stood up abruptly.

Why?! Why the hell did my mom have to die!? Why did the world leave me alone with that monster of a father? Why is it that I have no other choice than to keep silent?! Why didn't I have the courage to tell someone, about my father, the abuse, the depression, everything!?

A scream bubbled up in my throat and I lashed out. My fist tightened, and I struck the wall. My knuckles stung, but I didn't stop there. I held the wall with my other hand, as if to keep it in place, before repeatedly hitting the wall. With a final shout, I put all of my strength into the next hit, and my fist went through the old wood.

I pulled my fist out of the wall, and debris crumbled to the floor, along with the blood that was now dripping from my split knuckles and splintered skin. I sank to the ground, clutching my injured hand. The joints were red and I knew they'd been swelling soon.

I still held back my sobs, letting my anger collect further. I would let it. I'd let it swirl around in my chest. It was my strategy. My strategy to keep moving. Keep going. Keep standing.

Keep living.

If I held onto that anger, let it fuel my muscles, I knew it would eventually destroy me, but until that day came, it would propel me forward, keeping a tight hold to the idea that I could somehow use that anger to fight back.

It was a sucky strategy, and a bad idea, but it was the only one I had.

I forced myself to stand, and I wobbled. My head pounded and pressed painfully against my skull. Lights exploded in my vision, and I collapsed into a sitting position on my bed. I held my head and willed the pain to go away. I knew that I had a bad concussion, and that I had to be careful. But I'd survived worse than this.

My spine and back tingled at the memories.

The house was silent. My breaths came fast and short, and made almost no noise. I didn't move, in fear that it would set my headache off again. It had faded a bit, and only the pressure remained.

Something tapped on the window, and I jumped, sucking in a breath. I whipped around to look at the window behind me, my head throbbing.

It was Jack.

I sighed and offered him a forced smile, but I was sure that it looked more like a grimace. Well, given the pain I was in, that's really what it was.

I stood and stumbled over to the window. I tried to open it, but with no results. It was jammed. I checked to make sure it wasn't locked. It wasn't. I mouthed "go to the door" before leaving the room. I went into the front room and opened the door.

Jack stepped in, bringing a breath of cold wind in with him. I exhaled as the cold swept over me, cooling my aching head. Jack frowned as I listed to the side, my balance going haywire due to the blow to my head. I caught myself though.

"Hey, Jack. What's up?" I rasped. He raised an eyebrow.

"I should be asking you that. Are you okay?" He asked worriedly. I cast my eyes to my feet, and I noticed that a band-aid was sticking out from under the edge of my shorts. I nonchalantly moved my hand to cover it.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. I'm just a bit dizzy, that's all." I lied. My head was doing it's best in chasing it's dream of being an 808 drum, no, I was not "fine".

He shrugged, but he still looked a bit skeptical. "O-okay. I was just wondering how you were. You-" He stared at me for a moment before continuing. "You seemed kinda... off, when you left." He stated.

I shuffled my feet uncomfortably, but I grinned. "It was nothing." I muttered. I saw his eyes trail downward to my hand, and his eyes widened. He took my wrist and stared at my still bleeding knuckles.

"How'd this happen?!" He yelped, turning his gaze to my eyes. I found myself locked to his startlingly blue eyes, but I shook my head and looked away.

"I uh... I punched the wall. I was just frustrated with something. I was about to wash it when you showed up." I realized how bitter that sounded, and I quickly went on. "D-don't get the wrong idea, Jack, I'm glad you're here, it's fun when you're around!" I feigned a laugh and drew my fist back to myself. I made my way over to the kitchen and Jack followed.

"You... you must have been really frustrated, to punch the wall." He said, sounding suspicious.

I ran the water from the tap over my split knuckles, washing the partially clotted blood and the debris from the wall away. I watched it swirl down the drain and turned the water off. The blood welled up and feathered out in the left over water on my hands. I grabbed a fistful of napkins and pressed them to the wounds. I turned to Jack.

"I'm... I'm an angry person. I can control it. Well," I laughed quietly and held up my hand. "most of the time." I admitted. I wasn't lying. It felt good. I didn't want to lie to Jack. It felt wrong, it made my chest tighten with guilt.

He reached out tentatively and touched my shoulder. I flinched, but he didn't seem to notice it. "I don't think you are. If you were an angry person, you'd be showing it more." He said softly. I felt tears well up behind my eyes.

'If only you knew, Jack. If only you knew...' I said silently to myself. Instead of saying it out loud, I smiled. "Thanks, Jack. You know..." I gulped. "You're one of the nicest people I know. I don't understand why I get along so well with you." I said truthfully. How did I, a depressed, withdrawn, scared girl, manage to make friends with this kind, happy, free spirit? And in such little time?

I didn't deserve it.

I didn't deserve to be friends with him.

But for some reason, the next moment, I felt a pair of arms wrapped around my body. Another person pressed against me in a non-threatening way. I gasped and cringed at first, seeing as I wasn't used to being this close to someone and not being hurt, but I held my tongue and didn't try to talk my way out of it.

It felt... nice. I wasn't exactly sure what to do. Should I hug him back? When was the last time I'd been hugged? Was it by my mother? By my father when he wasn't an alcoholic and a gambler? Before my mom died? Was it the doctor who last gave me a hug when he delivered the news to my father in that hospital?

I couldn't remember. But I didn't realize my arms were lifting and mimicking Jack's action. I squeezed him and allowed myself to smile a little. Tears pricked at my eyes. I wish we could stay like this. Just hugging. It was the best feeling in the world to me. Was this warm feeling in my chest peace? Calmness? This fluttering sensation?

Then I felt it.

That slick, slimy, cold feeling touched my shoulder, and I gasped. My eyes snapped open and my hands flew to the thing on my shoulder, accidentally hitting Jack hard in the shoulder as I drew back and reached for it. My hand slammed down onto an oily, gelatinous... thing. I shrieked, my heart now pounding rapidly, and after half a second, the thing began to freeze over. In three more seconds, the thing had been completely encased in ice, and Jack stood there, his eyes wide, breathing heavily.

I tentatively reached for the thing again-I had taken my hands away from it as soon as Jack had started freezing it- and I peeled it carefully off of my shoulder. I placed it on the floor, not wanting to risk the ice breaking and freeing the thing, and backed away before falling to the ground next to Jack. He knelt down and squeezed my shoulder reassuringly.

"It's okay, Nicole... calm down, it's over..." He murmured, rubbing my shoulder. I calmed down a bit, taking the thing in.

It had been frozen in it's position. It was like a liquid, flowing. It was an incredibly dark brown, not black as I had previously thought. It looked like car oil had been mixed with gelatin... like car oil flavored Jell-o.

Jack poked it with his shepherds crook, and it slid a half a foot. He pulled a face. "This thing's disgusting. What the hell is it?" He muttered, tilting his head curiously.

I took a deep breath. "It's... I think it's been following me around. I've noticed it a lot, but I thought that it was just my eyes playing tricks on me." I admitted. Jack looked at me, eyes flashing.

"Why didn't you tell me!?" He shouted, sounding slightly angry with me.

My breath caught in my throat and I couldn't remember how to breathe. I turned my now wide eyes up to him in fear and shrunk back. A shiver ran through me. What was that? We-He was so-so calm a moment ago and now... My breath hitched when I finally took a breath.

He frowned and knelt down, reaching out to me. I panicked. I shrieked and scrambled away before picking myself up off the floor and pressing myself against the wall. Jack stared in shock, and I realized what I was doing. I forced myself to calm down, willed my heart to stop beating so fast. Jack wouldn't hurt me, Jack was... he was a friend. He wouldn't hurt me.

"Nicole... what's wrong?" He whispered, all his anger seemingly gone. When I refused to answer him, he went on. "I'm sorry I yelled, it's just, you could've been seriously hurt by that thing, and I thought that... uh... well, you should know when to tell when something's up." He said, inching forwards. I didn't back away, and he continued. "Please, tell me when something seems weird. From now on, okay? Anything unusual, you tell me."

I hesitated. I looked into his eyes. He was my friend. Not my father.

I nodded.

He cracked a half smile and came a little closer. "Nicole..." he started, looking awkward. "is there... anything you want to tell me?" He asked quietly.

I shook my head. I didn't need to speak to lie. God, did I want to tell him. I wanted to tell him, but what could he do? Call Child Services? Sure. They'd love getting a call from Jack Frost. No, I couldn't tell him. Besides, my father would kill me. And I didn't mean that lightly.

He nodded. "Okay. Nicole, I'm going to take that thing to the north pole. I'll be back once I know what's going on, okay?" He said.

I made myself speak. "Okay..." I rasped.

He smiled. "Okay. I'll see you as soon as I can, Nicole." He said. He went back over to the thing, covered it with a few more layers of ice, then, holding it tightly, he went to the door. He opened it, then half turned with his mouth open, as if to say something, but he seemed to rethink, and he grinned at me before leaving.

The door slammed shut.

I sank to my knees.

And I cried.