CONTENT WARNING
This page includes discussions of gore and a mention of vomit.
Do not read further if these are topics you wish to avoid.
Info
Written by LiminalDoctor
Shoutouts!
Thank you for the critique from MisterNemu and
ReyDay!! This page is better thanks to your help.
Prompts: cold, loss
One Halloween (I was like 3), there was a knock at our house and a family of trick or treaters were at our door. To my surprise, my younger sister was one of them. I was shocked and demanded that she gets back inside. We weren't going to fall for her obvious trickery and give her sweets. Immediately my mum pointed out to me that my sister was behind me (still inside the house) and that in front of me was a different, similarly aged toddler wearing the same Halloween costume. Somehow, I hadn't considered the speed for her to get from inside to outside in seconds was impossible to achieve. We gave extra sweets to that girl.
The snow is where she had buried him.
Clumps of snow drag Olivia’s feet, stalling her already rigid body to a desperate stroll. Every crunch mocks her unwelcome desires and beckons animal instincts to sink their teeth deeper into her mind. She turns to the cold for distraction, finding bitter comfort in its obnoxious presence. Inattentive steps see her fall to the ground once again, a clumsy mess in her much too large boots. Olivia has yet to learn to control the inevitable sway that comes every time she lifts a foot. Maybe she will grow into them eventually. They haven't been hers for long, after all.
She’d taken them from him before she buried him under the snow.
Fingers that were painful to move before are now at the forefront of protecting her body. Olivia feels the damp soak into the leather of her coat. It steals away the small bit of protection she had from the cold. She feels tears bubble in the corners of her eyes, finding screams of anger brewing within her. But she knows well to push them both down, savouring the energy that would have otherwise been wasted. He’d taught her the importance of preserving every sliver of energy as hunger stalked them through every fruitless attempt to rest. Still, her body tries to shiver off the cold.
The snow must be treating his body the same way a freezer treats raw meat.
She finds trees with missing bark now. It had been scraped off by his knife with passing hope. He'd been so pleased to find dry wood, protected by looming branches and perfect for feeding a hungry fire. It was his plan. He recounted tales of lost hope rekindled by a dancing flame, of serenity baked in the warmth of an open fire. But the wood was frail and moist, a far cry from the level they’d wandered before. She damned the pleasant warmth that had shrouded foresight as wails, heavy with regret, joined the howling wind. He coaxed her woes away, blaming the impossible nature of fate for their misfortune. Olivia hated emotion in that moment. It wracked her, disregarding the fact she had known all along it wouldn't work. He probably knew too.
The stripped trees direct her to the snow she had buried him under.
After that, the passage of time must have felt heavier to him. Optimism they thought they had frozen in the snow melted in the palms of a greedy reality. He taught her more with haste that chewed away his strength; his stomach was filled with an emptiness akin to his promises. But the warmth. The warmth she wishes she could feel the embrace of just once more. The warmth that she continued to live for. The warmth that had been so unforgivingly soured. She regrets clinging onto puddles of foolish optimism.
She had said nothing when he started digging his own grave.
The clearing is decorated with memories of their life together. He’s just ahead now. Olivia hadn’t drifted far from his grave, tied to its side by a mixture of wistful sorrow and predatory hunger. She approaches with apprehensive steps, overwhelmed by rotted familiarity. She drops to her knees, legs sinking into the foot of his shallow grave. She begins digging. Snow sprinkles her pink gloves, mimicking sugary sweets she had loved to snack on back home. It urges her to dig faster, to unwrap his body from the stained snow.
Just as she had buried him, she now uncovers his body from the snow.
He isn’t wearing much. She’d taken most of his clothes to prolong her own survival. She takes off the rest and huddles over, rocking her body in an attempt to find leftover comfort. There is none. Though rigid, his body still maintains a hunched posture. Thinning hair still droops from his head, and eyes still look to her with bountiful assurance. He had been the last of her humanity, and now there is none left to save. She holds his knife in her hands.
She wishes she could have left him buried in his grave.
She tears away at tough flesh, ripping it from his body and shovelling it down her throat. She feels a repulsive relief when it hits her stomach, swallowing the vomit that burns her throat to preserve it. She cuts away the little fat he has left first. His kindness had led him to handing most food scraps to her despite complaints riddled with anguish. She forces herself to chew through disgusting muscle, muzzling human impulses that scream at her to spit it out. She cries when she sees his face, flavouring meat with salty tears. She salivates when she sees sliced flesh, distorting former life into new promises.
She had buried him in the snow, but now he finds a new grave in her stomach.
She's disgusted by the body that remains. Like discarded puzzle pieces, he is merely chunks of the man she’d known so well. The man who had held her hand through absurdity. The man who had guided her through levels that pretended to be home. The man who had died so that she could continue to live. She tries to bury him again, but it can never be the same. Piles of snow are unable to hide the bloodied mess, drifting further from her vision of a final bed for eternal rest she had intended to make for him. There is just pain left to feed on; it’s a worthless meal but one she still devours. She stands, offering only a final glance at the life she’s leaving behind.
His grave is now forever disturbed, but she is full.