FROST

Silvermist let out a long, heavy sigh as she reluctantly closed the book in her hands, the words she'd been reading blurring together as her thoughts drifted. The library had been her sanctuary, her escape from the mess that was her life.

If she could, she'd spend hours, even days, there, immersed in the written word, pretending the outside world didn't exist. But reality had a way of forcing itself into your thoughts, no matter how much you tried to drown it out. The weight in her chest grew heavier as she thought of home.

Home, where chaos awaited—her parents' constant arguing, their voices always sharp with anger, filled with words that cut deeper than she wanted to admit. They didn't love each other anymore, that much was clear. And all she wanted was to forget it all, to find a place where she could just breathe.

But it wasn't that easy, was it? Life doesn't let you hide for long.

Silvemist rubbed her temples, trying to block out the harsh memories of their screaming, of their insults. She didn't need to hear them anymore. She didn't want to. She was tired of it all. But what could she do? Where could she go?

Silvermist was snapped out of her self-imposed haze when she realized someone was standing right in front of her. Cullen. He stood there, flipping through the pages of the same book she had been reading, his eyes scanning the pages with a sense of quiet determination.

When had he even gotten here? She hadn't noticed him walk in. Had he been watching her?

Her heart skipped a beat as she blinked in surprise. Panic surged through her, and she instinctively lifted the book to hide behind it, hoping he hadn't seen her expression shift from one of quiet contemplation to pure shock. She had to get away. She couldn't stay here, not with him so close. Her thoughts were already scattered, and now she was just a mess of awkwardness and uncertainty.

Silvemist stood up quickly, nearly knocking over the chair in her haste. Without even thinking, she started walking away, the book still clutched to her chest like a shield. She couldn't even make eye contact with him.

That was Cullen, the president of their school. And, unfortunately, he was also one of her most persistent enemies. She couldn't even remember how it had started.

They had just hated each other since the very first day of high school. Maybe it was the way he looked at her like he could see right through her, or maybe it was the way he made everything seem like a competition, even the simplest of things. There was something about him that made her skin crawl, and she was pretty sure the feeling was mutual.

His presence alone sent a shiver down her spine. He had this power over her, this ability to make her pulse race and her mind freeze, and she hated it. She hated how effortlessly he could get under her skin. He was her kryptonite, and she couldn't even pinpoint why.

She barely even realized she had reached the librarian's desk until she handed her book to her. Her fingers were trembling slightly, and she forced herself to focus. She needed to leave. The last thing she needed was another confrontation with Cullen, not now when she's entirely emotional.

He was just one of many who found her personality… difficult to deal with. People often called her a bitch. She didn't care much anymore. She had learned that being kind, being gentle, wouldn't get you anywhere.

Silvemist had learned that the hard way. So she built walls around herself. She spoke her mind, and she didn't care if it hurt. Her words had become sharper, more biting over the years. It was the only way she knew how to survive.

Silvemist stormed out of the library and headed toward the school gate, the cold air hitting her face like a slap, but she didn't care. She had promised herself she wouldn't go home today. She was going to spend her time elsewhere, anywhere but there.

Just as her foot hit the pavement, she felt something hard smack against the back of her head. It was a sharp, stinging contact that made her breath catch. Her instincts kicked in, and she immediately turned around, scanning the ground. There it was: a crumpled piece of paper wrapped with something hard—a pebble.

She groaned under her breath, her irritation flaring up before she even had a chance to process it.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Sil. I didn't see you!" a voice chirped mockingly.

She glanced up, narrowing her eyes, and saw Gail standing with her two lackeys—her so-called "clown" friends. They looked like they had just walked out of some bizarre circus performance, with their garish makeup and exaggerated smiles.

But the worst part was that they were always glued to her side like mindless pets, hanging on her every word.

She didn't waste time. She bent down, grabbed the crumpled paper, and straightened up. Her fingers curled around it, and she squeezed until it was compact enough to be as hard as a little bullet. Without hesitation, she flicked it with her fingers, the ball hurtling through the air like a missile.

"AWW!" Gail screamed, her hands flying up to her forehead like she'd been hit by a car. The sound of her overreaction was almost too satisfying.

Silvemist stifled a laugh. Of course, it would hurt, but not nearly as much as she was making it out to be. She knew her too well. Gail lived for drama. The shrill, exaggerated sound of her voice echoed in the air as she rubbed her forehead, glaring at her with a venomous look.

"You little—" she started, but she wasn't having any of it.

Silvemist raised a finger in front of her face, cutting her off mid-sentence.

"If you've forgotten which club I belong to, it's probably a good idea for you to stay at least five meters away from me," she warned coldly.

The edge in her voice made Gail hesitate, her eyes flickering between her and the thought of what she could do to her if she pushed Silvermist any further.

She hesitated, then took a step back, clearly recalling the consequences of crossing her. Silvemist almost smirked at the sight. She loved that she still had this power over Gail.

"Look!" Gail scoffed, her lips trembling with frustration. "Leave my boyfriend alone or—"

Silvermist couldn't hold back the laughter that bubbled up. "Holy heck, it's almost been a year!" she said, cutting her off. "He's all yours, goddammit! Lock him, chain him. You can even live under his skin."

The words left her mouth before Silvermist could stop them, and she could see the stinging effect they had. The flush of defeat across Gail's face was enough to satisfy her.

Silvemist plastered a smirk on her face, watching as Gail struggled to find a response.

She turned just in time to see him—the one she was so desperate to claim—walking toward them. Levi.

She sneered, unable to hide the disdain that crept up in her chest. "You, guys, are long dead to me," she hissed, her words sharp like a blade.

Without waiting for her to retort, Silvemist pivoted on her heel, heading straight toward the gate. Her mind was already somewhere else, somewhere far away from the mess that had followed her these past months.

As she walked, she bit her lip to calm the storm inside her. It wasn't the first time she had faced Gail, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. But something about today felt different. Gail's few words felt heavier than usual, and the sting of the past was more alive than she wanted it to be.

Silvermist wasn't over it. The wound they left hadn't healed. It was still there, gnawing at her, hunting her, following her wherever she went. She knew she hadn't fully let go. And she didn't know if she ever would. But what did it matter?

The world kept turning, and so did she.

She wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck, thankful for the warmth it provided. She could feel her sinuses starting to flare up—great, just what she needed. This wasn't a day she could afford to get sick.

Silvemist quickly hailed a cab, wanting to get as far away from the school as possible. The driver greeted her with a soft grunt, his voice a little raspy from the cold. He mentioned something about the temperature dropping, and she nodded, rubbing her hands together for warmth.

As the car pulled away from the school, she let her gaze wander to the fogged-up windshield, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the glass. The city around her was alive with activity, but she couldn't seem to shake the feeling of emptiness that had settled deep within her.

She could hear the thrum of life outside, but all she could focus on was the heaviness in her chest. It was as though something inside of her was broken, and no amount of distractions could fix it.

She glanced out the window, and her eyes caught the decorations hanging along the streets. Thousands of heart-shaped balloons floated in the air, their soft golden light glistening in the dull gray of the afternoon.

It was the same every year, the same decorations for the mayor's wedding anniversary. Silvemist hated them. The bright colors, the lovey-dovey atmosphere—it all felt so… forced. At least for her.

She had seen those decorations before, years ago, and they had been different then. The memories came flooding back—memories of laughter, of warmth, of a time when she was happy, before everything had fallen apart.

She remembered standing beside him, laughing at the stupid way he had almost slipped on the ice.

His cologne had lingered in the air, a comforting presence as he pulled her close for a hug. His voice, so steady and calm, had told her how much he loved her, and she had believed him. She had trusted him with everything she had.

But that was before. Now, she was left with only the ache of what had been lost.

"I miss him," she whispered under her breath, not caring if the driver could hear her. The tears had already started to slip down her face, and she wiped them away hastily. How long had it been since he left? It felt like just yesterday, and yet it felt like a lifetime.

"Ma'am, are you okay?" The driver's voice pulled her back to the present, his tone filled with concern.

She blinked, realizing she had been lost in her thoughts for far too long. She wiped her cheeks, trying to stop the tears, but it felt like they wouldn't stop coming.

She forced herself to breathe, to pull herself together. She glanced at her reflection in the windshield. The person staring back at her is not the person she was once.

Before Silvermist could collect her thoughts, the world around her seemed to change. She heard the screeching of tires, a sound so loud and abrupt that it made her heart skip a beat. She turned toward the sound, her breath catching in her throat.

A ten-wheeler truck was speeding toward them, barreling down the road with no intention of stopping. Her body went cold, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. Her body screamed at her to run, but her legs refused to move. She couldn't move.

She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the impact, for the crash that would surely end everything.

But then, nothing.

Slowly, Silvermist opened her eyes, unsure if she was alive or if she had already died and forever be a lost soul. However, what she saw next made her eyes widen.

The truck was frozen in midair, suspended in time like a moment caught in a dream. Her breath caught in her throat.

"W-What in the world—" she muttered and turned to the cab driver. "S-Sir, are you o-okay?" She asked, leaning to tap the driver's shoulder, but he didn't answer, so she looked around, her mind spinning, and saw them.

Figures—three men, each one more unreal than the last.

The first one was tall, with striking blue hair that shimmered in the dull light. He landed in front of the truck, a confident smirk playing on his lips.

The second man landed beside him, his expression serious, but there was something almost amused in his eyes. The third man was younger, but the way he looked at the others suggested he held some kind of power, some kind of authority.

"Oh! That was close, Tim!" The blue-haired one looked at the frozen truck with a grin, muttering.

"You shouldn't have done that, Frost. Father will kill you if he finds out," the second man chided the one Frost referred to as Tim.

"Stop it, both of you," the third man interrupted, his voice sharp, as though he were the one in charge. "I thought we agreed to go home before Father notices we're gone."

That Frost grinned again, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "We can't just leave things like this, Fall."

"What can you do?" the second man named Tim responded. "Use your magic again, and Father will really kill you."

Silvermist didn't know what to make of this conversation. Magic? What magic?

That Frost guy turned to Tim, a serious look crossing his face. "Turn back time so no one knows we were here. We can't let anyone know we exist."

"Ugh, I'll get the blame again," Tim groaned. He raised his hand, and before Silvermist could even blink, they disappeared, leaving nothing but the stillness of the frozen world behind.

She was left sitting there. What had just happened? What was she supposed to make of any of this?

The world around her seemed to return to normal, the truck unfreezing, but this time, it didn't hit them—the sounds of the city coming back to life like nothing had happened.

The driver turned to her, his voice concerned. "Ma'am, are you okay?"

Silvermist stared at him blankly. Was she okay? What in the actually heck was that?!

"P-Please, stop the car," she stuttered. She quickly paid him, leaving more money than she should have. "Keep it," she muttered as she stepped out of the cab.

As she walked away, she felt a strange unease settling deep in her gut. Was that a hallucination? Had she taken too many antidepressants—no! It felt too real to be just hallucinations, and she always took her meds correctly.

She wasn't sure if she was losing her mind, but one thing was certain: her life had just taken a turn she couldn't understand.

"I-It must have been the meds," she whispered to herself, chuckling. "Otherwise, nothing would make sense."