A Snow Covered Hatred

[sen_nen_no_yuki]

Title: A Snow Covered Hatred
Author: sen_nen_no_yuki
Rating: PG
Pairing: Anyone really… No specific pairing in mind ;D
Genre: Angst and a smidget of romance?


She used to love the snow. She used to love the way that it sparkled when it fell as the light reflected off of its crystal-like surface. She adored the way that the snow still shimmered in the midday sun even after it landed on the ground. She loved how no two snowflakes were alike; each with its own pattern and design. She used to love how they had their distinct shape in the sky, but the second someone touched it with their bare hand, it melted. It was the unattainable beauty of winter because despite being able to see the crystal wonder, no one could actually touch it.

She remembered the happy times she had with her family. She used to love building snowmen with her sister and posing for a picture with their new friend. She could have probably filled three whole photo albums with the number of pictures she had. She remembered being bundled in layers of clothing until a point where she could barely walk without falling over. Despite almost suffocating under all the cloth, she still loved the snow. She recalled when she would fall backwards onto the bed of white, flapping her arms and legs, making snow angels. She remembered how they would be perfect until she had to get up. She always called her sister to help her stand, fussing about having to ruin the pretty print and giggling at the times where she tripped and fell backwards, right into the image she was trying so hard to protect.

She remembered staying outside having snowball fights. The kind of snow that crunched under her feet was a sound that she adored. She remembered staying outside until her ears were bright red and her nose was running. She remembered all the smiles, loud laughs and shrieks when someone got hit by a snowball. She remembered standing in front of the door, dusting off her snow covered body alongside her mom. Her sister always quickly stomped off and then ran back into the house, followed by her mom’s gentle scolding. She always shook her head at the mess that she would trail into the house. The two of them would always take their time, making sure all of the snow was shaken away. She remembered once they were done and about to go inside, her dad would always choose that time to ambush her mom with snowballs. She always wondered where he had the time to make so many. It took her the longest of time to clue in and realize that her dad was never present when the two of them were dusting off. After that, her mom would always chase after him, picking up handfuls of loose snow and throwing it at him, whining when it never hit her target.

She remembered after all those days in the snow they would sit around the TV. She would be clutching onto a cup of hot chocolate and wrapped up in her favourite quilt made by mom. She used to stare absentmindedly at the snow outside the window, wondering what to do the next time she went out. Those times were what she loved the most. Even though the snow was cold, it was fun. It was a memory that she used to hold dear. The memory that she thought she’s treasure forever.

That was until she was abandoned. She remembered coming home one night and finding that her call of “I’m home!” was followed by a deafening silence. She figured that they had just gone out and would be back later. Upon inspection, everything in the house had disappeared. Furniture that had been in the same place for years on end had been uprooted, the only thing left was a light layer of dust on the ground. Clothes that had been scattered around the house had been picked up and they were gone. Pictures of their family were missing; each frame that sat on a table or hung on the walls disappeared. Everything that made her home like a home was gone. The only thing that was left in tack was her room and a small stool from her childhood left in middle of what used to be her living room. She pulled the small stool in front of the window and she sat there waiting. Days passed and no one came home. She remembered sitting in front of the window by her front door waiting desperately to see the headlights of her parents’ car. Every night, she would sit there, the falling snow being the only thing that comforted her.

She remembered one day, she was sitting curled up in her favourite quilt by the frosty window when there was a knock at the door. The knock was so loud that the sound resonated through the silent home. She hesitantly stood up and slowly shuffled towards the door finding a woman professionally dressed in a suit and holding onto a briefcase in her hand. Before she knew it, she was being dragged from her home by the wrist, the hold on her tightened until it stung. There was a car parked on the street. She remembered being pulled through the snow and being forcefully thrown into the backseat. Despite the screams and struggles, the woman got into the driver’s seat and before closing the door, she yelled to a group of men. The door shut loudly and from the window of the car, she remembered seeing the men coming outside carrying plastic bags. She could see from the distance that her favourite quilt poking through a hole in one of them. She remembered that she continued to scream and kick around in the backseat, not knowing who these people were. The woman in the front of the car turned around and snapped at her. She went quiet, eyes growing wide in fear. She had thoughts of anxiety and curiosity, unsure where she was being taken.

She remembered the men being very squarely built, the expressions on their faces being deep frowns. She remembered the men throwing her bags into the trunk of the car. One of the black suited men slammed the trunk and car rocked from the sheer force he used. She remembered thinking about opening the other door in the car and running away. She decided against it, realizing the strength of the two men. The woman gave a signal to the two before driving away.

She remembered driving into a part of town that she didn’t recognize. The woman introduced herself as they drove. She remembered that she was a social worker and despite being told her name, it was a piece of useless information that had been long forgotten. She remembered that she was old enough to understand what a social worker was and knew that she was probably going to be taken to some random place. The woman continued to chatter but nothing stuck. All of the things she was saying where absolutely irrelevant to what she really wanted to know. She tried to muster up enough courage in order to ask about her family but every time she opened her mouth to speak, she felt as if a strong wind swept by and stole the words from her mouth and mind. The woman kept taking glances at the girl in the backseat of her car through the rearview window. Realizing the question she wanted to ask, the woman bluntly gave an answer.

She could remember choking on her breath, coughing as if she mistook what the driver said. She didn’t mishear though. The woman repeated herself, and this time it was crystal clear. Her parents didn’t want her anymore. Her sister didn’t even want her. It hurt. She felt like she was stabbed in the heart and that the one holding the knife was pulling downward, dragging her heart along with the blade. Honestly, she didn’t want to believe it, but she had been alone for days. On top of that, she was sitting in this stranger’s car, going to some unknown place. What other explanation was there? No emotion was shown through her face despite the feeling of her heavy heart. Why on earth would her family just pack up and leave her? Was she a bad girl? She rarely got yelled at or scolded so why did they hate her? For the rest of the car ride, she looked out the window at the gently falling snow, realizing that it would be the only one left to comfort her from now on.

She remembered being brought to the front door of a small town house in the middle of the country. From the outside, the house looked welcoming, warm and inviting. The front door was painted a light blue and there were flowerpots that lined the entrance. Each pot had a different flower of a different colour and shape, showing that whoever owned the house put a lot of effort into keeping the plants alive and healthy. The pathway was clean of leaves and twigs. Overall it was a nice place. She could remember the chime of the doorbell when the social worker pressed it. Just like the rest of the house, it was nice.

There was a call from behind the door and a woman ran to answer it. The door opened and she felt a rush of warm air, probably from the heater in the home. In the doorway stood a very thin woman wearing a purple jumpsuit and her hair tied up in a small bun, loose strands hanging all around her face. She had a huge smile on her face probably already knowing that she would be getting a new resident in her house.

She could remember when she first spoke, her voice sounded as if she sang every word. She remembered the way the social worker was forcing a smile as well. It was so contrary to the deep frown she had before. She spoke in such a sickening sweet tone that from hearing it alone, she wanted to throw up. It reminded her how twisted society was. The woman at the door was nice, but it was obvious that the social worker just wanted to drop her off and leave just so she could get her money.

The woman introduced herself. Her name was so long and difficult to say, that she was asked to refer to her as Mrs. D. Mrs. D lead them into the house. Even from the inside the house looked welcoming. There were knitted dollies all over the tables of the home, their surfaces looking as if they were tediously cleaned every day. The walls were painted a dull green and were absolutely plastered with picture frames; the sheer number of them rivaled the amount of snowmen pictures she had herself. She remembered that each picture had Mrs. D standing happily alongside a man and a small girl. The Bahamas, the Caribbean, the Rainforest, Italy, Spain, Rome; they were all written below every picture along with a date stamp. Looking around, none of the places she had been were snowy. The people in some of those places probably didn’t even know what snow was, let alone have seen it. She remembered that she didn’t want to live with this person. They were absolutely opposite. She loved the snow, and this Mrs. D, from what she could tell anyway, hated it. After all, who would turn their thermostat to over 30 degrees when heating costs so much? Even though Mrs. D appeared to be so kind, she remembered feeling even more alone.

Mrs. D was a widow; her husband died years before from an illness. The little girl in all of the pictures was her daughter who had gone away to get married in the United States. She hadn’t seen her since. She remembered being a little more at ease, hearing that they were both abandoned.

She remembered being led up a set of stairs to a room that faced the front of the house. There was no bed, or even a mattress. The room was pretty much empty except for a small dresser in the corner of the room. The wooden floors were covered by dust and there were cobwebs in the corners and crevices of the space enclosed by four walls. There was a large window though. It was a window which looked out to a large empty field covered in white. Just looking at the field alone, made her want to run outside. That is, until she remembered her family.

She remembered thinking that there wouldn’t be anyone to help her out of her snow angels, no one to giggle with her when she tripped and fell backwards into it, no one to build a snowman with, no one to pose for a picture, no one to scream at after being hit by a snowball, no one to help her shake the snow from her coat, no one to smile with her, no one to laugh with; and then she realized it. Playing the snow now was…lonely.

The social worker brought her bags into the room. She remembered that from once glance alone, there was something different about her belongings than from the time where she last saw them. One of the items in the bags were stained. She remembered the social worker apologizing for dropping her things into a puddle on the driveway. She remembered her burning anger hearing the tone in her voice and that her apology was false. She obviously didn’t care. She threw the bags carelessly into a corner of the room and brought papers to Mrs. D. Then it hit her. Her eyes widened in shock as she bolted towards the bags, pulling out her quilt. It was dripping wet and stained brown from the mud it fell into. Despite being dirty she clung onto it. After all, it was the only significant thing she had left. Mrs. D clicked her tongue and went over to her. She remembered Mrs. D’s touch on her hand. Unlike any other normal person, who radiated heat from their fingertips, her hands were icy. Mrs. D tugged on the quilt, trying to pull it from her grasp, claiming that the quilt was going to give her a disease from being so dirty. She promised her that she would wash it and return it. She buried her face into the quilt, holding onto it until her knuckles turned white. She didn’t want to let her take what was most important to her right now. Both women had to hold her down in order to the take the blanket from her and after that, they left her alone in the room. Mrs. D promised she would get a mattress for her later, and with that, the door closed behind them.

She figured that she would be there for a long time and so she started to put her clothes away in the tiny mirror-less vanity. It was silent in the room, but she remembered being able to hear the two women talking downstairs. She remembered hearing the front door close loudly. Little did she know that when the door shut, it was the last time she had her freedom.

She could remember all the nights full of pain. It wasn’t emotional pain or anything like that either. It was serious physical abuse. She could remember all the times where one tiny thing she had done to anger Mrs. D, who she began to refer to as the Devil, would result in a half hour, or even more, filled with endless punches, kicks and slaps. She remembered that she constantly regretted never running when she had the chance back when she was with the social worker. Then again, she was way too young to support herself back then. Everything was way too good to be true when she first arrived at the house and she remembered blaming herself for being so damn gullible. The mattress she was promised never came. Her muddy quilt was never washed and never returned. Her belongings, the items that she put into that small dresser in the corner, the ones of worth were sold to used-clothing stores for some quick cash. All she was left with was a few pairs of ripped sweatpants and old baggy t-shirts. She wasn’t even called by her name anymore. She was always referred to as “kid” or “brat” and honestly, there were times where she had to dig deep within her mind in order to remember her given name.

As much as she didn’t want to, she remembered the way she was brutally attacked by the Devil. There were nights where she was beaten unconscious, and others where she was left to suffer while being aware of what was going on. The nights where she was left alone in the room that faced the snowy field, broken and bruised, were the type of nights she hated the most. The nights where all she could do was lie on the cold hardwood floor in front of her window, watching the snow fall gently as she clung onto her life. If it weren’t for the fact that she was in excruciating pain, she wouldn’t have minded being all alone in her room. After all, she got to watch the snow fall and that’s what she liked to do most. Despite that, she much preferred being knocked unconscious because pain can’t be felt when cloaked by that kind of darkness. And to her, that darkness was her paradise.

There was always a draft in her room too. As much as she loved the snow, the cold was going to make her sick and that was something she wanted to avoid at all costs. Being sick meant that she would have to suffer not only the poor treatment of her guardian, but also the pain of body- wracking coughs or the dizziness of a fever. She remembered that she wasn’t allowed to be outside either. She was locked between the four walls of her so called bedroom and completely separated from the one thing she still loved most; the snow. She remembered the Devil and her lack of care. She was fed only enough to keep her alive, but never enough to keep her body strong. She remembered being so frail and tiny that she could no longer keep the t-shirts sitting properly on her shoulders and felt as if her strongest bones would break into a million shards. She remembered the piercing sounds that sliced through the silence of the room when she was hit. She remembered her own screams that echoed in that open room. And right now, there was no way she could escape it all.

The Devil lived in an area where she was completely isolated. The closest convenience store was an hour down the road and she had no neighbors. The road in front of the house was rarely used because passerby never wandered into that part of the country. The house was decorated as a disguise for those who came by, but she always thought it was so pointless since no one would see it anyway. It was why no one could save her. After all, no one could save her if they couldn’t hear her screams.

She had lived with the same treatment for over four years and she was amazed that she was still alive. She was finally old enough to escape from what she had called hell. She remembered that her birthday was during the winter, befitting for someone who loved snow, but unfortunate for someone who had to trek through winter weather to escape from the clutches of the Devil. She didn’t want to wait for spring either. She didn’t want to stay trapped within the firey pits of hell any longer.

She remembered sneaking around in the middle of the night for a good week, stealing many of the Devil’s belongings and hiding them in convenient places in the house. She remembered finding a small crawlspace under the stairs and she used it to hide things. She hid money, food, warm clothing; all the products of hours of sneaking around the house. After that week of less sleep than she usually got, she was finally ready to leave the house that had clutched onto her for so many years.

She left in the middle of the night, dressed up in thick layers of clothing that she stole from the Devil. She remembered feeling extremely anxious at the thought of freedom, but absolute fear of being caught. It was cold outside and even though she was wearing the many clothes, the wind swept through them and caused her to shiver. After a few hours walking towards town in the cold, she felt like she would die of hypothermia before she got there. For the very first time in her life, she could remember that she disliked the snow.

She managed to make it into town where she hopped onto the train and took it all the way to the closest city. She remembered being scared sitting in the train alone. There were others in the cart but they were all strangers. She feared the judging eyes that stared at the little girl with the backpack filled with food, large amounts of money and other necessities. It looks like she had just robbed someone, and in a way that was true. No one could understand what she had been going through.

She remembered the constant pang in the back of her mind; the little voice that told her she was going to get caught and dragged back towards hell. She had constant thought about turning around and going back to the Devil before she woke up the next morning. But if she turned back around, then her week of preparation would have been for absolutely nothing. That thought, she remembered, is what propelled her forward. She knew that she had to get as far from the house as possible because when the sun rose, and when the Devil rose from her slumber, she would be chasing after her. The only thing she could really do was stare out the window, watching the snow blowing about in the wind. She remembered silently apologizing to the snow for her thoughts earlier and thanking it for taking her mind away from what she was afraid of. It was truly the only thing that ever comforted her and something that right now she didn’t want to lose. It was because if the snow were to stop and disappear, her thoughts would drift back to her fears.

She remembered that once she got into the city, she had to work hard to keep her life on track. She remembered having to work in a flower shop and at a café in order to make enough money to feed herself. She had no home and was grateful that the owner at the café who let her use the room in the back of the store. She remembered that the girl was sympathetic and felt bad seeing all the bruises that decorated her body. At first glance, the café owner thought that she was a delinquent; one of those kids that got into fights and were part of gangs. It was because of the bruises and cuts that decorated her pale skin. When she told her story, she remembered the look of shock on the owner’s face and the immediate apologies that followed.

After she had saved up enough money working at her two jobs, she moved into a small apartment. She remembered her only neighbor was a man who was a few years older than she was. He was already a student in university and was studying to become a teacher. She was happy that he always offered to help her learn especially because she only had the education of a middle school-er. He would spend hours teaching her about almost everything under the sun; math, chemistry, physics, biology, history, geography, English, French; the list when on and on. She always felt indebted to him because no matter what the cost was for her books, he always paid for them. He knew about her past and she remembered always wondering if he was being sympathetic. There was something that intrigued her about the man though. Most people wouldn’t even give a second look to a girl who was some poor teenager trying hard to just keep herself alive. She often tried to pay him back by taking him out to eat or even cooking for him, but no matter what she did, she always felt like she her petty dishes didn’t measure up to what he had done for her.

She remembered the first time where it snowed as they were walking along the streets. She remembered her feeling of absolute joy when she learned that he loved the snow as much as she did. And somehow, it was then when she realized that she fell head over heels for him.

Her love for the snow was rekindled as well. She loved the snow for the fact that it had a new type of shimmer in her eyes. She loved the snow for all the times she spent under it with him. She loved the times they spent catching snowflakes on their tongues, standing under the lampposts at night, looking like absolute idiots as they just stood there in the middle of the sidewalk. She loved the laughs that followed after it, before walking hand in hand back to their homes. She loved the way she had to tiptoe in order to reach his lips, the packed snow beneath her feet always giving her a helpful boost. She loved how they could spend hours outside; doing the things she used to before she was dragged into those years of sadness. She remembered the way that she would be showered by the snow, the frozen flakes falling into her hair and the crevices of her shirt and making her shiver as it touched her bare skin. She loved the way she would see the huge smile on his face after she screamed at him. Secretly, even though she acted like she hated having to shake her shirt free of all the snow, she loved the way he would try to be playful. She remembered that she even loved the times where they weren’t in the snow at all. Instead they were sitting in the single roomed apartment, staring at it from the window.

And then that happened.

They were walking home one night when they stopped by a mound of snow. She took one glance at it before picking up a handful of it and packing it into a tight ball. She snickered, seeing that he hadn’t noticed she stopped before tossing it at him. She remembered the snowball hitting him right in the back of the neck, some of the snow falling into his shirt. She laughed when he turned around and started to chase her. She remembered that she saw him pick up a handful of snow before continuing to chase her. She remembered that she ran across the street watching as he attempted to throw the snowball from the other side of the concrete road.

She remembered running back across the street, thinking it was safe, and being hit by a snowball he was hiding behind his back. She remembered giving him a light push, and then, that was the last time she saw the smile that was meant for her.

He tripped over a small mound of snow and stumbled into the middle of the street. It was late at night and there was a car speeding down the street. The lights from the car hit his face and before he knew it, it was the last thing he saw. There was a scream before he blacked out.

She remembered trying to call out to him, trying to warn him of the oncoming car. He was knocked backwards into the middle of the street, falling headfirst. The driver continued on, not even caring that he had hit someone. He was probably one of those idiotic drunk drivers. She remembered watching as the car drove away and she did her best to try to memorize the license plate numbers before the car turned the corner. She ran to the lifeless body in the middle of the street and screamed his name, trying to get a response from him. She saw a puddle of blood leaking from his head. The blood slowly spread onto the snow covered street and dyed it red. It wasn’t like those times where the red colour was diluted from the snow. It wasn’t like those times where she had a nose bleed that dripped onto the ground and was engulfed by the white. No, this time, the amount of blood had overcome the white colour of the snow; its purity was stained dark red with the blood of her lover.

She could remember the relief that washed over her to realize that he was still alive. She was allowed to go into the room to visit him. Seeing him lying in the hospital bed with a bandage around his head and arms, asleep and breathing steadily made her cry tears of happiness. She was happy that he was okay. She could remember sitting next to him for the next few days holding his hand and talking to him. She told him about what happened to her daily, who she talked to that day, what she did; practically everything under the sun. She remembered talking to him even though he was never awake. She could remember that it hadn’t snowed in days. The weather was becoming warmer and it was melting away slowly. The green of the grass was peeking through the melting white. She silently wished that the snow would just leave and never come back. She blamed the snow for the near loss of her lover.

She remembered the day when he finally opened his eyes. They opened slowly, squinting from the light. He blinked a few times and she smiled widely thinking that they would be able to go back to the way they were before. Her smile disappeared when he asked innocently, “Who are you?”

She remembered trying to explain to him that she played a significant role in his life but she just got a blank stare from him. The doctors came in to see that he had woken up, and upon hearing about his sudden loss of memory, they broke the news to her. She remembered that they told her he had suffered from the impact of his accident and it caused him to lose some of his memories. When she tried to get him to remember her, she saw that he was clutching his head screaming in pain. She decided that it was best to stop pestering him. She sat with him for few minutes in silence. She tried to figure out what he did remember, and what he didn’t. Then she noticed that he was staring out the window. She remembered that he suddenly said out of the blue, “Did you know that I love the snow?”

She remembered walking outside of the hospital thinking that it was best if she completely removed herself from his life. It hurt her to see the pained expression on his face when he was frustrated he couldn’t remember her. She didn’t want to see the way he clutched his head when he tried to regain what he lost. The snow was still falling. She scowled at it and silently cursed the floating fluff. She blamed herself for loving the snow. If she hadn’t loved the snow, she would have never thrown the snowball at him. If she hadn’t loved the snow, she wouldn’t have teased him and provoked him to get his playful revenge. If she hadn’t loved the snow…they wouldn’t have met in the first place. If they didn’t love the snow, they would have never fallen in love and this wouldn’t have ever happened. If she didn’t love the snow, he wouldn’t have forgotten her. And now, the one thing she used to love the most in the world…

Became the one thing that she despised.


A/N- I kno this is depressing!!! but honestly i put A LOT of work and emotion into this fic >< I actually edited for a good three days after i wrote this! I hope you liked it~
Commento to hiban ga daisuki desu kara...ronpyou shite kudasai?  (コメントと批判が大好きですから。。。論評して下さい～) Translation: Because i like comments and critisism, please comment~