(no subject)
The train was almost empty. He was slouched next to Victoria, coat pulled high to hide his face. Victoria was whispering in his ear, rubbing his back and telling him everything would be all right.
An older passenger walked by and stared at him, eyes cold. Fraser wilted, trying to hide further under his coat.
Victoria's voice was still in his ear, telling him he'd done the right thing and she'd be rich. Fraser turned to her, tried to understand.
But, she was gone. The train slowed to a stop. Fraser looked out the window, saw whiteout conditions and wondered how he'd gotten to Canada.
"Victoria?" His yell reverberated off the walls of the empty train. "Hello?"
No answer.
His coat was thin, far too light to sustain in a blizzard but he tried the train doors anyway. They slid open just barely, sending in freezing tendrils of cold air.
Fraser stumbled back, shocked at the chill.
There were words on the wall in front of him, written in loopy scrawl. He recognized the writing.
-You were good for one thing. And now I'm done with you.-
Fraser blinked, brushed some of the snow coming in from the open doorway out of his eyes. The snow got thicker and, when Fraser turned to the door, he discovered it wide open. The wind whipped dangerously, snow flying in with enough speed to sting when it landed on his face.
Fraser moved to huddle underneath a seat. It didn't help much. Everything burned.
More whispers. Victoria's voice again. Soothing him. Telling him he had his uses and, though small, they were helpful but he was no longer needed.
His father's voice.
Agreeing with Victoria.
Fraser closed his eyes against the blizzard. There was a drift forming in front of him. He didn't care.
Victoria's voice, calling him a good boy. Condescending. His father cheerfully saying that his son was the epitome of a victim.
The snow continued until Fraser couldn't see. Couldn't breathe.
He didn't want to.
An older passenger walked by and stared at him, eyes cold. Fraser wilted, trying to hide further under his coat.
Victoria's voice was still in his ear, telling him he'd done the right thing and she'd be rich. Fraser turned to her, tried to understand.
But, she was gone. The train slowed to a stop. Fraser looked out the window, saw whiteout conditions and wondered how he'd gotten to Canada.
"Victoria?" His yell reverberated off the walls of the empty train. "Hello?"
No answer.
His coat was thin, far too light to sustain in a blizzard but he tried the train doors anyway. They slid open just barely, sending in freezing tendrils of cold air.
Fraser stumbled back, shocked at the chill.
There were words on the wall in front of him, written in loopy scrawl. He recognized the writing.
-You were good for one thing. And now I'm done with you.-
Fraser blinked, brushed some of the snow coming in from the open doorway out of his eyes. The snow got thicker and, when Fraser turned to the door, he discovered it wide open. The wind whipped dangerously, snow flying in with enough speed to sting when it landed on his face.
Fraser moved to huddle underneath a seat. It didn't help much. Everything burned.
More whispers. Victoria's voice again. Soothing him. Telling him he had his uses and, though small, they were helpful but he was no longer needed.
His father's voice.
Agreeing with Victoria.
Fraser closed his eyes against the blizzard. There was a drift forming in front of him. He didn't care.
Victoria's voice, calling him a good boy. Condescending. His father cheerfully saying that his son was the epitome of a victim.
The snow continued until Fraser couldn't see. Couldn't breathe.
He didn't want to.