Winter stepped into her house quietly, cautious not to make any noise that would alert her step-mom. She did not inform anyone that she was going to be late from school that day.
"Where are you coming from?" came a sharp voice that knocked every wisp of air from her lungs and straightened her up.
"Uh, Carla, my school had a basketball match today," Winter said nervously.
"And what are you wearing?" Carla crossed her arms against her chest, eyeing down the raven-haired girl.
"My top got spoiled, so a friend of mine lent me his one." Winter bit her lips out of nervousness. She did not know what type of person Carla was. Over the past few weeks, she had barely talked to Carla. Would she make a big deal out of it like her real mom would have?
"Is he just a friend?" Carla asked, and Winter nodded meekly. "Are you sure he's not more than that?" Winter shook her head. "Aww, too bad. I was hoping you already got yourself a boyfriend."
Winter's eyes widened in surprise. She didn't expect that from Carla. That was probably the bonus of having low expectations—expect nothing and people would surpass it with ease.
"Tell me more about the game. I have free time today," Carla said after glancing at her wristwatch. "Also, I bought some chocolate cookies on the way home. Wanna have some?"
Winter hesitated at first but decided probably it wasn't that bad to communicate with one of her new guardians, who actually seemed to care for her.
°°°°°
The coffee shop was bustling with customers. Sunday evening was the busiest time of the entire week. Although Winter was doing a great job, she still had trouble handling a few things.
Winter put down the tray on the counter and released a sigh. She glanced at Leon, who was decorating a cup of latte. "Hey, will Zane come to work today?" she asked him after noticing it was quite late for Zane to arrive.
Leon arched an eyebrow before replying, "His mom had chemotherapy this morning, so he might not come."
'Then why didn't he come yesterday?"
"No idea. He didn't receive my calls." Leon shrugged. "Probably his mom fell sick before he was coming." Winter lowered her head, her heart feeling heavy all of a sudden. "Don't worry. Zane skips work a lot." He patted her shoulder lightly before handing her the freshly made latte.
Winter released a sigh and tried to concentrate on her work. Yet, she could not shake him off her mind. He's always helping her out, and now she had no idea if he was going through any issues. She was missing him and it sucked to not see him since yesterday. She wanted to hear his voice at least; it would assure her that he was okay. That's why, as soon as she got a ten minutes' break from her work, she dialed his number.
Zane didn't pick up the call on the first two rings. Winter was giving up hope when he suddenly received the call on the third time. "Hello, Zane?" she spoke up.
"Yeah, what?" Her stomach churned at how disoriented his voice sounded.
"Aren't you coming to work today?"
"No," came his curt reply.
"Are you at home?"
"Yes, why?" Irritation was visible in his voice as if talking to Winter, who interrupted his nap, was the last thing he wanted to do at that moment. Zane would always stay under blanket for a long time after each chemotherapy of his mother because that would remind him of his family's unfortunate financial situation.
Winter sucked in a sharp breath and asked in an unsure tone, "Are you upset right now?"
"Why do you care, Winter?"
"I just—"
"I don't feel like talking right now. Bye." With that, Zane hung up on her; it was a punch straight in her guts.
As much as she hated to admit, his cold words did hurt her. She just wanted to say that she was there for him if he ever wanted to talk.
Winter released a sigh of disappointment. "I guess he just doesn't want me to be the one to listen to him."
°°°°°
Winter was taking off her shoes with her school bag slouched over her shoulder. She was unsure whether it was the weight of textbooks or the faint ache in her chest that made her feel heavy.
"I want to talk to you," said a gruff voice in front of her. Winter looked up to meet the green eyes of her cold, grumpy father. "Right now."
Winter checked the time on her wristwatch, in case she crossed the curfew. But it was only a quarter past nine. Wondering what kind of mistake she made this time, she quietly followed David to the inside of the house.
"I heard you want to change your school," he started in a serious tone.
Winter glanced up at Carla, who averted her eyes. She had told Carla how nice it would be if she was in McWinner High, instead of Primrose. Shit, she actually told Dad about it.
"Why?" David questioned Winter.
"Because I don't like the environment of this school," she spoke up, still feeling hesitant.
"That's it?" Winter nodded. David threw his head back in frustration and let out in a louder voice, "Do you have any idea how much extra money a school transfer would cost?"
Winter lowered her head, afraid of her father's wrath. "I was not serious about it."
'So you were joking around?" David let out a humorless chuckle before his eyes squinted in anger. 'What do you take us for? Your pals? I really can't be at peace because of your wretched existence, you know?" his voice was louder this time.
Winter flinched and backed away. She bit her lips hard enough to make them bleed; as if the pain would help her stay calm.
"I got your weekly tests' mark sheet. Do you call these marks? You got a B in two subjects? B, seriously? Is that even a grade?" he yelled before throwing the mark sheet straight at her face.
"But I got A in the rest of them," she murmured quietly, which was a bad decision.
"How dare you talk back to me, you ungrateful brat? Did your mother not teach you discipline? Of course, what do I even expect from that wretched woman? Like mother, like daughter." Each of his words was like a knife to her guts.
"Honey, please stop. She's just a kid," Carla said, putting a hand on David's shoulder, thinking he would actually calm down. But her efforts were futile.
"You know what, Winter? You should do the same thing as your mother. At least I would get some peace." Those were the last words that Winter's brain managed to register before she ran out of the house, without bothering to change her shoe slippers.
Tears streamed down her face as she thought about the cruel words of her father. How could someone say that to his goddamn daughter?
°°°°°
Winter had lost track of time since she sat on the big rock near the park lake. The distorted view slowly came to focus. It was the kind of night that was dark, mysterious, and so very sad.
The pain seemed endless as she was trapped in the same nightmare; it was suffocating. Her chest felt tight. She was cold all over. It was getting harder to breathe. She immediately rolled up her sleeves and took out the pocketknife which she always kept with her.
She inhaled a deep breath, glancing at the sharpness of the knife. She was grateful that she never stopped carrying the pocketknife, which was her companion in her sadness. Winter curled her hand in a ball, putting the knife on her pale wrist.
It was all coming back—the pain, the sadness—everything. How much would her seventeen-year-old self tolerate in this cruel world? Just how much?
Winter closed her eyes before she started pressing the knife deeper in her wrist.
