She thought she loved the cold. It was the one thing in her life that had never felt cold even though it was literally cold. She loved winter and snow and all things frozen. She thought she saw herself in the flakes that littered the ground, and she watched as the world took no notice, and she watched the pretty, pretty snow become hard and packed underneath their feet and decided that she was a snowflake too. She took it to heart and adopted the cold like a warm blanket because it was the first bit of hope that she had a place in this world. She would become the snow, cold and hard and distant, but she was not born to be cold, she was born with a bright swirling inferno within her and her whole **** life she ignored it, desperate to make herself fit into the mold the cold had formed. She was molten metal and she poured herself over the snow in hopes of slowing down, but all she created was a hard stop with nowhere left to go. She thought the cold was saving her, but the cold treated her just like everyone else. Biting and harsh. It ruined her like everything else it touched, she it’s most faithful follower. She hated the cold.