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Chapter 2

Auteur: Windborne Snow
I turned to look out the window.

The darkness had swallowed everything. And out there, my body was slowly stiffening into a block of ice.

But in here, glasses clinked and warmth flowed freely.

How wonderful.

Since Dad loved tough love and desperate situations so much, then he must also loved the Christmas gift I'd prepared for him, right?

Just then, urgent pounding on the door rang out. Mixed with the piercing sound of the doorbell, it instantly drowned out the cheers coming from the TV.

The laughter in the private room came to an abrupt halt.

Uncle Arnold's hand trembled slightly, sending ash from his cigarette onto his pants.

Dad frowned in displeasure and slammed his fork heavily onto the table.

"Who is it? It's Christmas Eve—why are they acting like they're announcing death? Hey, waiter! What's going on? How can you just let anyone in?"

The door to the private room burst open.

My mother, Sharon Schmitt, stood there covered in snow, her hair plastered messily against her face.

"Trevor, why can't I reach Julian? Why is his phone turned off?"

Dad took one look at Mom in this state, his brow furrowing deeply as he leaned back in his chair. Without even bothering to stand up, he leisurely pulled out a napkin and wiped his mouth.

Dad sneered. "What's wrong with you? Don't you know it's Christmas Eve? You think you can just show up here and cause trouble? What, that pretty boy dumped you, and now you're back for money?"

Mom rushed to the table, bracing herself against it. Her fingernails dug into the wood as her knuckles turned white.

"I'm asking you—where is Julian? It's snowing so hard, and the news said the mountain roads are closed! Where did you take him?"

Dad lifted his glass and took a small sip, his gaze dripping with contempt.

"He's in training—real man training. What's the matter? You feeling sorry for him now? If you hadn't spoiled him rotten back then, turning him into a useless kid who can't lift a thing, would I have to go through all this trouble to toughen him up?"

Mom's voice shot up, shrill and piercing. "Training?"

She grabbed the wine bottle from the table and smashed it hard on the floor.

Glass shards flew everywhere, wine spilling across the floor.

The relatives gasped and shrieked in fright.

My aunt, Geraldine Kane, covered her ears and ducked behind her husband, my uncle, Dennis Bowen.

"Trevor, are you even human? Julian has asthma! Allergic asthma! The doctor said he absolutely cannot be exposed to cold or engage in strenuous exercise! Are you trying to kill him by taking him to a snowy mountain?"

Mom's roar echoed through the private room.

Dad's expression instantly darkened. He stood up and shoved Mom hard in the shoulder.

Already unsteady on her feet, Mom lost her balance and fell onto the pile of broken glass.

Her palms were cut open, blood seeping out. But she simply glared at Dad.

Dad pointed at her, spittle flying as he roared, "Asthma? That's nothing but a rich people's disease! You spoiled it into him! All that crap about not being able to stand the cold or exercise is just an excuse!

"As long as Julian has enough willpower, he can fight through anything. I'm going to freeze that pampering right out of him today!"

Mom trembled with rage, tears streaming down her face.

She scrambled up and, ignoring the blood on her hands, lunged for Dad's phone on the table.

"The location? Where's his GPS location right now? Show me!"

Quick as a flash, Dad slammed his hand down on the phone, then swung his arm back and slapped Mom across the face.

The blow was vicious. Mom stumbled back several steps, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of her mouth.

"You think I won't put you in your place?" Dad roared. "This is my way of raising him! It's not something an outsider like you has a say in! Get out! Now!"

Finally unable to take it any longer, Uncle Dennis stood up to intervene.

"Calm down, Sharon. Trevor knows what he's doing. All of us saw that GPS just now. We've been keeping an eye on it the whole time."

Dad gave a cold snort and unlocked his phone. Then, he opened the app and tossed it in front of Mom.

"He's doing just fine at Camp One."

Mom swiped at the screen to check the historical tracking data.

Suddenly, her face went deathly pale, and she slumped limply into the chair.
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  • The Winter That Buried Our Youth   Chapter 10

    Dad, who once prided himself on being the toughest guy and could run three miles, was now forever reduced to a man in a wheelchair.In the courtroom, he sat in his wheelchair, his empty pant legs fluttering with the breeze from the air conditioning.Mom stood across from him as the plaintiff. She had lost a lot of weight, but her gaze was resolute."The defendant, Mr. Trevor Bowen, is hereby sentenced to seven years in prison for negligent homicide."The judge's gavel came down.Instead of reacting, Dad just looked down at his severed legs. Suddenly, he raised his head and flashed an eerie smile."I win," he murmured into the empty air, his eyes unfocused. "I lasted one hour longer than him. I'm the tough guy. I'm the toughest dad of all."The courtroom erupted in murmurs. Everyone stared at him like he was some kind of monster.Only Mom understood that he had completely lost his mind.He was living in his own delusion, trapped in a nightmare from which he would never wake.B

  • The Winter That Buried Our Youth   Chapter 9

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  • The Winter That Buried Our Youth   Chapter 8

    It was a sheet torn from a notebook, its edges jagged and uneven. There was blood on it, along with stains from melted snow. The handwriting was shaky and crooked, the kind left by fingers stiffened in extreme cold.Dad reached out and took it with trembling hands.What did he think it'd be? An accusation toward him? A curse? Or a cry for help?He unfolded the paper.I floated over to look as well.It was what I'd written to him in my final moments of clarity, just before I died.The note had only one line, "Dad, I'm sorry for disgracing you. I can't climb any higher."Dad stood dumbstruck. He stared at that line of text, his eyes bulging as if they might pop out."He's sorry. He says he's sorry to me."At last, tears flowed from the eyes of this stone-hearted man. But they weren't for me. Instead, they were for himself. That apology, as humble as it was, had completely destroyed his pathetic pride.He thought I'd hate him or curse him. That way, he'd have an excuse to call m

  • The Winter That Buried Our Youth   Chapter 7

    Unable to hold back anymore, Uncle Dennis slammed the glass in his hand onto the floor."Enough! Trevor, that's a human life we're talking about! How can you say things like that? Julian's weak, so you sent him to his death? That's murder!""I did not commit murder!" Dad shrieked hysterically. "I did it for his own good! I wanted to make him strong, to be able to make it in this world! Is that so wrong? Huh? Was I wrong?"He spun around the private room, pointing at everyone. "What do you people know? You're all just jealous! Jealous that I have the guts to raise my son this way!"Now that something's gone wrong, you're all coming down on me? Well, let me tell you—as long as Julian's still breathing, I haven't lost! I can still whip him into shape!"I floated in mid-air, watching this man who had completely lost his mind. It wasn't that he didn't believe it—it was that he didn't dare to.The moment he admitted that I was dead and that he was the one who killed me, his precious to

  • The Winter That Buried Our Youth   Chapter 6

    "Julian's fingers broke just to hold onto that torn piece of paper of yours. Are you even human? That's your son! You made him wear a single layer up a snowy mountain? You're worse than an animal!" Dwayne shouted.In that instant, everyone in the room froze.Uncle Arnold's cigarette fell from his fingers onto his pants, burning a hole in them. Yet, he didn't even feel it.Mom let out a sharp gasp and fell backward, chair and all, onto the floor.Dad kept the phone to his ear. "What did you say, you liar? Scammers these days are getting way too sophisticated. Are you trying to trick me out of my money or blackmail me? Well, let me tell you—my son is perfectly fine. In fact, he's in special training and—"The line went dead with a beep.Immediately after, a multimedia message came through.Dad's fingers trembled as he tried to open it, but he kept missing the button.Finally, Uncle Arnold reached over with a shaky hand and tapped it for him.The image was taken under the harsh l

  • The Winter That Buried Our Youth   Chapter 5

    I was praying that the wolf would eat faster.At least then my so-called father wouldn't have the chance to give his sickening little lecture over my dead body.Time ticked by, minute after minute. The clock on the wall pointed to 11:15 pm.The atmosphere in the private room had grown somewhat strange.Aside from that one momentary shift, the red dot never moved again. It just stayed there, 440 yards from Camp One.Dad was feeling the effects of the alcohol now. He glanced at the time and slapped the phone down on the table."Ten more minutes." He looked around at everyone, his gaze hazy yet fervent. "I bet this brat walks through that door right at midnight. He's definitely been there all along, just hiding outside waiting to surprise me."This brat's been this way his whole life. He wants to curry favor with me, but doesn't have the guts to just come out and say it. I'll wager a bottle of vintage wine that the moment he steps through the door, he'll get on his knees."Then, h

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