Three Years Made Her Cold Novels & Stories

I rolled down the car window and stared at her aged face. “Tanya, you can’t make up for certain mistakes. “You can’t provide for Sarah now that you’re broke. I don’t see how, since you lost your business. I’m filing for her custody. And you? “You’re on your own now.” The car window rolled up, and the Maybach sped away. She stood there, sobbing ridiculously. It was winter once again. Snow fell thick and fast, just like the winter when I left home for her three years ago.

--- "It's not even the fact that you loved her." --- Her voice cracked. --- "It's the way you smile when you're with her." --- Adrian's expression changed. --- "You don't understand—" --- "No." Amara interrupted. --- "For three years I've watched you." --- Her voice trembled. --- "For three years I've convinced myself that you were just cold." --- She laughed bitterly. --- "I told myself you didn't know how to show love." --- Another tear rolled down her cheek. --- "But then I saw you with Isabella."

Better than anyone here knows the will, probably better than the granddaughter does right now, and that's the part I'm not saying out loud either. • • • She shows up at the yard just after ten, in a coat too nice for the weather, walking the docks like she's cataloguing a house she's about to lose. I clock her before she clocks me — recognize her from the one Christmas party Edmund made the whole crew attend, years back, when she was maybe twenty-two and clearly hated the small talk as much as I did. She's older now. Tired in a way that doesn't come from one bad week.

Every cab that passed her by had the occupied sign put up. Her teeth were chattering after waiting for thirty minutes in the cold. It felt like an eternity before she managed to get herself a cab… She was still trembling even after she had settled down in the car. She was so cold she felt tongue-tied, not being able to say anything. “Half an hour more……” she sniffled, her face went numb from the cold. “It’s below zero Celcius degree tonight. No wonder you’re freezing. You’ve been waiting in the cold for more than half an hour.”

"Y-Yeah... why?" "Maybe there are clues in the notes. Is it still with you?" "I threw it away," she said, then switched the T.V. channel. She doesn't like late night shows anymore. More dramas and nonsense shows. "Oh," her friend said regretfully. "Keep the notes next time. You know... maybe one of these days he might introduce himself in a note." "His name is Third. That's always on the note, eh." "So, do you know anyone who has the same name?"

She didn’t need to feel inept. She flinched in surprise as she felt him pull her close. “What are you doing?” she hissed. “We are in public.” “Calm down, you’re fine,” he said, staring at her. “I understand you’re a bit upset, but yo—” “A bit! You disappeared for three years, three fucking years!” she whispered, poking his chest with each word. “I’ll have you know that I’m more than ‘a bit upset,’ and I have every right to be.” She could see some people staring at them. This was becoming a spectacle.

The face was all scratched up, and anything on her body that could prove her identity was taken away, so we suspect it's an intentional murder. Hearing that the body was salvaged from Salakole, Winston paused for a moment, then he put on his sterile gloves with a poker face. I floated in mid-air, staring at the man in front of me. Three years... It had been three years since I died. After I died, my soul was trapped in Salakole, suffering in the fierce wind and freezing weather all day. Until someone found me, they brought me back. But I didn't expect that Winston was the person who would personally dissect me.

In her hand was a toolbox. “None of the lights are working,” she whispered, transferring the box to another hand. “I think he cut the power, I’m going to see if I can fix it.” “Oh okay,” I whispered back. I didn’t even realize I had done it. She frowned, noticing it like I did. We were moving through the house like we didn’t want to upset or change anything. Like the house itself required our silence. Her footsteps light on the floor, she left me again in the cold house. I folded my hands around my chest in an attempt to chase the cold feeling that seeped inside me. He had been in here like this for three months…

She rehearsed her disarms and counters until they became second nature. The cold exposure therapy was the most challenging part of her routine. Every evening, after hours of physical exertion, Clara would strip down to her exercise clothes and step into a small chamber she had modified for the purpose. The chamber was kept at a constant -10°C, cold enough to simulate the worst conditions she would face during the apocalypse.

After a few minutes, she shifted closer, her bare thigh pressing against mine. “You know,” she said casually, “it’s been three years since Josh passed. Three long years without a man’s touch. Sometimes I get so lonely… and then I see a young, virile boy like you working hard in my yard…” Her hand rested on my knee, slowly sliding higher. “It does things to me.” My breathing got heavier. Her fingers were inches away from my throbbing cock. She kept staring at it, almost mesmerized by the way it twitched every time she spoke.