TENDONS STRAINED WHITE over her knuckles as Reagan gripped the faded afghan closer. Beyond the warmth of her home a storm raged. Icy sheets of rain washed against the darkened pane of her window, distorting the black night further. The wind howled mercilessly as it sought to gain entry. Resting her forehead against the cool glass did nothing to calm her haggard nerves. Her heart thrummed strong in her chest, each rapid pulse stealing her breath. Each shallow rasp of air burned as they frosted the window. She had told her family that she would be fine while they went to the store an hour ago. The lie still tasted bitter upon her lips.

The lights flickered overhead as the house groaned against the howling winds. “Please,” Reagan whimpered just before the house fell dark. Wrenching her eyes closed, Reagan sought to steady her breathing. Terror pulsed through her, electrifying each nerve as it pulled her under. The silence that blanketed the house was deafening. She could feel herself fading into the past, drifting farther and farther, until they consumed her. No longer was she seated on the soft cushion of the window seat, but on the damp concrete floor. It was so quiet. She could hear the pulse of her heart, the rasp of her breath. Silence meant solitude. Overhead the all-seeing camera blinked steadily. Staring at it with dull eyes, Reagan counted the flashes of red—anything to break the monotony. Steel, cold and heavy bit into the soft flesh of her ankle, reminding her that she was not free. Here she was a prisoner.

The floor creaked outside her door, breaking through her reverie. “H-hello?” she called. Silence followed. It was just the wind. Just the—creak. The room shifted, blurring. “Just the wind, just the wind,” she repeated over and over like a mantra. They hadn’t come for her. They didn’t know where to look or what had happened. She was safe. Wind echoed loudly, engulfing her. No! she thought in a panic as her room gave way to a brilliant swirl of light and color. She wasn’t ready—she didn’t want to leave. All she wanted was to feel safe again, to return to the time where it had been more than an illusion. Her stomach churned as she was propelled further. Holding fast to the blanket, Reagan prayed it would be over quickly.

With a start, she felt herself falling. The ground was ice beneath her. Blinking lethargically, Reagan pushed a wet tendril of hair from her eyes. It was raining, she registered slowly—where was she? Her limbs felt as though they were made of lead as she struggled to right herself. Falling forward, her face brushed against the damp snow. Everything trembled, the movement caused her body to ache. So cold. Her stomach lurched, tightening as she wretched. Wiping her hand across her mouth, Reagan’s eyes searched for some clue as to her whereabouts. Before her stood the dilapidated shack, the flickering light of a fire casting wavering shadows toward her. She had to make it there. The frigid, damp night had stolen the final vestiges of strength she had left. “Help,” she rasped, clawing at the snow and puling herself forward along her stomach.

Each desperate movement was a fight. Everything within her wanted to stop, to surrender to the delightful numbness that licked at her limbs. She had cheated death once, why keep trying? Her fingers brushed against the rough wood, pushing the door forward slightly and it groaned in protest. “Please…help…” she whispered before everything faded to darkness.

SHARP AND BITING, the frigid breeze pierced the thin cotton of her pajama bottoms. Her fingers gripped uselessly against the thick crust of ice along the warped doorframe, brushing against the splintered wood. The soft, powder-fine snow enveloped her arms, soothing the pin-prick sensations into numbness. Her words fell mute upon her lips, moving in silent plea for ears that would never hear her cry. There was no one here, Reagan registered dully, and she was utterly alone. A frost of tears glistened against her eyelashes as her head lolled toward the snows frozen embrace. Numbness gripped everything but her mind, even as she felt herself falling into the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness, it remained alert, bringing her to memories she had thought forgotten. In her mind, Reagan felt she would forever be prisoner to the past.

The snow crunched underfoot as someone approached, growing louder till it nearly drowned out the roaring in her own ears. Reagan wished she had the strength to open her eyes and see who approached. She had made enough enemies of past friends that she didn’t expect a savior. Perhaps a swift kick or laugh as the person passed on. She had been changed, and it seemed no one cared to accept the new, tarnished version she had become. Her eyes remained stubbornly shut, all of her energy being used to keep from fading away. If she could remain alert, perhaps she could survive once more.

Doubt circled her mind like a fog, choking out reason. She had fought to survive once before and had returned to a world that she was a stranger within. The once concerned looks of her family had transformed into apathy. They moved around her, everyone on a silent orbit in which they never had to speak to one another. Gone was the laughter and warmth she had craved while away – those were the memories that had kept her sane. Reagan knew the change was her fault. A month of worry and she had returned to them damaged. Would they have still wanted her to come home safely if they had known what she would have become? Each day she felt another piece of herself curl inward where it was safe and protected. It hadn’t taken long for friends to turn their backs as well, not understanding why Reagan no longer found pleasure giggling and gossiping. No, it would be best for all if she stopped fighting, stopped trying – if she finally faded entirely away.

The person’s voice sounded hollow, distant as it murmured unintelligible words to her. Slowly, Regan attempted to free herself from all of her hopes and desires, allowing the numbness to claim her mind until all she could hear was the steady beating of her heart and nothing more. As she freed herself from the final threads of hope and desire, she wondered if this was how it felt to die.

Warmth enveloped her in a hazy fog, bringing with it all the sensations she had sought to forget. Sharp points pierced her flesh, bringing warmth with each prick. She found herself curling in tighter to the warmth, greedily allowing it to swallow her whole without thought to its source. She felt herself falling once more to the comfort of summer’s days past. She could hear the easier laughter of her brothers, her mother teasing them as they played imagined games on the back lawn. They were all lighter then, no darkness holding them secure to the ground. She wished she could remain in that safe time forever. Nothing had been able to touch them then.

Reagan was uncertain how long she lay curled safely in a blanket of warm, tender memories. Slowly they slipped from her, fading like smoke into the crisp night air. Had it all been a twisted dream? She curled in tighter to the warmth that surrounded her, expecting to find the downy softness of her pillow rather than the solid rising and falling chest. Her muscles grew taut as she tensed instinctively, feeling strong arms enveloping her. With a faint moan, she attempted to struggle away, only to discover the frustratingly lethargic nature of her limbs. She was so weak and useless. Her eyelids fluttered open slowly, taking in a face that was distantly familiar and unknown, her mind unable to piece together why she should know him. Her dark eyes roamed across the still-soft contours of his face. He was still more of a boy than a man and in his clear eyes Reagan found no sign of menace, only concern. “I…er….” she stammered, trying to formulate a plausible reason that she would be found her in only her pajamas. “I’ll be fine. Thank you…” she trailed off realizing she didn’t know his name.

Her eyes fell to his arms encircling her, waiting for them to let her go like everyone else did.

It was only then that she realized how much she missed being held.

THE WARM EMBRACE flickered, dimming to a cooling ember. Reagan’s eyes widened in surprise as the bitter chill seeped through once more, wrapping around her bones with its icy embrace. As suddenly as the warmth had ebbed, it flared to life once more. Small beads of sweat glistened upon the boy’s furrowed brow. His skin seemed to grow more pallid as the warmth increased, enveloping her before, with a shudder she felt straight through, it stopped. With an apologetic look, the boy looked away and held her closer. Reagan could feel his heart beating hard through the thin fabric of her shirt. She searched his face curiously, seeking out answers about who he was and why he had stopped to save her. All the questions searing her tongue remained silent. To ask anything about him would invite him to do the same. He couldn’t know who she was or how she came to be here.

She felt him shift her slightly in his arms before standing, cradling her against him as though she were an infant. “Are you warm enough?” His voice was soft, laced with concern as he peered down at her, his thick blond hair falling into his eyes. “I need to know where you live –I’ll take you home. I’m sure people are worrying.”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she looked away. Hot tears pricked at her eyes, threatening to spill. Reagan was tired of the façade they all struggled to maintain. The cracks in her family had divided them until all they shared was a name. Her home was filled with familiar strangers. They no longer knew each other or pretended to care. Her own twin brother could not stand to be in the same room as her, making excuses to disappear whenever they were together. There was no on to miss her; no one to care. Her family was like broken glass – they glittered and enticed but were jaded and sharp, hurting those who came too close. She knew it was entirely her fault.

One decision had changed everything. What good was her ability when she couldn’t use it to go back and change everything?

Reagan tensed, her eyes widening with the reality of her situation. What if this boy already knew…what if? Dread traced her spine with icy fingers. “I’m fine,” she repeated with shaking breath, willing herself to believe the words. Her tongue darted over her chapped lips as she sought out something to tell this boy – something he would believe. “I…I’m meeting someone here. A sort of dare thing. They didn’t think I would come out here dressed like this. Guess I won, huh? So you can…you know…put me down…” Her voice trailed off as she looked away from the boy once more, inspecting her socked feet. He would have to be a moron to believe her. She hated feeling so weak, so useless.

Beneath her closed lids, Reagan could feel his eyes on her – curious and doubting. With a resigned sigh she gave him the truest response she could muster: “The truth is…I don’t have a home to go to.”

Not anymore, she finished silently.