I feel nothing, and at a time like this, I wish I did. I don't realize the exhaustion taking over my body until I collapse on my side in the tall snow, the skin on my legs frosted with a thin layer of ice. Snow stick to my eyelashes, clinging tightly to the long hairs as I try to blink the flakes away. I move my arm closer to my body and hug it against my chest, noticing my fingers are a pale blue color. I wonder why. Pondering this, I try to get up again, only able to lift my head up out of the snow for a moment before it falls back under. I lie there, apathetic thoughts flitting through my mind. I use up the rest of my energy and roll onto my back, resting a hand on my stomach. I stare up at the sky, the bland grey clouds shifting across a pale blue background. Small flakes continue to fall, and I can tell they shower my body. I pay them no mind.
Hours pass. Then days. I feel no hunger, no thirst. The only things that bother me are the coughs that rack my body. For some reason I can't sing anymore. My throat won't allow it. No matter. Someone will come for me, I'm sure.
Another day ends, leaving me in the pleasant darkness of night. The moon tosses me a smile when the clouds decide to let it shine. I open my mouth to call out to it, but another cough makes my back arch. I roll onto my side, seeing red spot the snow there. My throat constricts and makes it hard to breathe. I blink against the snow that fights to get past my eyelashes. Maybe if I felt something, I wouldn't have come outside. I wouldn't have wandered into the woods. I would've worn a coat and shoes instead of just my nightgown. I would've felt father's love for me even when he yells. I would've felt the cold closing in on me, entering and consuming my body.
Oh well, I think, darkness penetrating my soft thoughts, I guess it's too late now.
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