Chapter 12

Jack admitted partial defeat. He still insisted that he was special, but if nobody would see his worth, he would have to show them. And if he were to do something to show that he was special he would take note of his hated rival.   

     The red plaza wasn’t as comfortable as his home, but it was far beyond unbearable. He could have just played for a while with some other children and let it be. But Jack wouldn’t let his pride be hurt like this. The idea of being noticed in a positive light grew stronger.  

     Jack ignored the playing children and even let them throw snowballs at him.   

     He steered past the playing children and out of the marketplace.  

     Jack sneered at the memories of his parent berating him. He didn’t understand why he should care about Annemarie. He only saw a little annoying girl in her which put his achievements into doubt. He did what he wanted, and this was all that counted for him. He was going to prove something now.  

     “You know very well how dangerous the frigid city is at night. You shouldn’t have gone there,” his parents had told also him. He took it as a challenge. He had seen the adults rush into the bleak city and knew they braved the snowstorm. He determined that the bleak city was not dangerous to someone proper. He was sure of himself and thought that he could copy that success. He had also concluded that it must have been Annemarie’s fault. She was just incapable to the point she nearly froze, Jack thought. It proved to him how wrong everybody was about her being a prodigy.   

     It made him increasingly agitated. He could not accept that Annemarie had been rescued by so many people. He believed that nobody worth their salt should need to be rescued. He had become more and more confident about his ability to survive the weather.   

     Jack decided to show them all how awesome he was. He thought he wouldn’t need saving. He ran off into a snowy alleyway and nobody saw which path he had taken.    

     He was enthusiastic about staying in the city for one night, but his anger had not subsided. Jack bolted down the street like a derailed train cart. He drew a line of stomped down snow on the ground as he continued his excursion into the snowed-in city. He would not see how his trace would be covered up. In the same manner, he did not look back, Jack did not look up. He was not looking at the rows of grey buildings he passed. He wasn’t memorizing the way he took. He assured himself that everything would align for him.  

     As he left the red centre behind, he did not see how the buildings changed. He was only occupied by anger and the pursuit of showing his worth. He even ran faster, until his blood boiled, and he felt as if his heart would jump out of his chest. He emptied fast breaths into the air.   

     He had reached the top of some hill. He finally looked up to see where he was, but the concrete buildings still towered over him. His lips were drying, and his eyes were already, but he did not waver.   

     Jack ran down the other side. He only felt the cold when he realised, he was shaking horrendously. He tried to curse, but only croaked in pain as he felt his lips tear and his lips were bleeding. His eyes were also teary, but Jack would never have admitted that.  

     Time passed by without notice. His reddened checks cooled down against his will. Frost slowly bit into his skin, but Jack persisted. He drove himself deeper into the city.  

     Soon the buildings grew taller, the snowbanks grew to hills. Intersections were blocked off more often and Jack decided his path at random. He pressed onwards through the abandoned landscape, sure that nothing would stop him.   

     The snow fell faster from above, yet he fought on. He held up his hands to shield his eyes and squinted harder. He blinked more often. But all he did could not stop his heat drain away into the night.  

     As he marched it deeper into the city, he walked past icicles and pillars of ice. He saw their patterns but ignored their beauty. He did not put one thought into his surroundings. He changed his direction more often than necessary. He was not navigating the winding paths made by blocked intersections. Instead, he was stumbling through the repeating streets of the city. He paid no heed to the heavy mats of snow layered on top of the buildings. He paid no heed to his quickly disappearing footprints.   

     Jack slowed to a halt as he stumbled towards one of the walls. He was too exhausted to walk straight. He finally took in his surroundings and was satisfied. He now only had to find cover and endure the night.   

     But he stood in an exposed grey chasm. Snow buried the lower floors where overhangs would be situated, and they held no balconies.   

     He pushed himself forwards once again. The blood drained from his arms and legs. He had become pale as a ghost, as he searched for a place to hide. His arms shock harder than before. His knees felt weak. He could barely feel his legs.  

     Jack strained himself to look up. The snow kept falling into his freezing face. The buildings seemed to glare down at him. He suddenly felt small. He realised he stood alone in a chasm of winter, surrounded by dead buildings of steel and concrete.   

     He thought about turning around. He rejected surrendering.  

     He wouldn’t allow himself to be weak. He could not allow himself to turn around and undo his decisions and beliefs. He tried to hold onto the belief that Annemarie was weak, and he was strong.  

     He knew how to ignore problems. He knew how to push the blame onto others. He did as always, but the biting cold harassed him more than anything he knew. He could barely cope and soon uncertainty crept up from the hidden crevasses of his mind.   

     Although he would not turn back, he still doubted his choices.  

     He slouched forward in search of cover while leaning one side on the cold concrete walls. It protected him a little, but he could not stop moving. If he did, he would have been buried under the snow eventually.  

     As he passed the windows he saw into their dark interior. He saw nothing more than a faint reflection of himself, but the black space filled him with an ominous emptiness.   

     He could not draw any associations from this sight. The stories of the monotonous city had never interested him.  

     He only lived in the present, but now he felt miserable.  

     His walking was as slow as a crawl. He felt as heavy as a bag of bricks. He tediously put on foot in front of the other until he fell.  

     His knees gave out and his reaction was slothful. He stumbled to the ground still buried in thought.