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Hands slid into their hair, gently scratching their scalp as she kept her hand still. They were frozen, tears and snot dripping down their soft skin, but they were quickly pulled into reality as her hand clutched their hair and dragged them back. Their mouth opened in a sudden cry of pain as their hair was being ripped out in her iron grip. Their hands grasped for a hold on the ground, a chair, a table, the wall, anything or anyone that could pull them back from the certain Hell they were being pulled into.
“Mama,”
“Shut up.”
“Mama—”
“Shut up!”
Her voice kept getting louder.
They struggled, but, in response, they were struck. They choked out a nearly unintelligible “Please,” and was ignored. They reached out to the other huddled figures in the corner of the room, and the figures shrunk in response.
“—an abomination of hell—demonic whore is not welcome in my house—”
After receiving more strikes, each one harder than the last, they gave up struggling. They stayed silent as the door was thrown open against the wall, and said nothing as they were grabbed by the elbow and shoved out into the yard. But once the door slammed behind them, they burst out into loud sobbing. Their hands shook and their breaths became ragged and laboured, every breath appearing in a white puff, then disappearing into the night. They looked after their breaths, finally noticing the snow beginning to drift down around them. At this point, they understood that they needed to leave where they were and find shelter. They knew that the door behind them would never open for them again. They found their strength and stood up, starting their long walk in the snow. But as they kept walking, the snow was falling thicker, and it became harder to see. They maintained their focus on the chunk of sidewalk in front of them, which distracted them from their numbing limbs. Out of the corner of their eye, they spotted an old, closed-down store.
They collapsed once they closed the door behind them, staring at their purple and unfeeling hands. They closed their eyes for a moment, letting the warmth flood their veins and the heat of fire blooming along their fingertips and palms. They opened their eyes to a ball of fire idly flickering in their hands, and focused on keeping it alight for the time it took to defrost. Once they had used all the energy they had, which was very little, the flame went out. At least they were warmer now, but as soon as they became more aware of different thawed areas of their body, hot liquid dripped down their face. They lifted a trembling hand as they felt a few hot and sticky spots on their scalp, looking back at their hand and seeing familiar crimson liquid glitter on their fingers. She must have pulled out a hell of a lot of hair to break skin. They searched through the dusty, rat-infested store, looking in the medicine cabinet for any sort of bandages. Once they found an old pack, they quickly tried to patch themselves up as best they could, and settle down for the night.
“At least the rats can keep me company…” they joked to themself half-heartedly, still sniffling from the cold and the crying. But it was mostly from the crying. They let their head fall back onto the wall, holding back the oncoming waves of tears that threatened to incapacitate the frightened 14-year-old for the rest of the foreseeable future. There was no time to lie down and cry. It was dangerous for a kid out alone in the Northern Russian winter. They pointed one finger up towards themself, letting a tiny flame flutter to life. A weak smile found its way on their face, and it was the only bright spot in that cold and violent night.