Chapter Text
Ever since Snow was a little girl, about three or four years old, her mother, a famous ballerina, had put her daughter into classes and lessons. Her mother wanted her to become just like her and live a life of fame. She wanted this life for her as ballerinas could retire young, and she wanted Snow to be able to enjoy her life without living a life where multiple jobs were needed to make ends meet, and with more freedom to do as she liked.
Snow liked ballet and dancing. She loved it, actually. She enjoyed going to classes, to her mother’s shows, and going to her own shows where she could show off her dancing skills. She was great at it, too, and she had great potential later in life. Snow was privileged from early life. Her father was a successful businessman, after retiring from the Air Force after being inflicted an injury that could not be healed. They were wealthy and lived in a home far more luxurious than the average American household. They even had an indoor pool, which Snow loved to boast about to her friends.
Ever since she was young, or even since she was born, she’d been complimented for her looks. Her beautiful blonde hair, her fair pale skin, and blue eyes. Even as she grew older, people always went out of their way to compliment her. She was a beautiful girl, and like her mother always told her, “You’ll grow up to be a beautiful and successful woman, I swear by it.”
Unfortunately, the innocent compliments soon turned into something less wholesome. Catcalling and other unwanted attention became all too common, and those who once admired her—classmates, friends, and even fans—gradually shifted to making sarcastic comments about her appearance. Rude and witty comments on her expense was commonly spread around the classroom, all because she was pretty.
Stereotypical “non-attractive” people often got bullied, she knew that, but why did she get bullied? All the comments she so often encountered, made her wonder. Was she not as pretty as her mother had told her she was? Was she just trying to make her feel better about herself? It left her feeling insecure and uncomfortable. The once outgoing and joyful girl began to withdraw, distancing herself from friends and even quitting ballet—much to her mother's dismay.
Like many teenagers, she went through a rebellious phase. Though she wasn’t allowed to dye her hair, she embraced emo music and dressed entirely in black. Despite the bullying, her life had seemed manageable until her 17th birthday in 2001. That year, while her parents were away for a show in New York, a tragic airplane accident took their lives, leaving Snow to move to Alaska and live with her uncle until she reached adulthood.
Life didn’t become any easier after that. Her uncle, her mother’s brother, was far from kind. Snow had suspected as much before moving in, and her suspicions were soon proven to be true after a month or two. She did her best to distance herself, spending most of her time at school, or with the few friends she made, but it was hard. In the confinement of her room at night, he would be there. An older man, in his late 50s - the son of Snow’s grandfather, but from a different woman than her own grandmother. He, too, carried stain of a troubled legacy; his father, Snow’s grandfather, was a rapist and abuser.
Tragically, these horrific traits seemed to have been passed down to him, and the things he did to Snow, would never easily be forgiven or forgotten. As Snow continued to live in solidarity with her uncle, far up north in Alaska, she found out that even her uncle didn’t have many friends. He had no contacts, or anyone that would come looking for him if he didn’t talk to them. Not even any neighbours.
It gave her an idea; one she was reluctant to execute, but willing to do if the abuse continued. By the time she’d reached adulthood, she’d bought a plane ticket back to California. She’d sent in an application to join the Air Force, like her father did before her. She figured if she couldn’t pursue the career as a ballet dancer, she could follow her dads' footsteps instead and become a pilot. But the grudge she held towards her uncle was too great. The things he did to her over the months, it left too great of a scar, and ruined too much of her, she wouldn’t be able to forgive and forget. Revenge; was her only way of getting closure. It was on the same day her flight to Sacramento was. She had packed her bags and tossed them outside on the driveway. She was ready to leave but had one last thing she needed to do; “Say goodbye” to her uncle.
The older man sat slumped at his desk in the cluttered confines of his room, surrounded by empty beer cans and scattered pill bottles. He was passed out, snoring loudly, his face turned toward the desk. With grim determination and a plane to catch, Snow grabbed a roll of duct tape and some rope she’d found in the garage. Working quickly, she secured him to the chair. When he woke, confusion turned to fury. He screamed at her, hurling curses and threats, struggling violently against the restraints. She didn’t flinch. Without a word, she stepped back, slipped out of the room, and locked the door behind her.
In the living room and kitchen, half-empty propane tanks—used to power the cabin’s heaters and appliances—sat in plain view. Snow had also emptied what little gasoline remained in his car’s tank, splashing it across the floorboards. Her movements were methodical, her mind cold and focused. With a practiced hand, she lit a cigarette stolen from his stash, took a slow drag,— her first ever cigarette, which would one day turn to many,— and then let it fall from her fingers onto the gasoline-soaked floor. Flames erupted instantly, licking up the walls and consuming the room. Without hesitation, she calmly but swiftly walked out of the house, leaving the roaring fire behind her.
Almost a day later, her plane landed in Sacramento, California. With determination to turn her life around, a plan to join the Air Force, she went looking for a place to stay. With little to no money left on her person, most of it being on an account she still didn’t have access to, she checked in on a motel, not far from the busiest streets in the city. If she was going to find a place to work, it might as well be in the middle of where everything happens. It was expensive, but as luck might have it, she got a job just three days after moving there. The local Starbucks, as it might be. Not as a cashier or anything, but in the back. Mopping the floors and taking out the trash. It wasn’t anything that could pay bills and make ends meet, but she could afford food and the motel room for long enough to get answers from her application to the Air Force. The weeks rolled around, but she was soon accepted and sent out to join the Air Force.