Chapter 15: Winter Deepens

The coldest night of the year so far is twenty-seven degrees, with wind chill making it feel like eighteen. And my power went out.

There are some mornings when you wake up, and you just know. Something is different. Something has shifted. The world is not the same as it was when you closed your eyes.

I wake up to silence.

Not the good kind of silence, the soft, comfortable silence of a sleeping house. The bad kind. The kind that means the heat isn’t running, the refrigerator isn’t humming, the little nightlight in the corner isn’t glowing.

I sit up in bed. My apartment is cold. Colder than usual. Colder than it should be.

I reach for my phone on the nightstand. The screen glows to life. 6:15 AM. No service. No Wi-Fi. The battery is at forty-three percent.

The power is out.

The Cold

I’ve been cold before. I’ve walked to school in freezing rain, stood behind the counter in a drafty restaurant, and slept in beds that never quite warmed up. But this is different. This is the kind of cold that seeps into your bones, that makes your joints ache, that turns your breath into clouds before it even leaves your mouth.

The temperature inside my apartment is forty-five degrees. Maybe lower. The windows are frosted over. The floor is so cold it hurts to walk on.

I wrap myself in a blanket.

Not a coat. Not clothes. A blanket. I pull it around my shoulders and tuck it under my chin, and for a moment, I just stand there, feeling the fabric against my skin.

It’s been two years since I’ve worn anything in private. Two years of sleeping naked, waking naked, moving through my own space without a single thread against my body.

The blanket feels wrong. Heavy. Constricting. Like I’m hiding.

But it also feels warm.

I hate that. I hate that warmth feels like failure.

The Phone Call

I try calling Willow. No service.

I try texting. The message doesn’t go through.

I tried calling my mom. Same thing.

I’m alone. In a cold apartment. With a blanket around my shoulders and a phone that’s slowly dying.

The power has been out for hours. According to the last news alert I saw before my service was cut out, a winter storm has knocked out power to half the county. Trees are down. Roads are closed. Crews are working, but it could be days.

Days.

I think about the temperature dropping further. About the pipes freezing. About the small space heater in my closet that doesn’t work without electricity.

I think about Silas. About the notebook. About the envelope full of money, I don’t know what to do with it.

I think about Willow. About her warm body, her warm hands, her warm smile.

I start to cry.

The Blanket

I’m still wearing the blanket when the knock comes.

It’s late afternoon or what passes for late afternoon in December, which is to say it’s already dark outside. The knock is urgent, insistent, three quick raps on the front door.

I shuffle to the door, the blanket still wrapped around me, my bare feet cold on the floor.

Willow is standing on the other side.

She’s wearing her puffy coat, her avocado beanie, and a scarf wrapped around her face. Her cheeks are pink from the cold. Her eyes are wide.

“I’ve been calling you for hours,” she says. “The roads are a mess. I had to walk the last four blocks because a tree fell across the street.”

“The power’s out. My phone died.”

She pushes past me into the apartment. Stops when she sees me.