Vicky gasped as the biting cold of winter froze her tears on her face. She swallowed the pain, accepted it, for nothing could be worse than what had happened.

Suddenly, she heard hurried crunches in the snow besides her own. She bit her lip until red droplets stained the snow and ran forward, faster.

“Vicky!” Adrien’s voice cut through the brittle air. She could tell he sounded different—she couldn’t, however, tell what emotion. But she wouldn’t look back to see, no. Only run.

He called her name again, only this time it was definitely angry. Finally, she felt a cold hand clutching her shoulder in a steel grip.

She turned around, sobbing, afraid, to see Adrien’s eyes staring endlessly into her own. They were the deepest bloodred, glistening with furiosity. His words, however, were smooth and soft.

“Don’t run away.”

But she did. She kneed him in the stomach, wondering how he couldn’t feel it or even the cold. He just flipped his hand open, let her go, and collapsed in the snow.