Breaking free of the party, she thrust her frail body out into the bitter air. It was a late January evening, a Saturday as she would eventually recall. Snow drifted down from the heavens, lazily making its way to the dirty roadway in silence. Thousands of tiny flakes already littered the sidewalks and steps, effortlessly concealing past track – along with the evidence of a typical unsupervised teenage get-together. Beneath the temporary blanket of mid-winter frost lay cigarette butts of countless brands, the now dampened labels of alcohol bottles, and receipts from illegal purchases aided by false identifications. Tanned hands pulled her jacket around her frame in a cautious tug, the woolen fabric wrapping snugly against well-rounded hips. From within the confines of one dark pocket, the female produced a single white cigarette of her own. It was the last of a stolen pack, smuggled from under her parent’s noses as they indulged in a late evening talk show. One final stick of uncertainty before her addiction came to an abrupt halt. At least - until she could find the opportunity to steal another small package from her father. Inside the brick townhouse, loud dance music spilled into the lonely streets. It was well after midnight, and the lights of surrounding homes had fallen dim hour prior. It was late – but her parents would hardly worry about her. She’d informed them of her plans to spend the weekend at Kaitlyn’s. An honest story for the most part; they knew nothing about the party she’d be attending before then.

Reaching behind to close the door to the three-story home, well-manicured nails wrapped around the wrought iron handle and tugged. It slammed shut with a loud thud, the copper knocker clattering at the sudden force. Then – silence. She fumbled inside her pockets once again, searching against the seams for something to light the cancer stick with. A burst of air exploded from between painted lips, expelling a large cloud of fog-like carbon dioxide into the dark Saturday. Off in the distance, ears registered the sound of a canine barking, and a plastic rubbish bin toppling over. A small pink lighter was found, pinched between two fingers. Her parents would never approve of her pastime – but she no longer wished to be restricted by their petty concerns and demands. She was sixteen, for God’s sake! Old enough to make her own decisions!

Eagerly, the lighter sparked and a meager flame rose. She lit the white cancer, and stood alone in the night with her vice. Time ticked by slowly as she smoked, tapping a heel against the snow-covered concrete of the steps. If not for the fact that it was probably ice-cold, and wet from precipitation, her behind would have been perched on the railing that traced the shape of the stairs. Instead, she paced back and forth, pale blue eyes staring off into the distance. A thin trail of disease followed her every turn, wavering up into the sky. Inside the townhouse, the party continued on, the under-aged drinkers owning the night with their cries, laughter and liquor-fueled actions. Among those – her previous lover. A senior, with the appearance and posture of an Abercrombie and Fitch catalogue model. Complete with the false blonde locks, perfectly bleached teeth – and easy-swinging sexual priority.

But fuck him. If he wanted to date that slut of a thirteen-year old hussy from the Junior School, then he could go right ahead. As her anger slowly rose, the frequency of her steps increased – until she almost flew clear off the porch. Turning sharply to avoid slipping, the heel of her left show skidded across a shallow layer of ice, her body instantly jerking in the opposing direction to counteract the loss of balance. This merely succeeded in casting her slender figure right off the slick concrete, sending her tumbling down the steps, and into the awaiting snow on the sidewalk below. Hips connected brutally with the ground, the cigarette lost in the powder as arms flew up to brace the rest of herself against the fall.

It went unheard by those inside, her soft cry muted by thrumming bass and playful screams beyond the bricks. As moments passed, she slowly began to rise. Pinhead flakes clung to the loose wool of her coat, her stockings and the hem of her hidden dress dampened by the partially frozen water. Using her palms to support her body, she struggled to lift herself away from the pavement, and regain her composure. Beneath her now upright body, the disruption in the snow stuck out against the untouched areas like a sore thumb. Optics shot back and forth in their sockets, heavy make-up smeared slightly and intensifying the crystal blue color. Scanning up and down the street, she looked quickly to ensure that no one had seen her embarrassing situation. Standing straight and feverishly brushing away the lingering snow, her body shuddered in the evening chill. She shook off the shock, and began to limp up the stairs. Right now, all she could focus on was getting back into the party, and tending to the bruise she was certain was growing on her pelvis. Gripping the railing and pulling herself weakly up the first step – she was stopped short by a ringing. A phone… It wasn’t hers. Hers was back inside the house, in her purse with the rest of her belongings. Besides – her tone didn’t sound like that. Again began to act of scanning the lonely evening, before acknowledging a small square of light buried beneath a pile of powder she’d formed with her spill. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and she slowly made her way back towards the site of her crash. The compact cellular was hidden relatively well beneath , laying mere inches from where she had fallen.

Curiously, she picked it up and wiped it off with her sleeve. The screen’s neon blue faded as the caller hung up – and lit up almost immediately as it rang again. Someone was insistent on being spoken to. Wet fingers flipped open the device and continued to clear it of melting frost. She’d never seen the phone before, and failed to recognize the number that was calling. Again, it stopped, and again, it rang. The high-pitched noise began to pick away at her nerves, and determination not to answer. Seconds passed, and eventually her thumb pressed down on the keypad, and brought the electronic to her ear.

Before she had the chance to open her mouth, a deep male voice interrupted.

“Did that hurt?”
Silence.
Her body began to quiver – but not from the low temperature. Had someone seen her fall without her knowing?! Turning in a full circle on the sidewalk, it dawned on her that she really was alone.

“I can fix you.”

The line went dead.