White in the Snow

The first glare of sun in my eyes is always an unpleasant surprise. The darkness and silence of sleep is disrupted by the blaring red of light penetrating my eyelids. Turning over does little to prevent me from seeing it and with a groan of frustration I give in to the light, turning to face it. There is almost a challenge as I squint into the sun, how badly do I want to give in and just be awake? A pain crawls up my neck, my shoulder popping as I lift myself from the warmth of the bed. A twist and a pop releases my other arm and I finally push myself up into a sitting position. I’ve lost the battle with the sun, but this time the realization of the early morning is met with a pleasant surprise.

The entire ground was buried beneath a wave of snow. Each dip and crevice filled with the crystalized ice, the trees bending and yet so still, as if their frozen state will protect them from another wave that is destined to come again. And the way the sunlight dances, on each and every flake, thrusts the world into gray. It is uncanny. Earth-looking adjacent. I shiver with fear as to all the secrets held within the cold. The glimmer of light embodies the demons, the snowflakes hold the nightmares of angels, the ripples of the landscape moving in tandem with the beast carving it out. The trees do not bend in fear of the next wave, they cower towards the feet of the snow monsters who have sealed their fate.

I felt the ice fill my veins, my breath fogging in front of my face; I didn’t process the scream that escaped, or the throbbing pain in my shoulder as the door tried to stop me. Crawling up the stairs like a creature on fire, I shuffled down the hall towards the thermostat, my cracking toes giving me away.

“Aleia, you had better not be trying to touch the thermostat.”

“No, mom, it’s not like I’m FREEZING to death.”

“You wouldn’t be freezing to death if you put some socks on.” She got up from the couch and headed towards me, giving me a little nudge as she passed on her way to the bathroom. Trudging behind her I returned to my room, clenching my teeth as the tile floor continued to freeze my feet. Layering myself in all black socks, sweatpants, and hoodie, I returned back to the living room where my mother was sitting, diverting her gaze from her book and eyeing me up and down.

“Why? Why can’t you just wear girl clothes like you’re supposed to?”

“Why do I have to always loOK like A GIRL?! Can’t I just be comfortable and warm,” I snarled, shoving my hands into the pocket of the hoodie and taking my leave into the kitchen. Grabbing a box of cereal I curled into the window seat, hiding my face with the hood as I began to dig through the box for a handful of my meal. I smile at the glittering demons jumping around, angered at whoever had ruined their perfect seamless snow with a divot of shadow. Lifting my head away from the cereal box, I find the source of the snow, shaken from the bending trees by the blasting wind. I chuckle as the demons begin to spread out, occupying every other available snowflake as they return to their play, their anger forgotten. The demons are atypical, their small bodies hard to make out. The snow reflected too much light, making their bodies nothing more than glittering globes of sun, with claws the only indicators of any kinds of hands or feet. And with all that light dancing around, it is hard not to be drawn to the dark crevices between every snowflake, each one a grotesque rainbow that does nothing but hide the dreams of the multi-eyed winged dwellers in the sky. The nightmares of those dreams that entertain the demons blind me, forcing me to turn away and stare at my knees. I guess it’s a good thing they aren’t focused on me. The demons don’t like dark things, not in a literal sense anyway. The black of my outfit essentially camouflaged me even through the glare of sun on the window. I remember the last time they granted me their attention; it was rather unpleasant.

“‘Only two inches,’ they said. ‘No big deal,’ they said. Well, those stupid weathermen can kiss my ass!” Shoveling snow piled up to my knee was not exactly my idea of a Saturday but nooooo, mom had to have everything perfect, even the stupid driveway. Standing on the porch, red shovel notched in the crook of my elbow, leaning on me as though already exhausted with the task at hand; I stared at the perfect snow. Smooth along the top, the whiteness preventing my eyes from focusing on any one individual thing. Not that there was anything to see. All of the cars, mailboxes and trees, every bit of ground completely enveloped with all the snow. And it’s quiet.

There’s this funny thing about snow, according to the stupid weathermen, the weird physics inherent with these crystallized drops of water, in which they absorb sound, sucking it out of the world until there is nothing left but white silence. So when the red end of the shovel violated that boundary, letting the trapped sounds escape and adding to the noise with scrapes and screeches as I shoveled and pushed the snow into piles along the lawn, that is when the snow was no longer immaculate.

I didn’t notice the demons crawling out from under my piles, the shimmer of their light-created bodies dimmed as I continued to shovel and dump shadows all over the perfect snow. There is a reason I wear gloves all the time. Or, I guess, whenever my mother notices. It seems that the tips of my fingers make some people uncomfortable, no ends and all that. Frostbite was the official diagnosis, but I know it was the demons, taking their revenge on me for tarnishing their glittering land and destroying the angelic dreams they like to play with. For beings made of snow and sunlight, it seems rather paradoxical that they could hold my fingers until they turned blue. Exhaled and nibbled until my fingers began to gray and then blacken. I didn’t know flesh could be that color, or that it matched the darkness behind my eyelids before a light was shone in my eyes. Whispers as I fell back asleep on a hospital bed between people I couldn’t see; I couldn’t feel anything.

“Severe frostbite… hypothermia… partial amputation of the distal phalanges… they are still fingers, just shorter.”

“She isn’t perfect anymore.”

Rubbing my thumb over the tips of my fingers, calluses and scars all that remain of my slender digits. Eight simultaneous amputations and yet absolutely no change in function. I glare at the snow, letting out a sigh and closing the box of cereal. Dropping my legs from my chest to the floor, I turn my back against the window, pulling my hood forward so as to block out any remnant of light attempting to reflect off the tile. Gripping the box a little too hard, I throw it against the table, staring at the scattered pieces of cereal with probably more contempt than a breakfast cereal deserves. Ignoring the shouts of my mother from the other room, I shuffle back towards the stairs, letting out a grunt as I jump the staircase and feel the bones in my feet threaten to snap under the weight.

“ALEIA! Get up here and clean this cereal up!” Slamming my bedroom door in response and turning the lock, I take two steps back and let myself fall, a frustrated scream bursting out of me as my body hits the bed.

“Aleia? ALEIA! Open this door.” The door rattled as my mother banged against it. Twisting the knob as she launched herself against the wooden barrier over and over, screeching her demands all the while.

So excessive. So anal. So violent. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“SHUUUT! UUUP!” The surge of my shout pulled me off the bed, as though possessed, my fist slamming into the door again and again as I repeated those words, tears chilling my cheeks and snot stinging my throat.

“Shut up shut up shut up.” My voice was barely a whisper, as though it too had given up. “Please, mom. I just…please just leave me alone. I’ll clean the cereal up later. I promise.” The banging stopped, the knob stilled, the screws holding it together a little looser than before but still drilled into their holes. I didn’t hear her go. I didn’t hear her demand or assent, or the frustrated tone that was an octave lower than her usual voice. I didn’t see the look of disgrace that I knew was plastered across her face or the slamming of her feet as she returned back up the stairs. I was deaf to anything but my own devastation. Crying is always a full bodied act for me. My legs slowly bending until only the floor supports me, fingers curled and tucked into my chest, my forehead balanced on top of my knees and every sound I am capable of making battling to tear out of my chest. The cold tiles of the floor a relief against the burning of my skin as I struggled to breathe. The thickened ends of my fingers digging into the divots between my ribs, pushing until the pressure turns into pain, pain that is too much for me not to notice and finally remember how to breathe. Wrapping my arms around my knees, rounding my back so that the pain of the bruises around my chest lessened, I relaxed into my body as air once again filled my lungs.

It was the sun blasting in my eyes once again that reminded me of the day I had yet to do. I had accomplished nothing but be angry at the world. Angry at the snow and the sun. Angry at the demons and the wind that made their lives difficult. Angry at what happened to the tips of my hands. Another disappointment to my mother and exhausting to myself. I would clean up the cereal once mom had calmed down, or maybe when she left the house. Yeah, that was probably a better idea. Lifting my head until it bounced against the back of the door, I challenged the sun once more. It was almost mid-afternoon, the sun low in the sky and yet still able to blind me from my spot on the floor. Taking the hint, I pushed myself off the floor and wandered over to my laptop, snatching it off the desk and tossing it onto the bed before grabbing a blanket from the basket in the corner, wrapping it around my shoulders and jumping onto the bed to join the laptop.

Opening the laptop, I arrange myself onto my stomach, letting the blanket drape me like a deflated tent as I pull up my playlist, click loop and hit play.

“The fire inside of my head got out.”

“Huh, figures.” Switching apps to the internet, I gaze at the dozens of multicolored flags covering the screen. Recognizing each one as I scroll through.

“Pack up all my problems till they sear inside my brain.”

“AND WISh ALl my problems away. Kill the flame.'' Finding a flag I don’t recognize, gray gradients sandwiching pink with a white stripe running through the middle. Clicking on the link and pulling my blanket tighter around my shoulders, as I transition to my stomach, I am met with the term “Demigender.”

“Misery. Don’t sleep. DYIng to Take back WHAT IT gave me!”

“Tragedy. Comes in threes. Third de-gree. A-pa-thy.” The music dies down again as I continue my search, going deeper and deeper into the internet until I seem to reach the end. Every website is highlighted in purple, every video begging to be replayed.

“Can’t tell pain from pleasure but I know they’re not the same…” This was it. I have done all the research, scoured every story and anecdote of what it means. That term, demigender, that’s what I was. Well, demigirl specifically. Not quite woman but not quite non-binary either.

“Iburymyfellingsalive, itallcomeswithaprice. I‘Sdo or I die nuh.” Pushing myself off my stomach until I’m sitting on the bed, my blanket falling off my shoulders and onto the floor in a heap, but I ignore it. I’d finally figured it out.

“Misery.” The suffocating depression every single day.

“Don’t sleep.” The endless hours of not knowing why I felt this way.

“Dying to take back what it gave me.” The gnawing in my gut that something wasn’t right.

“Tragedy.” Wanting to feel normal.

“Comes in threes.” Dressing as a girl and a boy and everything in between.

“Third degree.” Why I couldn’t make my mother happy.

“Apathy.” Why I wasn’t perfect enough.

A knock at the door pulls me out of my reverie. Scrambling to pause my music my mom calls out.

“Aleia? Can we talk?”

“Yeah, mom. Just…” Closing the lid of my laptop and jumping off the bed, “give me a sec.” Dropping the laptop back onto my desk I pick the blanket up from its frumpled pile on the floor, pulling it across myself like a robe before shuffling over the tiles to unlock and open the door. My mom is standing there, the skin under her eyes bruised and her face pale; she had been crying. That little fact lifted some part in me. There was some weird level of pride that our screaming match had caused her to feel hurt too. Shuffling back over to my bed, keeping my mom just within eyesight, I crawled onto my covers, curling to sit with my knees hugged to my chest and the blanket pulled to hide everything but my head from sight. Watching my slow movements, my mom moved towards the other end of the room, sliding the desk chair out and taking a seat. Even though she was below me, her body hunched over her knees, I couldn’t help but pull my knees tighter to my chest. Clutching the edges of the blanket between my fists as though it would shield me from this conversation that I know is going to be unpleasant. I guess neither of us really wanted to start the conversation; too many hurtful things that can be said but shouldn’t be.

“I shouldn’t have banged on your door,” my mother finally breaking the growing silence. “Or yelled. I know how much you hate that.” Glancing up from where my clenching fingers had kept my gaze, I turned to see my mother staring intently at me.

“I shouldn’t have thrown the cereal all over the place.” There was a pause. My mother was staring at me as I stared right back, but this time, my stare held no challenge. But her’s did. Her’s always did.

“Why did you scatter cereal all over the kitchen floor?”

“I didn’t scatter it,” snapping my head to face the door. “I just threw the box against the wall and let the individual pieces fall where they fell.”

“Well I don’t see why you couldn’t clean up…”

“SERioUSLy?” Whipping my head to face her, my neck snapping in the process, but the pain did nothing to lessen my glare.

“DON’T use that tone with me. There are rules in this house and I expe-”

“NO no no, you know what? Just,” untangling myself from under the blanket and jumping off the bed, I paced back and forth on the tile. “God mom, I thought you came in here to apologize and like, I don’t know, maybe ask me what’s wrong since I don’t tend to make a habit of throwing things all over the house. But no.” I stopped my pacing to face her, a pang of satisfaction at seeing her in tears.

“It’s all about you. Again. The perfect house with the perfect furniture all on the perfect floor which I absolutely ruined with my little, ‘outburst.’ Well I’m not perfect and this stupid house isn’t perfect but it’s not like you give a shit-”

“HEY! That’s not fair, I love you.”

“No you don’t. You don’t even know who I am.”

“What’s THAT supposed to mean? You are my daughter.”

“But I’m not a girl.”

“What?” My mother leaned back in the chair, holding her hands against her chest as she gazed at me.

“Yeah.” Leaning against the wall I wrapped my fingers around my elbows. “Um, so I kind of just realized that I’m a demi-girl. Basically part woman part non-binary.”

“Oh my god. That’s why you wanted to cut your hair, and the clothes…over some silly belief that you are this made up gender.”

“It isn’t made up! It’s how I feel, and how thousands of other people feel. It’s who I am.”

“No no, god I have failed you as a mother. First the thing with your fingers and now this…” My mom was openly crying, wringing her hands and seeming to count the tiles under her feet. She really didn’t care about me.

“You know what? Just, get out.”

“But-”

“NOW mom! Leeeeeave.” Pointing towards the door. Mouth agape, she remained sitting until I pointed towards the door again, finally getting up from my desk chair and heading towards the door. Following her to the door, I stood in the threshold, blocking her entry back in. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, my mom turned to face me, her arms gripping her shoulders and tears smeared down her face. Clenching my teeth, I slammed the door shut, locking it just in case before stomping back to my bed. Snatching the blanket off my bed I crumpled it into a ball and threw it at the wall, letting out a scream as I threw it and another one after it fell limply to the floor. Continuing to scream and kick the blanket I let the tears fall again until a thud pulled my gaze to the window, letting out a grunt as my foot missed the blanket and bashed into the wall. Outside the window I watched the demons rolling around in the snow, laughing as the wind tossed another chunk of snow at my window.

Sliding down to the floor I kept my gaze focused on the demons frolicking in the snow. They seemed so happy to just be playing all day. Rearranging the snowflakes to see different dreams and laugh at the horror of it all. They had nothing to do, no one to answer to. No one thing they had to be because they were light, small, miniscule, inconsequential, and yet so integral to the magic of every flake of snow. Schooching away from the wall and towards the end of my bed I pull my slippers out from under it, rubbing at the outside fur as I shoved them onto my feet. Knowing that my mom was probably in the kitchen cleaning up the cereal bits from the floor, I crawled over to the window, using the ledge to pull myself up off the floor. The demons had returned to their frollicking, sorting out the snowflakes that had begun to fall.

Pulling at the lock on the window, I ignored the scratches the pin left in my fingertips as I continued to pull the lock out of its position. Giving one final pull, the end of the lock piercing through my fingers, blood spattering across the window and smearing as I pushed the window up. The wind, seemingly excited to see me, blew itself into my room, freezing my torso as it scattered the snowflakes across my hoodie, adding a little sparkle to my otherwise bleak apparel. Pulling myself into the window I just sat for a moment, closing my eyes as the cold air blasted me in the face and forced its way down into my lungs. Uncontent to let me take it all in the wind blasted me in the face once more, almost toppling me back into my room. Getting the hint I jump the few feet down off the window sill, laughing as my feet and part of my shins completely disappear into the snow. The demons stopped their play and melded together, their collective bodies blinding me but given the pain that laid behind me, I chose to ignore them. I began shuffling towards the demons, smirking when they backed away and moved towards the edges of the yard, ignoring the growing wetness in my socks as the snow shoved its way into my slippers.

My efforts led me to the bending tree, all of it’s branches cleaned of snow by the wind and piled around the tree in a haphazard circle. Upon reaching the tree I turned to face the yard, leaning against the tree as I plopped into the snow at the base, laughing again as the snow billowed around me before settling on my legs and hands. Letting my head fall against the tree I set my eyes on the demons who seemed to have gained their confidence back and were throwing some of their snowflakes at me. The snow began to pile up on my feet and then my ankles as the demons moved closer, growing more and more in numbers as the setting sun blankets the waves of snow in its orange, I observed a few of the demons who had dared to try nibbling on what’s left of my fingers, stopping the blood flow from the cuts scattered there. More of the demons hovered around my hands, stacking snowflakes in an effort to bury the droplets of red I had inadvertently dripped in my trek from the window.

For the first time since the snow had begun to fall, the wind was silent, not daring to blow and disturb the demons who had begun feasting on the remnants of my fingers. And the more snow that fell, the more demons manifested into light and took to my flesh along with the rest of them.

“You know, I used to really hate you guys, for what you did to my fingers.” Unable to move them, I lifted my arm, staring at the black skin revealed between the demons who were holding onto my fingers, dangling in the air and falling off when I dropped my arm back to the ground. “But you’re not all that bad. You just want everything to be like the snow. White and sparkling and quiet. For everything to be you.” Trying to lift my arm again I realized I couldn’t, tilting my head to see that the arms of my hoodie were moving, as though a snake was slithering up my arm. I knew it was the demons, they had to make sure to get every part of me, otherwise I could never be one of them.

“I think I’d like to join you. Be as perfect and beautiful and all-encompassing as the snow. Then I could be myself…like you” My head fell onto my shoulder, my gaze struggling to focus on the demon who was standing on my shoulder, returning my gaze with their own. They seemed to be trying to say something but all I heard was screaming, which was weird because the demons never speak. Maybe I was finally becoming one, a light demon who could dance and frolic in the snow for all eternity.

“It’s working.” The screams continued to grow until all of a sudden, they didn’t. It was completely silent. More than silent, there was too little sound, like when you walk out into the snow for the first time after it has fallen. While the demons had turned my skin darker than my hoodie, I had become light itself. An amalgamation of the sun reflecting off the snow and the cold that let the ice crystals remain that way. I was finally white. Finally snow. Finally perfect.