"Okay mom, I get it. I'm locking the door right now. Okay, love you too. Bye," I clicked the lock, and yanked on the old, rusted nob. Despite its age and brittle nature, the door held. A jar resting on the windowsill plummeted to the floor, and shattered around my bareet. Oblivious to the pain, I slammed my heal into the glass shards as I spun around. Nothing. I backed against the counter, and tried to steady my breath. Pounding against my chest, trying to jump out of my throat was my heart, small, fragile, and terrifyed. A laugh escaped my lips towards my own paranoia. Sweeping up the shattered jar, a chill brushed down my spine like fingertips on a frozen pane of glass. I shuddered and wrapped my robe tighter, as if it could protect me from my own fears. As I threw the mutilated jar into the trash can, something flashed across the window and it began to freeze. Delicate designs danced across the pane, and laced the glass with a fragile pattern.
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