The Girl Locked in the Winter Chapter 1

When my brother Tyler finally outgrew his teenage rebellion, my mother stopped hitting me.

She began humming quiet tunes as she braided my hair in the mornings—even though, only a week earlier, she had shaved jagged, bald patches into my scalp to set an example for Tyler when he bleached his hair blonde.

She would ladle the richest bone broth from the bottom of the pot into my bowl—even though my stomach lining had been permanently shredded years ago, back when she forced me to swallow ten bowls of ghost peppers just to break Tyler of his picky eating.

Still, for that brief stretch of time, she was closer to being a real mother than she had ever been.

Until she found out Tyler had a secret girlfriend.

The moment she discovered it, my mother marched into my middle school classroom without a word. In front of the entire hallway of students and teachers, she tore my clothes from my body piece by piece, dragged me out into the sub-zero wind, shoved me into the unheated backyard utility shed, and padlocked the heavy iron door.

Facing Tyler, who was paralyzed with terror in the driveway, my mother’s voice was as sharp as cracked ice:

"Tyler, every single mistake you make, your sister pays for it in blood."

"Today, I'm going to make sure you see what puppy love actually costs. Let’s see if you ever dare cross me again."

Tyler collapsed to his knees, slamming his forehead against the icy concrete, sobbing and begging her to unlock the door. She didn’t even flinch.

Through the thin wood, the lingering echoes of the schoolyard jeers pierced my ribs like fine needles.

I lay on the freezing floor, staring at nothing, letting the biting draft seep into my bones.

Then my eyes caught the small utility knife lying in the far corner.

I reached for it slowly, pressed the blade against my wrist, and watched the deep, vivid crimson bloom.

Mom, let my death be the final lesson you need to keep him in line.

Tell me... will it be enough this time?

* * *

The rusted edge of the blade bit deep into the tender flesh of my wrist.

When the steel severed the radial artery, I didn't feel much pain. Perhaps the shed was simply too cold—so bitter that the blood sluggishly pumping through my veins felt as though it were already congealing.

Warm, dark crimson gushed outward, soaking the frozen slab of concrete beneath me.

I lay in the spreading pool, feeling my consciousness fray at the edges, drifting away thread by thread.

Yet through the thick wooden door, Tyler’s broken sobs remained razor-sharp.

"Mom, please! I’ll break up with her right now, I swear!"

The dull, hollow thud of his forehead hitting the floorboards echoed into the yard.

"I swear I’ll never skip class again! I’ll never look at another girl!"

"Just let Maren out! It's below zero out there—she doesn't have any clothes on!"

Outside, a sudden, heavy silence fell.

My mother didn't speak for several long seconds.

In that brief pocket of quiet, a pathetic, sickening ember of hope flared in the deadened corners of my heart.

Mom... are you going to soften?

Did you suddenly remember that I’m your daughter, too? That you carried me for nine months, just like Tyler?

Bang!

A vicious kick against the shed door shattered what little illusion I had left.

Her venomous voice sliced through the wood, louder and harsher than before:

"Tyler Hayes, stop playing the victim! How many times have you pulled this shit?"

"You promise me the world to my face, and the second my back is turned, you go right back to sneaking around behind me!"

"If I don’t use this worthless girl to break your spine today, you’ll never learn!"

I lay in the dark, bathed in my own cooling blood.

Hearing her words, a bone-deep chill overtook me.

Of course. How could I have been foolish enough to hope?

For as long as I could remember, I was never a daughter to her. I was Tyler’s substitute. I was the whip she kept within arm’s reach—the most convenient instrument of torture in her arsenal.

Whenever Tyler rebelled, whenever he stepped out of line, that whip fell relentlessly on me.

When I was five, Tyler threw a tantrum because he wanted an expensive remote-controlled car and refused to eat dinner. My mother didn't yell at him. Instead, she dragged me to the laundry sink and held my head underwater until my lungs burned and I nearly drowned. Tyler screamed until he choked on his own vomit, swearing he would never ask for another toy.

When I was ten, Tyler snuck off to a gaming lounge after school. My mother dragged me out of bed in the dead of winter and forced me to kneel on the balcony—where she had deliberately shattered glass bottles across the tiles—all through the night. By sunrise, my knees were shredded to the bone. Tyler never touched a keyboard again.

It was always like this.

Tyler sinned; I was punished.

"Mom! What do you want from me? What will it take for you to open the door?!" Tyler screamed, his voice cracking with raw hysteria.

A dry, careless chuckle drifted through the air.

"Simple," my mother said.

"Get in the car. We’re going back to school, and you’re going to apologize to the principal."

"Then you’re going to call that little tramp out of class."

"In front of every student in that hallway, you’re going to tell her she disgusts you, and that you’re done."

Outside, Tyler went entirely rigid.

The silence that followed was absolute.

He didn't answer.

I knew who that girl was.

Her name was Hannah. Tyler had held a quiet, agonizing crush on her for three years. Last month, while cleaning his room, I found the crumpled draft of a love letter hidden under his mattress. He had caught me, blushing furiously, and slipped two chocolate bars into my palm, smiling with that boyish, gentle warmth he only ever showed when Mom wasn't looking.

Don’t tell Mom, okay, Maren? Next time I get my allowance, I’ll buy you that sweater you wanted.

When Tyler remained silent, my mother’s tone turned rancid with rage. She slammed her heel into the shed door again, her teeth audibly grinding.

"Fine! You won’t do it? You still care about that little slut more than your family?!"

"Then your sister stays locked in here for three days and three nights!"

"No food. No water. Let's see whose spine snaps first—yours, or her neck!"

Tyler sucked in a sharp, ragged breath.

He finally broke.

"I'll go..." His voice was barely a whisper, trembling with defeat. "I’ll do it. Just... please..."

I lay on the floor, tears tracking through the grime on my cheeks, mixing with the blood pooling around my ears.

A suffocating ache rose in my throat.

Tyler, don't.

Don't give in to her. Don't throw away the only good thing you've ever chosen for yourself.

I forced my uninjured arm upward, fingers straining toward the crack beneath the door, desperately trying to catch the hem of his jeans.

The next second, my hand passed cleanly through the solid wood.

I froze.

I looked down at my pale, translucent fingers, then turned my head back toward the floor.

There, crumpled in the center of the dark crimson stain, was my naked, motionless body.

Its chest was no longer rising.

I was already dead.