Viola

When Viola crashed into the tree, her ski’s unlocking from her boots and flying off the edge of the mountain, her body rolling across the cold, wet ground, she was sure death was keeping watch from below.

Of course, she had taken the wrong turn. Of course, she was stuck in the areas left unexplored, dangerous, and wild.

With the snow, packed heavy on the ground as it continued to fall in sprinkles around her, Viola knew any marks she might’ve left would be long gone soon enough. Even if she had her skis, still banging and crashing their way down the very steep fall, Viola was barely skilled enough to go down a Bunny Hill without falling once. Much less this, probably worse than a Black Diamond, her eyes barely able to take in the decline amid all the trees, plants, and bushes bowed down with snow. There was no way she would have been able to make these twists and turns.

Viola didn’t have a clue how she had gotten so turned around. One second, she’d been zipping down the Raven slope behind her friends, the air whipping past her skin as she yelled in delight, and then she’d made the smallest of turns. One little bend, barely noticeable in the open path, and hidden behind trail markers. If she could get down to the bottom first then her friends would be paying for her drinks all weekend, so she took the risk, let her skis swing to hug the bend, and utterly screwed herself.

She didn’t think she’d gone too far, but the trek back up looked even more treacherous than the one leading down, especially with the sun beginning to fall. And the silence, no whoosh, as someone sped down, no cries of excitement, no feeling of adrenaline riding waves of lightning down her veins.

Yes, Viola was certain she was very, very lost.

It was a feeling she was accustomed to, having been born lost and alone, but even the familiarity could not take away the tightening in her limbs, the quickening of her breath, and the narrowing of her vision.

The air was only growing colder, the sky darker, and the snow clinging like frost to Viola’s long eyelashes, her exposed lips. Though she was clothed in white, a fashion choice Viola surely regretted now when comparing her likeness to the snowy ground, her ski suit was thick, warm, and lined with fur. She was lost, but she’d at least make it the next few hours. Maybe more, if her teeth ever stopped chattering and she stopped imagining all the ways she’d likely die tonight in a loop within her head. With all the snow, dehydration wouldn’t be much of a worry, but if she made it past tonight…hunger would soon become one. That is if she doesn’t end up slowly freezing to death, the most likely of possibilities.

Viola took a step forward, her legs shaking and breath leaving clouds with each exhale. She could do this, one step at a time.

With the landscape bathed in white, Viola didn’t really know if she was shuffling in the right direction. But she kept repeating it to herself, one step at a time, until the words had faded into a buzz in the back of her mind, tampering down her fears and smoking out her worries. Even if she was currently walking to nowhere, someone would have to find her eventually. By now, Viola’s friends would have already alerted every person at the Willoby Ski Resort who could possibly aid in the search for her and were likely tearing down the mountain in a rescue attempt.

It would have been smarter to stay where she had crashed, but Viola had gone too far to turn back now. And even though there was no noise aside from the whistling of the wind and Viola’s own steps across the crunching snow, she forced herself to pretend. Pretend there were people, her name on their lips, just a little further, Viola told herself. Her heart beat a little faster, her legs shaking a little less, as she let herself believe the wind picking up was from nearby helicopters, and the cawing of the birds just the yelling of her name. Viola, Viola, Viola!

And so, she walked, her feet growing colder as the thick socks began to dampen. And walked, her thighs cramping as each step grew heavier. And walked, her fingers useless in the gloves that had long ago let in the snow. And walked, her stomach swimming in acid that crept up her throat, her eyelids hooded, but eyes too blurry to see even if she did have the energy to open them.

Viola wanted so bad to live. She couldn’t die out here, alone and cold on an abandoned section of a mountain she’d been turning in circles around for hours. She couldn’t die out here. And yet, she wasn’t sure she could go any further. Not with this exhaustion, this hunger, this overwhelming winter. It seemed no one was looking out for Viola but herself, and why should she be surprised? Ever since she was young, abandoned, alone, Viola only had herself. If there were a higher being, it had never looked down favorably upon her, and the one below did little to help either. Even Mother Nature, if such a being were to exist, seemed to absolutely hate Viola. Why else would the snow be picking up again, covering up the tracks she had finally thought would stick. No, nothing ever seemed to go Viola’s way.

 She’d gone so far from where she’d started, that anyone who found her crash site surely wouldn’t be able to track her here by now. Which meant she should rest, just for a moment, let herself gather some strength, and pray that she’d wake to find help. Pray that she wakes at all.

Except, as Viola looked around, the moon her only light, she realized that rest might not be easy either. Any place she might’ve been able to curl up was blanketed in snow, including the heavily laden trees. “HELP!” Viola screamed, again and again until her voice ripped off of her lips and left her with nothing. Viola’s knees buckled, her body falling to the icy snow and her tears freezing as they fell off her lashes. Her teeth felt ready to burst through her jaw, and she hated that this is what giving up looks like.

What else was she to do though? She’d given it her all, ran and fought and tried her damnedest and now she was tired. She was tired and cold, and no one was coming. Viola had taken care of herself long enough, and if the universe wanted her then she would give them what they wished. She was done.

Viola closed her eyes, her legs already too numb to feel the icy ground beneath her, laid her head against the tree behind her, and felt her shoulders drop as she let the universe win. And when she began to fall into sleep, sure this was her grand finale, she could almost swear the smell of smoke drifted past. The Gods above and below, having one last laugh as they watched her demise, but maybe, maybe.

Just in case, Viola forced her eyes to open one last time, her muscles to lift her inch by inch as she used the tree for leverage. She gathered icy air into her lungs, and forced herself to scream, even as her throat screamed right back.

Viola’s vision began to spin away, her arms and legs crumbling against the tree, but she still screamed against the black and white, the blurring, spinning stars. And as she collapsed, she felt warmth against her skin, and the whisper of her name against the wind, “Viola?”