Ice, Frost and Snow

Warnings: Swearing, violent death, and slight child slavery if you squint/ know your Italian Mafia history.

Chapter 1- In Exchange...

That day, I was, in a word, relieved.

My second year mid-terms were finished!

Of course, this was immediately followed by my return to my work, but I still didn't care. After all the hard work was done now, right?

Zipping back to the dorms, I had a rushed shower, and quickly assumed my hair in a tight bun after my uniform was on. Nodding in satisfaction at my readiness I looked at the time.

And proceeded to panic mode.

"Shit, I'm late!" I exclaimed, hitching my faux-leather bag on my shoulder and fishing out my keys. I closed the door allowing it to automatically lock, and raced down the stairs, out the dorm and to my cute little car.

Arriving at the complex where my work was, I dashed up the escalator and into the large department store.

After clocking in, I chucked my bag in my locker and headed out the floor for the next three hours.

I didn't know that this would be the last time I would be here.

...Three Hours Later...

I stretched my arms up above my head, flexing back and forth to work out the kinks. Clutching my bag I strolled out of the complex, not a care in the world other then what my belated dinner would be. However, as I turned left onto the highway my gut was clenching in sickened apprehension. Something was going to happen. Probably something bad. Soon.

I slowed slightly, taking care in my driving. Stopping at a red light near the empty warehouse district, I realised I was shaking and twitching nervously. Maybe I was sick? I had thought.

The light flashed green and I hit the gas, I was almost home.

A flash of high speed metal-shine caught my attention before it happened. I still remember the look on the truck driver's face was one of horror.

I heard shrieking of metal on metal before I felt the impact. My driver's side door became highly concave, as bits of metal splintered all over the place, and the glass shattered into many, many pieces. Warmth flooded over my legs before I could not long feel them, a sharp pain flaring at my side and across my back. My arm snapped at some point not long ago, blood spilling all over the place as bone pierced flesh. I heard scraping and banging, only for the flashes of light dancing into my retinas to make complete and sudden sense. My car had flipped, one hundred and eighty degrees and I was still spinning over the bitumen, the truck still not completely stopped. I must have hit my head again, because I lost all coherency after that.

When had I hit my head the first time?

I faintly registered a voice screaming in a high pitch of utter terror.

Was that... me?

As the car spun on its rooftop, a patch of solid red- red, red and more red! Hehehehaha- repeatedly swam in and out of my vision only to remain there as my car's progression was brought to a sudden halt. This made my abused seatbelt snap, with kinetic- oohhh~ ki-net-ic- force- I was flung into the passenger side door, which was probably reinforced with a solid structure- a wall?- smacking into it with my shoulder, which quickly crumpled, only somewhat halting the force of my head connecting.

I must have passed out or something but I couldn't open my eyes.

I heard many things; a panicked "Oh my god, oh my god!" Followed by a conversation that was too hard to focus on.

"Compress, compress, breath. Come on, please breath! Please, plea-"

I don't want to die.

"-e need a neck brace, multiple contusions, arm is bra-"

A steady hand pulled my eyelid open, a slight stain of hazel and an incredibly painful light before it was released again.

Please, I don't want to die. Please?

"-there is minimal pupil reaction. Possible brain dama-"

I wish I had done something.

"-hea... me... ca... you he... me?"

"need... defib... clear!"

'Something worth fighting for.

"no...sponse..."

I really don't want to die.

"...ti...eath...eight...enty-eight.."

Please?

And I lost all contact with the world.

...Warehouse district, 8:28pm, Thursday, 30th of October...

My name is Krystal Camerons and I died at nineteen, in a car-crash in New South Wales, Australia, with my whole life ahead of me.

...Place- unknown...Time- unknown...

I awoke. This was not what I had expected.

I mean, I wasn't religious, but I was never truly atheist. I had wanted to believe in a higher power that allowed us rest and happiness for our souls before we move to whatever they had in store for us.

I must have skipped that.

When I awoke, I looked around, twisting my not so painful body around.

The place was large, empty, grimy, dirty and quite possibly abandoned. I pushed myself up, wondering where I was. The movement caused a rattling sound and I quickly looked at my hands. The first thing I noticed chains? I thought. Huh.

The second thing I noticed was that I was shaking in hunger. It wasn't until all these things were acknowledged that I caught the major change.

I was tiny. As in child-sized.

I did, with much struggle mind you, stand up. The heavy iron manacles pulled at my shoulders, but I found that my body could handle it. Well, could possibly handle it.

I clambered out of the factory- great, MORE warehouses- finding that body was verging on self collapse. I sniffed, the smell of baking bread drifting through the air. Following the smell, I arrived at the baker's stall and found myself staring at the food, salivating.

I edged to the stall, entranced with the variety and smell. Looking at the stall keepers, I quickly decided to steal some. Snatching the smallest piece closest to the edge I tried to scamper away, but tripped.

"Hey! That dirty brat stole my bread!" I heard as I got up and fled.

I ran as if I had the hounds of hell on my heels, using my size advantage to avoid clawing arms, towering bodies and angry faces. Quickly ducking out of the heavy crowd and with a sharp turn into the alleys I ran into a solid mass of flesh. Hands grabbed me and I squirmed before a hand was placed, gently, on my mouth.

"Shush, they will catch you if you yell like that."

I stopped struggling, but didn't relax until he put me down.

"What did you steal to cause that ruckus?" He asked, seemingly genuinely curious. Not trusting him I gestured to my food.

"Ah. Are you an orphan?"

I looked at him, his brown eyes were seemingly guileless, but he wasn't someone I would trust. My gut told me that he wasn't what he seemed.

"W-w-what's it to y-you, mister?" I said my voice croaky and under-used.

"Well, I was curious. I am a doctor, you know." He gestured to follow him, which I did hesitantly. He didn't demand an answer, but despite my gut telling me he wasn't all he seemed, I felt he was trustworthy.

"I... I don't know if my parents are alive..." I half-whispered, yet he nodded in acknowledgement.

"Hmm, you wouldn't happen to know why you have chains on do you?" He asked. I shook my head, then winced a little in pain.

"Hit your head did you?" He commented, a hand running through his dark brown hair.

"Y-yes." I vocally stumbled.

"Let me see." He said. I walked slowly up to him again, scanning for malicious intent.

"I won't hurt you. What's your name little one?"

"Krystal." I said, "who are you?"

He chuckled. "My name, dear Krystal, is Dr. Tommaso Shamal. Nice to meet you."

"N-nice to m-meet you too, Dr. Shamal."

...

Italics are thoughts and personal emphasis. Comments?