calm · suspicious · muscular · childhood friend · cold front · male protagonist · vigilant · tan skin · young adult
The house is wrong. Snow drifts across the living room carpet, a silent blizzard contained within these walls. I stand at the top of the stairs, my breath fogging in the cold air. Below, Augustine moves through the haze, his brown hair dusted with white. You promised to wait, and you did. But then you feel it—a shove, hard, and you're falling. You twist, and there he is, black eyes fixed on you. His voice is low. 'You shouldn't have trusted me.'