I'm fucked, she thought. Her tired eyes struggled to focus on the barely visible road through the falling snow and streaky windshield. The storm caught her by surprise as she left the party early, sending her down back roads to avoid the disaster playing out on the highway.
It should have been a fun night. But she'd let her melancholy for the state of things keep her from enjoying the time with her friends. The world was a mess. Everything around her seemed to be falling apart. She had slipped into a comfortable malaise, slowly pulling away from everyone and everything she felt let down by, compelled to spend her time instead impacting others far removed from her daily life. It was rewarding and good work, but she was human. The lack of personal connection was taking a toll. She hoped the night would help rekindle her passion for people and mend the bonds with her friends. But the topics veered uncomfortably into the very stuff she'd been fighting to keep quiet in her mind. It was supposed to be a time to reconcile, but she left feeling more isolated than ever.
The small hatchback responded well on the slick roadway. She noticed a large, rustic cabin poking through the treeline ahead. Gracefully lit for the holiday, it was the first she'd remembered for a few miles.
Her lights reflected off the large flakes. She squinted into the darkness ahead, trying to gauge the distance to the next turn. Feathering the brakes, she stayed on the gas to keep traction. Her pulse quickened as she dreaded the long miles before she felt the safety of her bed.
A quick rumble shuddered under the frame followed by a nothingness. She couldn't feel the road. The back end swung wide. Her mind raced as the horizon angled wrongly through the glass and the tires left the pavement.
She felt the car lurch. A weightlessness. A scream that seemed outside of herself.
Then a cold wind hit her face.
Darkness.
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Her eyes opened slowly as soft light flooded in. A dull ache floated through her head. Confused but warm, she realized she was lying down, covered by a blanket. She was in a large space. A vaulted ceiling with wooden beams tapered down to the stone fireplace nearby. Several large logs in the hearth were well charred, radiating a flickering heat on her face and filling the room with an earthen, smokey scent.
She glanced around, her vision fully coming into focus. The couch she rested on was opposite a pair of leather chairs, the table between them fronted by a large, plush rug beside the fireplace. Beyond, she could see the entryway with floor-to-ceiling windows flanking the double doors. A granite counter marked the transition to the kitchen.
Her head was still fuzzy, but she adjusted a bit, trying to diagnose if she was hurt. She pulled her arms out from under the warm blankets, shifting her legs. She didn't feel any acute pain beyond the muted ache in her head. How did she get here? Her mind struggled to recall the immediate past. She could feel her dress was still on but noticed her coat and shoes were missing, the coat draped over one of the nearby chairs.
As she began to stir, she noticed a figure moving about the kitchen, going in and out of view. She couldn't make out what he was tending to, though he cast a large presence. His wide shoulders and tall frame obscured what he was doing. His shirt had the sleeves rolled up around his forearms, efficiently stretching as he moved.
"Hello?" she murmured, the haze starting to clear.
As he turned into view, she was immediately drawn to the deep concern in his eyes. Bright, but worried, they were balanced by a sturdy smile. He moved briefly out of view then reappeared with a glass in his hand, heading steadily towards her.
"How are you feeling?" he asked in a soft tone.
"A dull headache, but I don't feel anything else wrong." She added, "Where am I?"
"I heard the accident. When I found you, the passenger window was broken and you were unconscious. It's very cold. The snow was coming down hard, so I brought you here to warm up."
"You...carried me?" she inquired. Noticing the jeans stretched over his legs and the way he filled out his shirt, she thought him capable of it.
"Your car's off the road about 50 yards away. I didn't know what happened to cause you to black out. Your coat was wet from the snow, so I put it up to dry." He spoke with a simple confidence, as if there was no other way things could have been. His manner put her at ease.
"Would you like some water?" He offered the glass.
"Thank you." She took the crystal from him, sipping slowly. "I don't remember any of that. How long have I been out?"
"It's been a few hours," he responded as he moved to sit in the nearby chair. "What do you remember?"
She tried to sit up. The cool water brightened her senses. "I just remember driving in the snow. The roads were slick. I don't remember anything after that."
"I'm glad you are awake. If you have a concussion it's best for you to stay up." He leaned forward closing the distance. His voice was still soft with concern. "Can I get you anything?"
"I'd love a refill." She reached out to him with her empty glass. He rose, eyes on her, as he took the glass and headed back towards the kitchen.
