Chapter 3: What Lies Beneath the Ice
Days had passed since they met —
Days of tension, fear, and hesitation.
Two lost souls drifting in a ruined world, sharing silence more than words, and listening to each other more than they spoke.
As usual, Lina took care of cooking and the shelter,
While Wild was thinking… planning.
The snow now covered the land without mercy,
The monsters were growing in number,
And the supplies in the area were vanishing like breath in cold air.
He knew the truth — they had to leave.
But how?
And where to?
These questions gnawed at his mind in silence.
A strange silence filled the shelter —
Not the comforting kind, but the type that resembled graves.
Lina sat, her eyes lingering on the photo lying on the desk —
The one where Wild appeared beside an unknown young man.
Time stretched in stillness,
Until she finally whispered,
"Who is the one in the picture?"
Wild's expression froze.
The sharp look in his eyes disappeared,
Replaced by something heavy —
Regret, perhaps.
He didn't answer.
"Is he your brother? A friend maybe?"
Her voice trembled with uncertainty.
He turned his gaze away from her.
His chest felt tight —
As if something inside him was pressing on his heart like a grinding wheel crushing old scraps.
But she asked again, this time louder,
"Wild… I'm talking to you!"
Suddenly, he shivered —
And exploded.
"What the hell do you want?!"
Lina froze,
Her breath caught in her throat,
Her wide eyes filled with raw fear.
It wasn't just his voice she heard —
It was something older, deeper, darker.
It was like the air had been sucked out of her lungs.
Memories —
Of doors slamming, voices screaming, footsteps that made her shrink —
All came rushing back.
She stepped back slowly,
Her hands trembling,
Her mind clouded.
She wasn't seeing Wild anymore —
She was seeing ghosts… shadows from a past that refused to die.
And then, slowly — not running —
She turned toward the bed.
Each step was heavier than the one before.
She seemed like a child trying to carry a mountain.
She sat down, curled herself under the thin blanket,
Wrapped her arms around her knees,
And folded into herself —
A frightened turtle hiding from the storm.
Tears built in her eyes,
But she didn't cry aloud.
Instead, she wept in silence —
The kind of silence that felt like a graveyard.
Wild sat frozen in his place.
Time, for a moment, didn't move.
Inside him, a battle ignited:
> "She didn't do anything wrong… all she wanted was to understand. Why did I yell? Why?"
"No, no… it's not my fault. It's just… a piece of my past, that damn childhood I never escaped…"
He looked at her —
Her small, trembling shape under the blanket.
He wanted to move, to go to her —
But something inside him held him back.
Until…
A sharp sting in his leg, a small cut —
Forced him to his feet.
He walked toward her —
Each step heavier than guilt.
He sat at the edge of the bed, and softly said:
"I'm sorry."
She flinched, inching further away.
But his voice grew tender,
Like warmth beneath snow:
"My family… wasn't really a family.
It was shouting, blaming, always loud.
Every time I heard a raised voice, even if it wasn't for me — I trembled.
I'm not making excuses.
I just want you to know… it wasn't your fault."
She peeked her head out from beneath the covers,
Her glassy eyes shimmering on the edge of breaking.
Seeing her like that made his chest ache with guilt.
She whispered,
"I've been through something similar…
Can I ask you something?
About… your crying at night?
And the photo, on the desk… if it's okay?"
Wild was silent for a long moment.
Then he let out a long breath.
He looked outside —
At the moonlight reflecting on the glass,
And the wandering creatures outside,
Like ghosts from a forgotten war.
And at last, he said:
"I'll tell you…
About a past I thought I buried,
About who I once was, and what I've become…
And about the man who made me this way."