December, the worst month of Vermont, frosted hair and fingertips the moment your body reaches outside. Brushing your car out of mounds of snow just for it to not work due to how freezing it is. I lay curled up on my couch, trying to keep warmth whilst watching snowflakes dance out of my large rectangular window. Although I’ve seen the most beautiful views here, nothing is as gorgeous as snowfall to me. The way the sky slightly brightens as if the snow is a light, even if it is 2 am the atmosphere does not replicate the time. I live around no one, I have no family. Not anymore, at least. Both my mother and my father were being buried under a gravestone by my early 20s. That's how I have this beautiful house at such a young age, although there is no one else to fill the void of emptiness of the huge rooms. Only one person needs so many square feet of living space. I never wanted to sell it due to it being my parents only huge asset. It kept my heart close to them, made me feel whole and nostalgic in my loneliness. 

Growing up in this house has made me realize that I was very content with feeling alone at such a young age. Once you hit your teen years you realize that loneliness is a key to peace. Instead of constantly being around people, I would rather curl up and read a book. But now that I’m 31, loneliness is the epitome of death. Even though I know every nook and cranny of this place, my perspective has changed. I began to see the wallpaper peeling, dust forming. I wish I cared enough to fix it, but nostalgia is getting the best of me. I turn on the TV, expecting to see nothing but adult cartoons and midnight news. This time, something is different. A broadcasting news channel announces the escape of a killer from the New York State Penitentiary. I'm intrigued, I'm always intrigued when it comes to crime. Specifically asking myself, Why? Why would someone ever do such vile things? Triple homicide is what the news reporter said. I look at the picture. Scratchy beard, kind eyes, on the taller side. Sometimes the people that dont look like killers are always the ones to look out for. New York isn't that far from Vermont, my heartbeat quickens. But then I quickly calm down due to the fact that I live in the middle of nowhere. No neighbors, barely any gas stations. If I wanted to order any food to deliver it would be from a pizza place that is still 20 minutes away at least. It is just me, the woods, and my house. Although to some that would be extremely unsettling, at this point in my life I’m used to it. 

I get out of my head and look back up at the TV. How does one escape a prison? How do guards let a triple murderer escape? Where do you even go after you escape? I wonder if he has a plan. I wrap the blanket tighter around me and change the channel. There is only so much talk about crime I can handle in one day, although it does immensely spark my interest. I wish I had someone to call and talk about this with. I want soup, so I head to the kitchen. Outdated tiles fill the walls, a gas stove and a toaster oven, because who needs a microwave? I open the cupboard, grab a can of tomato soup, and begin to cook my soup. I am eager for that delicious, creaminess of tomato. I hum to music in my head which makes me realize I need some. I turn around and head for the tv to change to one of my MTV channels. I turn the TV on, click through until I find perfect dancing music. Not singing music, dancing music. I twist and turn around my living room as the smell of tomatoes gets stronger. I try to make these moments where I’m stuck in a snowstorm in my house the best as possible. I remember when I was younger, dancing with my parents…

I realize, when did I turn my TV off? I’m in my own head, I swore I don't remember turning it off. I guess my brain was so hazy from the thought of soup that I had turned it off out of habit. I turn the TV back on and head back to the kitchen, swaying from side to side. I love music, I’ve always loved music. It puts me in some sort of trance, trapping all the anxious thoughts out. It's not like I have anxiety all the time, just occasionally when I feel as though I'm enclosed in my own mind. But, with the music this loud, nothing can override it. I pour the soup into a clay bowl I made in fourth grade, which although I hated when I was younger came in handy once I was an adult. My music shuts off. What? The TV, completely off. I spin around almost splashing the soup all over me. What? Thinking back to the first time my TV was off, it wasn't in my head, I actually didn't turn it off. Was my power finicky? No, no way, none of the lights were off. Plus, it would be obvious if my power was out. 

My heart rate picks up and my breath quickens. I frantically looked around but for what point, obviously if there was someone around me they would hide. What do I even do? Wait, I’m in the kitchen, I grab a knife. That’s really the only form of self defense I have right now. I am not built to try to throw myself off of someone. But am I strong enough to use this? I’m shaking, I need to calm down. I know I shouldn’t walk around my house. It’s way too large and way too dark to walk around. I look around my kitchen, god I wish I lived in a time of landlines being normalized. Where is my phone? I left it in the living room. Dang it, of course. Although it was so close to me, my body felt frozen almost as if I was reflecting the weather outside. I walk to the living room to grab my phone. Of course it's not there, what was I thinking? This is common, almost as if it was formatted! My mind is spiraling. I'm spacing out, wake up! What should I do, leave? I look out, not in this awful weather. I’d have to spend hours digging out my car. How did he get here? I mean who else would it be? “Hello?” I call out, no answer. Obviously, why would anyone respond to that? You would have to be really crazy to respond. I grip the knife tighter, there's a light switch for the living room and dining room right next to me. I flip it on, adding another piece to the puzzle. More space that I can fully see. I creep through the dining room, a long hallway awaiting me. There are at least six separate rooms down this hallway. He could be in any of them. 

My skin crawls, I feel paranoid. I start looking all around the room, as if he were in there! The room is completely lit, of course I would know if he were there! My paranoia is getting the best of me. I begin down the hallway, holding the knife out in front of me like someone in a fencing tournament. I turn left, then right, it doesn't seem like anyone is in the room. Okay, next set of rooms, left, right, wait, left again. The windows open. Well no wonder he got into the house! How did I not hear that? I guess the music drowned it out. I clear the room, my hand still trembling. Nope, not here. Why would he be there? Anyway, the final set of rooms. Left, right, oh no, is there something behind that curtain? I walk towards the curtain, my anxiety uplifting my heartbeat. I pull it back slowly, okay, there's nothing. I’m freaking myself out, I turn around, my heart stops. Smile on his face, standing there with an ax in his hand. My brother, Daniel. 

I have always grown up with the mentality of an only child. I would play alone, finding my own little imaginary world without a secondary point of view. After the sending off of my brother to the house for troubled children, my memory had faded. But, seeing that face, every living moment with him flooded back into my head. My brother had problems that created these unsettling walls throughout my family. He was never a sweet, poster child. He was mischievous and would test the waters starting as young as 7 when he killed the family guinea pig. He was my brother and that gave me the obligation to love him, but I could only to such a certain extent. He was never kind to me which caused a division between us. We were never very close and we never were. So, when he went away, I thought nothing of it. Sure I recognized the face on TV but it felt surreal. I knew he did petty crimes when he was younger but really, that severe? Never in my life could I think he could kill one, two, even three people.

He creeps towards me with an unsettling smile, I tense up. The fight or flight in me wants to run, but I feel stuck. The knife pointed directly at him, I’m waiting for the first move. I go back to the puzzle in my head, putting the pieces together and solving the issue. I was always faster than him when we were younger, so I decided to make a run for it. There is a big enough gap between the bed and him for me to run past. I bolt and although it's really not quick at that moment I feel as fast as lightning. I make a quick left and run to the end of the hallway, to the creaky old attic. Cobweb filled, hasn't been renovated in decades, disgusting attic. What am I doing? I slam the door shut and look around for a place to hide. For having such a tall stature, Daniel was not strong. I hear the banging, trying to break it down. I pray that it at least takes a couple more tries. I chose my hiding spot, a couple big boxes. 

Catching my breath, I lean against the hard wooden wall. This part of the house felt completely different compared to the others. It's cold, it's quiet, I’m quiet. The door breaks, I jump at the loud noise. Thump, thump, thump. Footstep after footstep, parading the room, I hold my breath. I hear his heavy breathing coming closer and closer to me, I slam into the boxes I’m hiding behind. He falls back, I feel success. I bolt down the stairs, trying not to trip, running into the living room. Where am I going? I look out the window facing towards the car, wait a minute, that car doesn't work, dang it. I hear him coming towards me, I run towards the basement, trying not to tumble down the stairs. Its pitch black, I can't see anything. 

I have my phone, but is the flashlight really a good idea? I put my hands, and the knife, out in front of me and just started walking, hoping I didn't hit anything. I step and step and step, no wall being hit. I found something, a shelf. I grasp onto it and see if I can step around it. I hear footsteps from upstairs. I pinch my body in between the shelf and the cold wall. I'm breathing so heavily, I need to calm down, a light turns on. I look into the middle of the room, the one section I missed, I see my brother tied to a chair.

I start shaking, adrenaline and confusion rushing through my veins, I look up. The person who was chasing me, wasn't my brother? But he looks exactly like him? “Who are you?” I scream. The man, standing there looking almost as if it were through me, ax in hand, smiled creepily across his face. He drops the ax, and brings his face to his chin. Slowly but surely, the skin is peeled. Inch by inch, I see the burn wounds under the mask. My mind flashes back to the news, 12 year old burns house down, not charged due to insanity, admitted to mental hospital. My brother didn't just leave for any reason. He got mad one night, ran out of the house with matches and gasoline. My parents were asleep, I was so terrified I didn't tell them anything. The next morning, they find that my brother is gone and there's a new tragedy in our small town. He was gone, sent away, erased, until now. The mask comes off, the man with burn scars on his face stares at me. Why am I being punished for the crime I didn't commit? I keep my knife out, he picks his ax up. He inches towards me, I’m trapped in the small corner of my basement, helpless. I panic, the walls feel as if they're closing in on me. I close my eyes and swing. 

I sit on my couch, looking up at the tv as the news continues to look for the missing prisoner. Blood stained on my clothes and in my hair, a sense of relief washes over me. A smile forms on my face, I laugh, knowing they’ll never find him now. The bodies? Gone, buried. What are they going to do, actually search for him? In the miles of endless trees and twisting paths that lead to just another loss. Eventually they’ll give up, thinking he's fled the country. Thank god my parents changed our names to hide from the fact that he was actually related to us. No one ever expects the house in the middle of the woods.