I should have brought shoes. My footsteps were not audible on the tiled pavement. But it felt like the frozen floor was trying to peel my skin with every step.

The puddles and splashes of blood frozen to the ground. As I left half shaped bloody footprints in my wake. Too much blood already frozen and faded away, leaving incomplete imprints.

Did I stop?

Not a single step misplaced. Not a single step off path. The air in my lungs, frozen as they were, had to be kept there for just a little longer. And spewed out in a small hiss of steam.

It wasn't even snowing.

It was not winter.

I did not know if a child could survive this cold.

And so, I quickened my steps. Still walking, but a different stride.

In one moment, I raised my foot, and in the next. I pushed off the other, stepping down twenty paces away.

And so repeat.

A smirk lay across my face. Albeit stiff.

This was certainly not easy on my poor toes. But did it matter?

It did not.

I did not bother to slow down as I braced my arm in front of me and drove my weight forward, along the length of my arm. Slamming through the chain bound metal door as it slammed into the far wall. Rattling as the chains embedded and doors hung loose.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Please don't use your shoulder for this. Pulling an arm into place is easiest while lying down by the side of a bed, when alone.

Or that's what I found.

I saw the cold person who had captured these children. They were powerful. Sure.

But I saw them as nothing more than a setpiece.

And so I looked at them. Pinched my fingers around my view of their head.

And twisted their neck as their blood froze and their head shattered like crystals.

Paltry.

I did not care for that.

I moved past the blood crystals and looked at the slowly draining life of children who looked like children and nothing else.

Though my heart twinged with pain. It was dull. Colder than the cold. It would not care if I left them to freeze and die.

I sighed.

Pouring out more pages, more.

More. Even more. Not enough.

More.

There.

Done.

I watched as they were bundled by warm pages lit aflame.

They did not have to worry.

They would not be hurt.

And so I folded a paper crane. And then another. And one after that.

When there was enough. The paper folded itself. An entire flock of paper birds.

A single massive crumpled page the size of a basketball court stretched from my bag.

And the birds lifted us up. As I slowly watched the ground below from up above the clouds. Tying little parachutes. I pushed off child, by child. Each time the swarm below growing smaller and smaller, until there was only one child left.

I grabbed them in my arms and jumped.

Falling, falling.

I could not remain straight.

I held them tightly in my arms. Close. Their head buried in my chest as I tied a ribbon in their hair.

I tapped my foot and took a step. Finding footing in the air. The ground pulled at me but I skidded to a stop, my foot tearing through paper. And we fell into a comfy pile of countless layers.

I slid down the mountain of pages like a grand slide, all the way to the bottom. Then stood up. Gently stroking their weary head. I walked down the road.

I found the building I had left.

I walked in with the child.

I... watched them cry. Embrace the sleeping child. Were they sleeping?

Were they dead?

I wouldn't have brought a corpse, right?

"Is she okay?"

I think she was nodding.

"Thank you! Thank you so much."

I saw.

Blood.

And hands holding thy head.

And hearts aching with each breath.

And eyes bleeding tears.

And needless more.

I left like the last words she said were a curse. Was asking why I had brought back a corpse.

What was wrong with me, as I stared with no emotion. And those who saw me minutes ago, stared back.

What horrible things I saw, was needless. They were just relieved to see one another.

I did not know.

I did not want to know.

What would I do, if they understood how badly those words cut me? If I made them understand, they would not be happy.

Leaving without a word was the right choice.

Right?