It was Christmas when you told me. You’d known for months, but you chose Christmas to say you’re going to college across the country. It was predictable, just the kind of conniving thing you would do. And because I love you more than anything, we fought. I don’t quite remember it, only that you screamed and I begged you to stay and you didn’t.

But I’m going to get you back. It’s gonna take more than a little fib to make me stop loving you. I’d look forever if it meant I could get you back. I can’t live without you.

So, like I promised, I’m looking. I’ve been driving for hours. Maybe it’s not even Christmas anymore. This is what it’s like, looking for you, Sylvie. Time matters not.

I drive forever through the desolate landscape of Christmas snow. You could have waited, you could have told me earlier, but you waited until you could spoil this perfect snowy holiday. You know how much I love Christmas.

But I’m still looking, because I love you, Sylvie. I’ve got the warm air on blast, Christmas songs on the radio, and if I try hard enough, I can almost imagine you’re there with me. 

It’s getting dark now. I’ve been looping around town, just in case I find you crying at a bus stop, heartbroken and praying I’ll take you back. You never make it far when you run like this.

My rounds have drained the gas tank. Most of the gas stations are closed, but the Seven Eleven has kept its lights on, a safe haven within our empty town. I park at the pump closest to the door and get out of the car. The cold hits me and I wish I had gloves. I asked you for a pair. You got me a scarf instead. It itches.

I insert the nozzle and stand for a few moments before becoming hateful of frigid air, and I decide to go inside. Maybe the cashier will have seen you. The doors slide open and I step through, running my hands over my cold arms. The cashier doesn’t notice me. I don’t notice her, either. I have no concern for other people when I’m with you Sylvie, and I will be soon, I promise.

I go to the back and grab a package of sour worms. You love sour worms. I know this because I know you, and I know we should be together. 

I put the worms on the counter and wait for the cashier to see me. I clear my throat.

“Have you seen Sylvie?”

She finally looks up. “Who?”

I sigh and avert my eyes. She’s useless. I make a point of ignoring her as she rings me up. Instead my gaze drifts to the security monitor behind the counter. For a second, it’s just me reflected back, grainy, and then a man appears behind me. He is wearing a trenchcoat and a white scarf, his clothes spattered with dark red. Blood? It’s surely blood. 

The man makes eye contact with me on the monitor. He’s taken you, Sylvie, I can feel it. Before I can open my mouth to demand what he has done with you, the cashier tosses your gummy worms back on the counter, breaking my focus.

“You alright?” She looks me up and down.

I glance back to the monitor, but it’s too late. The man has disappeared. I whirl around to face the store, searching for his slouched figure between the aisles. Where is he? 

I wouldn’t have lost him if the cashier could mind her own business. I- 

There! The hem of his tailcoat in the corner of my eye, caught just before he escaped through sliding doors into the snowy world outside. I’ve got to catch him!

I abandon your worms and scramble to my car,  climbing in and fumbling with the keys. There is a bus across the street. My car roars to life just as it pulls away. The man is on that bus, and maybe you are, too. 

I peel out of the gas station and down the road, my foot to the gas pedal, tailing the bus as it makes its way out of town. My head is pounding. I have to know where he’s taking you.

The houses are getting more sparse and the trees thicker. We’re almost out of town, and I’m barely keeping up. The bus has almost lost me. The pounding is deafening now, as if terrible fists are banging on the outside of my car.

The trees have swallowed us now, and it’s just me and the bus on the slick black road. I’m going to catch up to you.

The bus goes around a bend and disappears for a moment, and I speed up. I can’t lose you. I take the curve going sixty, realizing my mistake too late. 

My tires scream on the ice and the car swings to the left, careening off the road. I pitch forward, struggling with the wheel, and suddenly, I collide with a snowbank and slam to a halt. 

Everything is still. The pounding has stopped, but so has my car. I still have to catch you. I have to dig myself out.

I look to the backseat for something to use, and there, lucky me, is a shovel. I grab it, kick open my door and climb out. 

My back tires are almost completely embedded in the snow. It’s going to take more than the shovel to get them out. I throw down the shovel and go to the trunk. Maybe there will be something more useful inside, like a pair of gloves.

I open the trunk and suddenly, the world freezes around me. The snowflakes stop falling midair and the wind falls to a standstill, as if nature is holding her breath.

There you are, laying curled up in the trunk of my car, your pale arms crossed over your chest, your purple lips lifeless and cold. You stare out at me, eyes like black pits, a black and blue blot over your throat, a lovely red stain on your white holiday dress.

You’ve never looked more beautiful. I knew you’d come back. I knew you couldn’t live without me, Sylvie.