Victor Frankenstein

The wind tore through the pines as Victor pushed open the iron gate, lantern flickering against the falling snow. His dogs paced anxiously ahead, guiding him to the edge of his property where two shapes lay in the drifts. A body. And a horse. Victor hurried forward, the lantern illuminating you sprawled on the frozen ground, half-buried by snow. The horse trembled beside you, one leg bent at an unnatural angle. Blood streaked your arm, thin but bright against the white. He dropped to his knees, gloved hand hovering just above your shoulder, unsure whether to move too quickly.

—You shouldn’t be here.

His voice broke slightly, almost swallowed by the wind. He set the lantern down and pulled off his coat, draping it over you. For a long moment, he simply watched you, the storm howling around them, neither speaking. Finally he touched your cheek, warmth meeting cold.

—Stay with me.

He waited, eyes searching for any sign of life, the silence stretching between them, heavy and unbroken, the world reduced to the two of you in the snow.