My room was always the coldest.

My hands were icy, I trembled like a leaf even when I curled up up into a ball on top of my bed and pushed my hands that felt like numb blocks of ice into my jacket pocket. The air was sharp and I could see my breath hanging in the air when I sighed. But I didn’t care. When I put warm water in the room it evaporated rapidly and the few drops that were left slowly chilled and converted itself into ice. At that point I couldn’t feel anything, so I didn’t care.

My room for me was my domain, where I ruled and no enemy could invade too powerfully. I was my own queen. It was my sanctuary, where I could pull of my mask and let the tears flow down before they turned into rigid drops of ice. It knew my secrets, my weaknesses, the one place I held dear.

My ice domain.