I was abruptly awoken by the stiff sheets. The bed was like a bare, concrete floor. My bones ached from the harsh chill that enveloped my body. I expected the same intense heat I had experienced in the past months. I folded my knees towards my chest and slowly wrapped my weak arms around them. No matter how strenuously I tried, the numbing sensation prolonged. The useless blankets were thin layers of ice covering my body. Each and every hair across my body was standing on edge, goose bumps protruded from my arms and legs. My mother beckoned me to rise out of the bed. I unwillingly threw my leg over the side of the bed in an attempt to get up. My body weighed more than an anchor, pulling me down with every step I took. It pulled me down when I walked less than two feet. It pulled me down, all the way to the ground. The anchor had remained that morning, in the same way that it had existed every single day that summer. …show more content…
My clumsy and uncoordinated fingers, frozen like icicles, gripped the small black zipper of my suitcase. My hands struggled to grasp the small zipper. Once I secured it between my index finger and thumb, I slowly pulled it open. I dug for the nonexistent winter jacket and gloves, they were nowhere to be found. My brain struggled to comprehend my surroundings. I continued my unsuccessful search for warm clothes. After deciding that looking much longer would not be beneficial, I chose the most insulated pieces of clothing I had brought with me. I grabbed my thin, cropped leggings, a worn, heavy long sleeve T-shirt, and my Notre Dame