Tell me what you think everyone! It's not the best but *shrugs* yeah. soooo. Review please!

"I'm cold…." A small voice said softly from the bundles of blankets she was wrapped in. The little girl shifted in her place and with a chest-wracking cough lifted up a pale white hand to brush her mothers smooth cheek. The woman gave a sad, small smile and tucked her daughter's hand back underneath the blankets.

Grief pricked at her soul as she watched her child shiver beneath the thick fur pelts. "Just, sleep my dear. Just sleep." She cooed.

"But, mama. I'm not sleepy." But even as the little girl said this, her eyelids drooped and a yawn escaped her mouth. "I'm cold." And then the little girl slipped into oblivion, where darkness consumed her. Her mother quietly stood and left the room, leaving her daughter alone to her dreams.

The tiny child tossed in her spot, wildly. She was trapped, barred by everything around her. It all was blurry and terrible. There was nothing, no one she could trust or hear. It was all a faint distant murmuring, as if they were keeping something from her. She let out a weak cough.

Each breath she took pained her, sending streaks of hurt through her body. When she coughed it always exhausted her. She just wanted to be better. And yet, sometimes she was. Sometimes it was alright, like an illusion. But it all came in fits. Fits that would last a few hours before she was normal again. Except for the cold. She was always cold.

It lurked behind every corner, whether dark or light, haunting her mind and slowly creeping up her body. They were sharp piercing claws that crept up her back to the point of numbness, where she felt she would never be warm again. At first it wasn't this way. In the beginning she could hardly feel it. But then it grew and spread throughout her. It chilled her to the bones, to the very essence of her being. She could not escape it. And slowly it tore at her life. Breaking the delicate string of her youth into strands that she desperately clung to. But those strands were getting harder to find, harder to get a hold of. Slowly, like the faint glistening snowflakes on a lazy day, she was slipping away into the black void.

If only she could feel the warmth of a fire, again. Feel its heat graze her skin with it's welcoming touch. If only there wasn't any darkness. Then she could laugh and play again with the other kids. But when she moved, it was stiff. Painful. Intolerable. So she didn't move. Why should she, when there was no more hope?

Her mother said she would be alright. That she could laugh again soon with out it hurting. That she could play with her daddy, and he could lift her up in his strong warm arms and kiss her. He used to visit her, giving her nice encouraging smiles. But then his visits lessened and he wouldn't smile for her anymore. Then his appearances stopped altogether just as her mom was slowly doing.

Maybe if she hadn't gotten sick, they would still love her like they did before and not just have sympathy. And maybe if she was a better little girl then she could give them love. But she was too tired to play anymore. Though sleep was not welcoming.

Dreams had become nightmares and nightmares reality. Everything was fading to nothing. So she finally let herself go, to a place where maybe she could find warmth and once again feel her parent's true, loving touch. Then she would be better and not a disappointment.