Milk the cow.

Take the butter I made yesterday into the market.

deliver bread to Mr. Green.

Study.

Cook Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

The sun pours into my cozy room, but I'm already awake. I have been for a while now, thinking of my ever growing to do list.

I do not want to leave my bed and face the cold drafty house air. Instead, I stay in bed a minute longer, pulling the sheets my mother once made up to my neck. At one point they smelt like her, but now they smell only of soap.

Winter has a death grip on my small town called Hell. It is the northernmost city in the Commonwealth called Mandania. The snow starts early here and melts late.

Rumor has it that the union between the Motherwealth founders, and the Commonwealth representatives named our town Hell because they thought it funny to name such an inhospitable place, such a name. Have you heard of the saying, 'when hell freezes over'? Well, it does, every year. But that saying is from the past. No one uses words like Hell or damn anymore. Those fell to the wayside as soon as the Motherwealth took control and designed Commonwealths. They reinvented the wheel, some say.

Our Commonwealth, out of all 13, was often forgotten since we were so far removed. I suppose that wasn't the end of the world. The Motherwealth liked to take everything from the closer Commonwealths. Being far protected us. Lucky 13 didn't seem that bad when you fell in last peace... see what I did there.

The Commonwealths circled the Motherwealth like a shield. To protect them from what? I don't know. Just like I don't know about the other 12 Commonwealths. I suppose when people are fighting for survival, history and facts seem less important.

The timber smell from burning wood stove seeps under my bedroom door. It reminds me I'm wasting time. If I want to skate on the frozen pond, I need to move.

With a deep breath, I jump out of bed. The cold air hits my body, forcing a shiver up my spine.

Getting out of bed was always the hardest on cold days. It didn't matter how many wood fires were lit; a drafty house would always be drafty.

Quickly, I pull on a pair of tights that have way too many holes to count, then a pair of black thermals my brother, Kol, gave me for my birthday a year before. Finally, I slip on a black worn-out sweater to provide extra warmth, and, within seconds, the clothes heated me, like a cozy hug.

Content with my layers, I grab a burlap sack that holds my used to be white, now grayish, figure skates, then left my room.

Within the small living space held the kitchen and tight seating corner with a heavily worn couch and a chair which has springs that poked your bottom when you sat.

I wander over to the wood burning stove, holding my hands up to warm them. Normally Kol forgets to stoke the fire before he sleeps, so this was a welcomed surprise.

"I remembered this time, Telvi," Kol says, walking into the living space. His voice rough and deep, hinting he just woke.

My eyes look up to meet his soft gaze.

Kol is one of the tallest men in town and with his blonde hair and blue eyes, he was the most eligible bachelor, yet no girlfriend to show. He says he's too busy for that. I want to blame myself for that. He doesn't want to leave me just yet.

"It was nice waking up to."

"Almost forgot, but as I was slipping off my shirt at the end of my fishing shift, I realized the room was cold and the fire was dying." His voice trailing off as his eyes drift towards the stove.

He came home long after I went to bed. Once again, he was out working late. As if the Motherwealth didn't have enough fish...I swear. If we kept an ounce of what we sent out, we wouldn't starve out here.

"You got home late last night."

He nods. "Got a lot of fish. Didn't want to stop when we were on a streak."

We knew the truth in why he didn't stop. Cash. Longer hours meant more money. Something we were always short on. He did his best to afford the taxes and electricity on this place, but one person could only earn so much making pennies. I pitched in where I could by selling butter and baking bread, but I could only do so much as an under aged girl. When I turn 17 next year, I will be hirable. Then bills would be paid.

"You don't have to explain yourself," I reply.

Kol didn't always work so hard. We had parents at one point. But just like the fish, the Motherwealth took them too. First my mother, who lost her mind before Motherwealth murdered her. Then lost in sorrow, my father worked himself to death. Now it was just Kol and I as it had been for years.

He picks up my skate bag. "Going out?"

He never understands why I bear the cold in my own free will. 'This place is frozen six months out of the year. Why go out in it for longer than you have to?' he says. But he doesn't know what it feels like to be on the ice. With skates on my feet, it feels right, like it is written in my DNA.

I wasn't a beautiful girl. I was average height, average build, with below average frizzy white-blonde hair. Kol was by far the looker when it came to the Edman siblings and the town made that obvious whenever I was around. But when I was on the ice, I felt beautiful, confident even. I was good at skating, and I knew it.

"Yeah, I'm going out."

He smirks in silence. Judging me, no doubt. But he can judge as much as he wants, it won't stop me. Going to the ice was something as addictive as the caviar and fish we supply the Motherwealth.

Kol leans against the pealing wallpaper. "Please promise me you won't work too hard today."

His seriousness came off as a joke. I gave a humorless chuckle. "I will if you promise me the same."

Silence.

"Be careful. I heard it's colder out there than normal."

I nod then take my skates from him and leave out the front door.

The walk to the pond is a short five-minute journey through a tree line. It's a quiet walk, as it always is in the winter. The only sounds came from my boots crunching against the snow with each step. In the summer, this place is alive with dear and these little frogs we call Cheapers, but the winter scares them all off.

The edge of the pond approaches and I slide my foot against the smooth surface. A smile came to my lips as I sat down then pulled off my boots.

I don't care how the cold stung my cheeks. The ice is my home, and no one can take that from me. Not Kol or the Motherwealth. Skating is completely mine.

With skates on my feet, I stand and push off.

My blades scrape against the ice a little more than normal. My teeth rattle inside my mouth. It's bumpier this morning. Probably because the last snow fall melted and refroze on the ice. I don't enjoy it when the ice is in this shape, but I suppose beggars can't be choosers.

If I'm going to skate, this is the only place I can. There's no indoor ice rink. No perfectly smooth ice. No, that level of luxury is only for the Motherwealth.

I made a mental note to bring hot water with me tomorrow to smooth out the surface.

With strong solid pushes, I skate around the large pond. The cold air cuts into my clothes. Kol was right, it is colder than normal. It brings tears to my eyes, but I keep pushing through. The first few moments are always the worst anyhow.

My mother's voice echoes in my mind, encouraging me to push through the cold, telling me it'll get better. And it does. It always does.

Years ago, skating was something I did with her. She taught me when I could barely walk, showing me everything she knew. That was before she forgot who we were or who she was.

I skate backwards, then jump into the air. Mom used to call it a waltz jump.

She knew all the technical names for every skating move. They sounded funny, like made up words, but she insisted they were real. She was the best skater in town, everyone knew it. She said she learned through reading books. That was shocking to me because reading books didn't teach you to be good, no matter how many times you read it. Sorry mom.

I do another waltz jump, then set up for a simple one footed spin. A scratch spin. Don't ask me why it's called that. All that matters is for the spin to be perfect, centered. Today my spins need to be flawless because today was the day, I would try triple jumps. I just need to properly warm them up.

If mom knew how far I had come, she would be so proud.

"Hey Telvi! That looked like a good spin," Mr. Green shouts to me from the tree line.

Mr. Green had been our neighbor for as long as I could remember. He was one of the few who knew how well I skated. He was quiet and kind. He wouldn't hurt a fly, but I knew the rumors about him. They said he was a Motherwealth reject banished to Hell. Everyone stayed away from him, but I did the opposite. He had shown me nothing but support over the years.

"Thanks, Mr. Green!" I shout back at him.

He nods then adjusts his black felt hat. With that, he continues his way, up the small road towards the center of town.

I set up for a jump that Mom called an Axle. It was probably my favorite jump out of all the ones she showed me.

I push off the ice forward then land backwards with a smile.

Before long, I was attempting a triple, but with the bumpy ice and my tired legs, I didn't actually give any solid attempts at one. They were all what Mom would call 'pops'. Pops were when you jump off the ice but pull your arms out in midair, so you didn't actually have any rotation.

The whole thing put me in a sour mood, so when snow fell, I called it quits. Tomorrow will be better. This winter will be the season for a triple. I promise myself that. But with Winter halfway over, I worried I wouldn't meet my goal.

"Good practice?" Kol asks as I storm into the house.

He sounds like a broken record, asking me the same question every time. It doesn't matter if I wear a frown or slam the door shut, he asks the same stupid question.

Of course it wasn't great, there was a reason I slammed the door.

"Yeah, it was alright," I mutter, dropping my skates at the door then pulling off my boots.

"Hu, alright," he hums.

As I rip off my extra clothes, I notice it's warmer than normal. Kol must have stoked the fire again. But a warmer house means more wood burnt. Do we have that kind of money? Probably not. But instead of fearing whether or not we will have food next week, I just plop down on a chair to savor the warmth.

The warmth holds me captive for a moment. My stinging of my fingers slowly turns numb. My cheeks don't burn any more.

It is cold outside, Kol's right. I don't want to leave the house again but the bill on the counter is a bitter reminder that we have ends to meet.

Kol notices me staring at the paper, then hastily shoves it into his worn-out jean pocket before going back to scrubbing a pot that probably has the last bits of oatmeal in it.

That's fine, I would just get it from his pocket later. As much as he wants to protect me from the reality of poverty, he can't. Everything about our lives is a reminder of what little we have.

"Don't worry about it."

"It's a little too late for that. The butter I made yesterday should be enough to patch up loose ends."

"Thanks," he mutters, not taking his eyes off the pot he's cleaning.

That pot must be spotless now.

He isn't proud of the fact that he can't support us on his own. He is my older brother by nearly six years. In his mind, he should be the sole provider. It's a bit old fashioned, but I suppose it's hard not to be old fashioned when everyone in Hell thinks the same way.

"The Motherwealth keeps raising taxes, it's getting ridicules."

And they would continue to do so. As they have done time and time again.

"I also heard the electricity is getting cut again. Something about a downed powerline from the Motherwealth. I'm going to stick the rest of the refrigerator items outside in the icebox."

Guess I'm going to study textbooks by the stove light tonight. I loved squinting over firelight...

I stay by the stove for a few more moments before turning to the ding fridge, pulling out the butter in a small glass jar.

"I'm not working tonight, so maybe we can cook something nice for dinner?" Kol suggests as I slip my gloves back on.

I don't know what that means, but I like the sound of it. Anytime food is in my belly is exciting. It never felt like we had enough of it.

"Yeah, that would be nice," I say with a smile, then put on my hat. "I'll see you later."