Mum, Im hungry and I want to go out! the little voice of Brielle trilled again as she padded over to her father.
Andrew was midway through a cold pint of bitter and a round of frantic shooting on his computer. He had a crucial online match to win, and the incessant squeaks from his fiveyearold were driving him mad. He wondered when she would finally settle down and stop demanding his attention. His temper rose when she tugged at his sleeve, pleading for a moment of his focus. How old was she, five? She was old enough to make a bowl of porridge herself, yet here she was, a dependent speck while Andrew spent his evenings hanging out in the garage with his mates.
The distraction cost Andrew dearlyhe lost the match. Fury clouded his eyes. He shot up, lunged into the kitchen, grabbed a hardened slice of bread and thrust it at his daughter.
Take it and chew it, cant you reach it yourself? he barked.
Pouring a glass of milk from the fridge, he set it on the table. When Brielle reminded him that Mum always warms the milk, Andrew snapped that he wasnt her mum and that shed learned that long ago. He slunk back to his computer, hoping a full stomach would silence her petty pleas. But anger made everything worse. After a quick trip to the bathroom, he returned, only to find Brielle waiting.
Dad, I want to go for a walk. Mum and I go out every day! she whined, lips pursed.
Want a walk? Fine, go on then! Andrew said, seeing a perfect chance to be left alone. He rummaged through her wardrobe, pulling out a warm pair of trousers, a sweater, mitts, a coat and a hat. Hastily dressing her, he shoved her out into the yard and told her to stay there until he called her back. He slotted his headphones on, cranked up his favourite tracks, opened a fresh can of cider and resumed blasting enemies in the game, delighted that nothing would disturb him.
Brielle shivered in the cold. She remembered Mum always dressing her in cozier clothes for winter outings. The sun was long gone, and it was already duskMum would never let her out at this hour. She missed her mother terribly, longing for the warmth of her presence. Her lips trembled, and when she tried the door it was locked. To stave off the chill she began to run, but the snowcovered lane hadnt been cleared for days, so she stumbled. She tried to roll a snowman, but the powdery snow refused to stick, more like sand than snow. She even wondered aloud whether the snow might actually be cold sand.
She pounded on the cottage door, but no one answered. Fear rose in her chest. She began to cry out for her dad, but his silence only deepened her dread. Wrapping her arms around herself, she noticed the garden gate ajar and, desperate for any heat, slipped through, hoping to find shelter. She thought of the neighbour, Aunt Lucy, who often gave them fresh milk, but Lucys house was dark. Brielle knocked, received no reply, and assumed nobody was home.
She kept walking, the little cottage at the village edge receding behind her. Snow swirled, and when the gale turned into a fullblown blizzard, she turned, her eyes wide with terror at the white oblivion. She ran, gasping for icy air, shouting for Dad, while the image of Andrews angry face and his harsh wordsLeave me alone, Im not your mum!played over and over. Realising she was completely alone, she tried to shield herself from the wind that knocked her to her knees. The cold snow bit her skin, the biting wind slipped under her layers.
It was past two in the morning when Andrew finally remembered his daughter. He had been in the bathroom when a sudden bang on the window startled him; bare branches of the holly by the sill were frosted, howling in the wind.
Proper blizzard, he thought, then the horror of leaving Brielle outside hit him like a wall.
He bolted into the yard, calling Brielles name, but she was nowhere to be seen. Panic seized himlate night, a snowstorm, a missing childyet he tried to shrug it off, telling himself shed find her way home.
Assuming she had taken refuge with a neighbour, Andrew reentered the house, shivering from the cold outside. He told his wife, Claire, over the phone that everything was fine and they were already asleep. Their marriage had grown strained; Claire constantly reminded him of his dead mothers sternness, nagging him to get a job instead of wasting hours on games. Andrew dreamed of becoming a professional gamer, chasing the lucrative payouts hed heard about, and blamed Claire for not supporting him.
He collapsed onto the couch and fell asleep, leaving the front door unlocked just in case Brielle returned. In the early morning his sisterinlaw, Diane, burst in, furious.
Have you lost your mind? Wheres the child? she screamed.
Enough! Im not home Andrew waved her off, but she clutched his arm, pulling him to his knees.
Ill count every bone in you if you dont answer! he snarled, rubbing his bruised wrist. Diane, a former karate champion, was not someone to intimidate with words. She demanded, Wheres the girl? I came for Brielle.
Andrew stammered, She went for a walk yesterday, probably to Aunt Lucys. I didnt
Diane raced to the neighbours house. The elderly woman shook her head, pale, saying she hadnt seen the child. Diane ran back, frantic, searching every doorstep, but the snow had muffled any sounds. She finally dragged Andrew back to the kitchen, where he was calmly resuming his game. She pounded on his desk, tears streaming.
Where did you put her? Did you even think about it? she wailed.
Mymymy shell be fine, he muttered, still oblivious.
The police arrived, escorted by rescue crews. After brief questioning, they cuffed Andrew for abandoning a child in dangerous weather.
You have any idea what could have happened? the officer asked, disgust evident.
Later, the investigator entered the nowempty bedroom, holding a pair of tiny mitts found in the woods. Diane almost fainted; those were the mitts shed given Brielle on a business trip. The officer explained that only one piece of evidence had been recovered; the search was hampered by the deep snowdrifts.
Night after night the rescue teams combed the fields, but the storm had erased footprints. By dawn a call came from the district hospital: a girl, about five, had been admitted with partial frostbite and a suspected lung infection. Diane rushed there, heart pounding.
Inside the ward, a frail child lay under a blanket. A young doctor introduced himself as Dr. Samuel.
Is she your daughter? he asked gently.
Your niece, Diane whispered, tears blurring her vision.
The doctors say shes strong. Shell pull through, Samuel assured.
Diane held the girls hand, sobbing with relief. The girl, Brielle, whispered that a friendly dog had saved her, that a kind mans voice had called out, but she couldnt remember more. She begged Diane never to let her father near again.
The doctors diagnosed mild frostbite and ruled out pneumonia. Brielle would recover fully with proper care. Diane decided she would look after the child, becoming both mother and guardian.
Meanwhile, the rescue dogCharliehad been the one to find the girl. Dr. Samuel recounted how the dog, chasing a ball, had slipped on a sled and grabbed Brielles sleeve, pulling her toward safety. If Charlie hadnt been there, the outcome could have been tragic.
Diane thanked Charlie, We owe you our lives. Samuel invited her for a coffee, and as they talked, Diane realized she could no longer hide the truth from her sister, Claire. The truth would wound, but honesty was the only way forward.
Claire, upon learning what had happened, declared she would file for divorce. She could no longer forgive Andrews callousness. Diane promised to keep Brielle safe and to support Claire through the healing process.
Andrew, meanwhile, received a custodial sentence for child endangerment. He showed little remorse, still clinging to his gaming console, now a relic of a life that had crumbled.
Months later, Brielle, fully recovered, ran into the garden, laughing as Charlie fetched a stick. Diane, Samuel, and Claire formed a new, supportive circle around her. The tragedy had reshaped their lives, teaching them that neglect can shatter a family, but compassion can mend it.
In the end, the cold night taught everyone that a parents duty is not a game to be paused, but a promise to protectno matter how tempting the distraction. The true warmth in life comes from caring for those who depend on us, not from the fleeting thrills of pleasure.
