In The Dead of Winter [antikvár]

I gripped the steering wheel in a desperate attempt to keep my car from sliding on the ice-covered road. My decision to leave the main highway had been a huge mistake. I should have realized that the weather would worsen the closer I got to Winter Break. The fury of the storm outside matched the tempest that raged inside me. I was going back to a place I'd abandoned years ago. A mixture of memories tumbled around wildly inside my head. Some brought back feelings of safety and love. Others reminded me of the person I used to be, the person I'd tried hard to leave behind. I finally eased the car slowly to the shoulder. Should I see the storm as an ominous sign? A warning that I was venturing into dangerous territory? I held my trembling hands in front of the car's heater, grateful my parents had given me their late-model sedan before taking off for China. The car was much nicer than anything I could afford as a lowly college student. I wasn't worried about it quitting on me, but I was definitely concerned about the worsening weather conditions. I'd narrowly missed two deer that had bounded across the road in front of my car. They'd probably felt safe, shielded by a thick blanket of white. Unfortunately, suddenly finding themselves caught in the glare of my headlights had destroyed their sense of security and frightened them only a little less than it had me. I wasn't sure if they'd heard me scream, but the