The Darkest Holiday

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

A short story about a mothers anger and the effect on the child. I know this is in memoir, but this incident is only based on an event in my early childhood, so not everything is completely factual. So the child in the story isn't really me.. Just based on me?? It's hard to explain.. Hope you guys enjoy

It was a lovely Christmas night. I was almost 7 years old, and that Christmas really was amazing up until a certain point. I had spent the day and most of that night with my Dad and we were with a lot of other family members, including his new fiancé's side. I had also received the fairy doll I'd been dying to own.. Literally dreamed of having. But the bad thing was, I had to go to my real mother, Andrea's house by the end of the night. My parents had joint custody. We drove to her house, saddened. We didn't want the joy to be cut so shortly. As we advanced closer and closer to the home of the woman that terrorized me, the thought of having to stay with her for even just a few days weighed heavily on my heart. 

When we pulled up to the driveway, I got out of the car reluctantly and very slowly. I said the usual goodbyes to my Dad and his fiancé before walking up to the door. I turned the knob, somehow surprised to see it unlocked. I waved a final goodbye and walked inside. The house was almost completely dark, except for the light illuminating the stairs that only got brighter as I creeped closer and closer to the witches lair, aka Andrea's bedroom. I stand in the doorway and see her sitting up in bed, looking pissed off as usual. The look on her face somehow contorts into an angrier expression. "What took you so long?!" She snaps at me. I look at the clock by her bed. It's about 10 pm. My heartbeat quickens. "I don't know.. I'm sorry", I say quietly. I sit on the floor next to her and smile, trying to change the subject. "I got the doll I wanted. Daddy got it for me". Andrea yells, "I don't give a shit what you got. Shut the hell up!"

At that moment I didn't feel scared of her yelling, like usual. I felt sad... Depressed. Wasn't Christmas supposed to be happy? Not just the fact that it was Christmas. Just that my mom was treating me this way. I sit there, silent. Andrea then starts yelling again. "Are you kidding me?! You're getting that glitter all over the fucking floor!" Oh yeah... I remember that on the back of my pink shirt are glittery angel wings. I don't reply to her outburst. I get up to go to my room... It didn't seem like she wanted me there anyways... "HEY". Andrea pulls me closer to her by my hair. I let out a screeching yelp, and then she pushes me to the floor. She pulled it so hard that it felt like my scalp was throbbing. "FUCK YOU. Ugh, you little bitch." The words hurt, and the pain of them never go away. But I'm relieved that it wasn't a punch. That doesn't mean it's not coming.. I eye the knife tucked under her mattress. I always had the fear that Andrea would kill me with it. Even at six years old.

Andrea continues screaming, and I just distract myself by looking at random objects. Her words seem so far off now. "HELLO?!?" I awaken from my daze. "You're useless.. I fucking hate you". Andrea punches me right in the nose. The pain seems off the charts. I try not to cry, and my throat feels unbearably tight. Andrea points to the door, implying that I need to go. "I'm sorry" I say, not even sure what I'm apologizing for. She doesn't answer. "Merry Christmas.. Goodnight". Andrea still doesn't reply. I go to my room, my sacred safe place. I cry myself to sleep. I just wanted to be with my Dad... To be happy and not scared all the time because of HER. A few hours after I fall asleep, I wake up around 2 AM. I went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. The pristine appearance I had only a few hours earlier is far gone. I have dry, disgusting blood all over my face with red eyes and ratty hair. 

I wash my face, and walk into Andrea's room. I try to be very quiet, like a mouse. I can barely make out her sleeping form with it being so dark. "Merry Christmas Mommy.. I love you", I whisper. I run back to my room and cry hysterically. That Christmas could not have ended any worse.

Submitted: January 21, 2015

© Copyright 2022 LiloChris. All rights reserved.

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Thank you
That's what I was going for
Worst Christmas ever :/

Sun, January 25th, 2015 3:52am

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