Golden light spills across the lawn. It highlights the pristine white underneath it, slowly fading into the inky blackness that swallows everything beyond the fringes of its comforting brightness. A figure stands in the shadows, a statue shrouded in darkness. It's watching the man and woman visible through the clear glass. Both are content, peaceful, in love. Neither cares that they destroys the lives of two innocent people. A small girl appears next to the man, clutching a large stuffed bear. He leans down towards her -- no doubt placing a fond kiss on her head. The faint outlines carry three steaming mugs over to the glittering jade branches, not noticing a shadow reeling backwards in pain outside. "Daddy, thank you so much!" She squeezes the teddy bear that's almost as big as her. He smiles gently. "Anything for you, princess. I love you. Now, where's mommy with out hot chocolates?" A grinning woman appears. "Did I hear my name?" She giggles as her father plants a loud smack on the woman's lips. "We love you mommy," he says. "And I love my two children," she replies affectionately. "Now who wants hot chocolate?" The eight year old girl gladly accepts the drink and eagerly bounces next to her father. "When are we going to open presents?" He kisses the top of her head and murmurs, "Soon, princess. Soon." A glistening droplet slides down pale skin, tracing pointed features that look so much like his. More liquid forms beneath the dark lashes. It starts to fall, leaving faint trails of black streaking downwards from glittering emeralds. You have your father's eyes… A strand of jet black slips in front of her face as she shakes violently, trying desperately to suppress the memories before they consume her whole. "Dad! Dad! I won the art contest! I can't believe-" She abruptly falls silent, halting in the doorway of her parents' bedroom. Tangled bedsheets. Thrashing, entangled limbs. And lots and lots of skin. "Y-you're not my mother. Who are you? Dad! Dad, who is this… this girl?" He looks up slowly. Not guiltily, but merely with the barest hint of shock. Crimson lipstick is smeared by his mouth like a stripe of blood, marking his betrayal. He doesn't even flinch; her shattered voice doesn't even so much as prick him. "I thought you were staying at your friend's. Linda's." "Her name's Lucy, and I just wanted to come home to tell you-" "Go outside." His voice is emotionless, detached. There is no hint of the tenderness she associated with him. "But… w-what about mom? Does she know?" As soon as the words flew out of her mouth, she knew the answer was no. Her mother would never tolerate this. "Oh yeah. Princess, could you give these to her? I need her to sign it soon. Brandi and I want to get married as soon as possible." Stunned into silence, she numbly grasps the papers he picks up from the nightstand and stumbles outside before glancing at the pages. Divorce papers. She has learned over the years how to cry soundlessly. So during the nights, when grief racks her petite frame, she doesn't bother anyone. No one ever notices. "Mom, dad wanted me to give these to you." "Hey, sweetie! My shift was just ending- are you okay?" She holds out the file, and her mother stares down in disbelief, lips moving soundlessly. "A-Are you going to be all right? Should I… should I stay?" "No… no, go to Lucy's. I'll be fine." Her mother attempts a smile but falters. "I need to be alone." She should've insisted. She should've stayed so they could talk it out, so they could've confronted him together. But she didn't object. She left her mother slumped against the wall of the convenience store, tears dripping from her eyes, like water streaming through shattered glass in a thunderstorm. The girl in the woods stumbles forwards into the snow. She watches the snowflake patterned paper and glittering ribbon scattered on the floor inside the large house. Her vision becomes more blurred by the second, and she bends down, watching her ebony combat boots blend with the shadows at the edge of the light. "Mom? Mom, I'm home." She peers cautiously around the door, furrowing her brow at the shards of glass scattered on the floor. The memory of her dad's car's absence and the tire marks on the driveway, coupled with the destruction of their house, casts the scene from earlier. It's so vivid that she can practically see the events that transpired when her parents confronted each other. Her mother screaming. Sobbing. Begging to know why he did it. Her father defending himself, accusing her of things she never did. She probably became infuriated -- she had every right to -- and started throwing things. Like the elaborately designed sculpture from their wedding night. Ornaments, carvings, reminders of a once-happy life. Her father probably became angry as well, leaving burnt tire marks on the blacktop in his haste to get away. He probably didn't give a second thought about the grieving woman he left alone. Well, neither did her daughter. She gingerly steps over the cracked bottles of alcohol to her mother's office. The air is thick with despair, and she shivers with dread as she slowly pushes open the door. Its squeak sounds unnaturally loud in the stillness. She had thought she expected the worst. But the worst is evidently better than what has actually happened. Her strangled gasps gradually succumb to hysterical, gut-wrenching sobs. Blood is spattered across the floorboards. A body is slumped against the wall. And, still clutched in her mother's lifeless hand is a gun, her finger still curled around the trigger. She extracts a covered object from a deep pocket stitched to the interior of her boot. Once revealed, its blade dully reflects the light cast from the house. No traces of moisture remain in her cold eyes. The rest of the memories flick by as she straightens upright and takes deliberate steps forward through the ankle-deep snow. Her once-beloved father not even showing up at the funeral, claiming to be too busy with work -- more like with his new wife. Him refusing to let her move in. Her being discarded into countless orphanages and foster homes, each one worser than the next because no one wanted her. Not anymore. Today is the day of freedom. The day she can finally live by herself, away from wretched guardians. From malicious adults. From the guilt and resentment that had haunted her since that awful day. She shuffles through the snow and taps on the glass patio door with a long, glossy scarlet nail. The blade is concealed in the sleeve of her leather jacket. "Hellooo? Daddy? I'd like to show you and your family something, out on your patio," she calls. Her voice contains an enchanting lilt, her smiling beguiling. "Would you come out here? It'll only be a minute." The little girl's wide inquisitive eyes fixate on the teenaged girl as she follows her reluctant parents outside. She doesn't seem to understand what's going on -- but then again, neither do the adults. Indeed, it only takes a minute. The girl smiles in satisfaction at the crimson seeping into the otherwise flawless coating of snow. "Daddy, I'm just collecting on the lives you owe, the ones you selfishly destroyed, with interest. You've caused so much suffering. Really, I'm saving you from the guilt that was bound to suffocate you one day." No answer comes from the three unmoving corpses lying on the ground. She saunters away, murmuring to herself, "Merry Christmas, princess. What a happy new year!"
IT'S STILL CHRISTMAS IN AMERICA I MADE IT Yeah, sorry if it's bad. I was really rushing it'll be the 26th in less than an hour!
^ It might have meant to be a compliment as on like, Omfg that's awesome I can't believe you wrote that wOW. I don't know.