Chapter Sixteen
Fourteen years old
“This is for you,” Chris says, handing a poorly wrapped present to Alex with the brightest smile on her face it could rival the stars. He takes it, replacing the gift with his own. She squeals excitedly as she tears into the Christmas paper, throwing it onto my bedroom floor.
She stares down at the framed photograph and then clutches it to her chest. I peek over her shoulder when she pulls it back to look at it again.
It’s a picture of Alex and her last month, ice skating around the local rink they erect as a mini Winter Wonderland. She’s dressed head to toe for winter; bright pink knitted gloves and matching scarf, a white woollen hat with a pink pompom on the top, and matching pink leg warmers tucked over black leggings and disappearing into the ice-skates.
Her hand is linked with Alex’s, who’s wearing ripped jeans, a thick navy jumper, and a grey scarf thrown around his neck. They are both smiling at each other as the picture was taken mid lap by me when I stopped to watch them both.
The photo is the cutest and Chris absolutely loves it.
Alex opens his gift from her, his face beaming just as much as he removes a Mickey Mouse watch she had chosen nearly half a year ago, after seeing it in a shop and insisting she had to get it for Alex since he’d told her his favourite Disney character was the mouse.
He leans to drag her over scattered tissue and ripped paper and brings her in for a bone-crushing embrace. She buries her face in the crook of his arm, laughing as he squeezes her tighter and tighter.
“Stefy said you wouldn’t wear it cause it’s for babies,” she murmurs into his arm. Alex shoots me a look and growls disapprovingly.
“Your sister’s dumb. Don’t listen to her. I love it and will never take it off, I swear.” He holds out his pinky finger, making her a promise.
Chris laughs and tugs on his fingers with hers once, then moves away to fix herself by my side, straightening the pretty velvet red dress she’d chosen to wear for Christmas, pulling the skirt down to cover her cross-legged knees.
She passes me my gift, dropping it onto my lap as Alex hands over the one he got me. After spending all her money on Alex’s watch, she had chosen to make me an angel made out of an old toilet roll tube, brightly coloured card, and a paper doily for its wings. She had stuck black string on for hair and tied a single gold strand around the top for its halo.
“It’s a Guardian Angel,” she says sheepishly, stroking her fingers through its hair. “It’s meant to be you.”
I look back at the crafted Angel and notice she’s got bright blue eyes and big red lips. I put the doll on the bedside table and hug her hard, wincing as she bumps her head into my cheek.
“I love it, munchkin,” I whisper into her hair and reach up to rub the fresh bruise. For the first time, Dad left an intended mark somewhere visible. I guess maybe ’cause it’s the Christmas holiday, it would heal before any teachers would see.
“Okay, mine now,” Alex says, pointing at the green wrapped box. I tear off the paper and open the lid to reveal a small silver ‘S’ on a dainty silver chain. I stop breathing and look at Alex, who has a boyish grin on his face. “It’s from both Mac and me.”
I lean over and kiss his cheek.
Dad’s drunk again.
More surprisingly, he managed to stay relatively sober for a couple of days following Christmas Day. But now it’s approaching New Year’s Eve, the day mom decided to leave all those years ago. ‘New year, new me,’ I guess.
“Stevie,” Dad slurs from his office as he hears me walk past. I step back toward the door, pushing it open and find him looking out the large window, with a glass full of whisky hanging loosely in his hand. “Your brother will be joining your mother for a few weeks in the new year.”
I stare, looking neutral, as I don’t care why he’s telling me this or why I’d need to know. I didn’t care what Ronan did with or without our mom.
“Okay,” I say, taking a tentative step into the office. The room smells stale, like he’s not left it to shower or opened a window in days. Just sat alone in the musty darkness, drinking himself into oblivion.
“Apparently, the bitch still wants to keep her relationship with her son, but not with her daughters.” He sneers, still facing the window. “Doesn’t stop her from leaving the bastard here when she has no use for him, though. Maybe if you and Chris weren’t such disappointments, she would have stayed.”
He’s trying to hurt me, but it won’t work. He’s said worse in the past about how our mother never loved us, never wanted us, and that he begged and begged for her to keep us. I barely remembered her, and no matter what poison Dad tried to feed me, no one could be as bad as the drunk abuser standing across from me.
I reach up and touch the ‘S’ pendant, thinking of my chosen family. Dad turns and puts his glass on his desk, his eyes gleaming with loathing as he looks at my hand.
“That from your boyfriends?” he jeers, trying anything to get a rise out of me. “Always knew my eldest would be a whore fucking two boys at the same time.”
I shuddered at his harsh words. Alex, Mac, and I were just friends, and I had no interest in having sex with anyone. Dad’s lips turn up in an evil grin as triumph washes over his face. He walks to stand in front of me and reaches for my necklace.
I bat his hand away without thinking, and just as quickly his fist is in my hair, yanking it back and making my head face up. I hiss at the pain as he pulls the strands harder, and I try to get his grip off me. He grabs my chin in his other hand and squeezes it so tight that my jaw starts to hurt.
“Did you just try to stop me?” he snarls, letting go of my chin and dragging his hand down my throat, taking my necklace in his fist and tugging hard, snapping the chain at the back of my neck with a sharp sting.
“Such a pretty little trinket,” he says, holding it up to the light of the fireplace, the metal glistening as it spins mid-air.
Suddenly, we are moving, him still clutching my hair in a death grip as I try not to let out a whimper, but I can’t stop the tears welling in my eyes.
He leads me into the bathroom across the hall and pushes me to my knees. The tiled floor cracks my knees at the force, and this time I do cry out. I watch as he lifts the lid to the toilet and dangles my necklace over the water. He laughs as he releases some of the chain, causing the ‘S’ to drop lower.