No, I can’t think about what happened the last time I was here. I can only think about what turns I made and which hall I wandered down. As I see the grand staircase, I remember that I didn’t go up this way but on the other side of the house. People smile at me as I pass them, and I nod politely, working my way through.
People are laughing, and there’s piano music somewhere in the distance, accompanied by a group singing Christmas carols. It’s hard to not wonder if I’ve somehow stepped into Santa’s workshop with how Christmas has exploded in here.
I’ve never liked this holiday, even as a child. I lost my mom when I was six, and Christmas was the last happy memory I had of the day. After that my dad married my step-monster, and they had my half-brother Paul, who was my living nightmare. My father died when I was in college, and I severed as many ties as I could with my father’s wife and Paul. But for whatever reason, my father put her in charge of my trust, and she loved to pull on the strings. Over the years I had to go out and make my own way in life because I refused to ask her for a dime, even though it was my money.
It took a long time, but we came to what I considered a quiet agreement. I would stay out of her life, and she would leave me alone. But I think over time she realized how much joy she took in tormenting me and liked to throw things my way. Like the invitation to Paul’s wedding. I wasn't planning on going, and I don’t think she expected me to show, but the thought of seeing the look on their faces when I strolled in late was almost too much to pass up.
That night didn’t go how I planned it. I wanted to piss my stepmother off and irritate my brother just with my presence, but then I saw…her. After Paul hauled me out of the room, he’d somehow gotten charges of international fraud brought up on me and my business. I was tossed in a cell without access to anything in the outside world, and it almost drove me mad.
Every now and then, Paul would visit just so I could see the look on his face. He was so fucking smug as he would come in and talk about his wife, and the whole time I remained silent. My stomach churned, and I’d want to throw up, but I refused to give him what he wanted. He wanted me to lash out and react to his taunts, but I gave him nothing. I would sit in my cell like the stone it was made out of and stare blankly at nothing.
I didn’t keep up with the days, because sometimes it would be too long between seeing light. I couldn’t even figure out what time of year it was for a long time until I’d catch a guard taking off a jacket like it was cold outside. There was a part of me that wanted to die in that cell, but then I’d think of her, of my Jillian, and my heart would somehow beat again.
Years passed, and I never thought that my time would end until two weeks ago. A guard came to my cell and swung the door open wide, telling me my time had been served. I didn’t understand any of it, but I wasn’t about to question it. The second I walked outside there was a car waiting with a note inside from my attorney. It said my stepmother was dead and my trust was broken, leaving me as sole owner of it. Whoever was paying to keep me here had run out of money, and the agreement to lock me behind bars was null.
I wanted to sit in the back of that car and weep, but I’d held on for so long that I wasn’t about to break now. Not when I was finally free.
After that it took me two weeks to get back home and figure out my next steps. I essentially had to bring myself back from the dead and then make some calls. If Paul thought he could get away with tossing me in a cell, then he had another think coming. I plan on tracking him to the end of the earth and making him pay for what he’s done. Once I find Jillian.
The set of stairs I remember are at the end of the hall, and I take them two at a time to reach the top. My heart pounds in my chest as the familiar hallway leads to the golden door at the end. I’ll never forget walking into that room, or being dragged away from it.