On the Altar

Chapter 4

POV-Mystique, age 20

24th December

It's Sunday.

 Christy and I catch the late evening flight to California, where my parents, grandparents and Chris will meet us in my family's beach house.  Mr. and Mrs. Mason are on a romantic cruise ship, which they got as a gift on their 20th anniversary this May. They will not be there for the Christmas Eve, but they will arrive at 7 in the morning on Christmas Day.

I decide to do a little Christmas cleaning and take out my trusty rubber gloves, cleaning liquid and other supplies. Christy sat on the couch watching my old collection of F.R.I.E.N.D.S DVDs which she started to binge the moment she had unpacked. She was watching the episode in which Rachel was in labor, but little baby Emma didn't want to come out just yet.

I ask her, "Will you help me with Christmas cleaning? Mum and Dad will be back  after Christmas and they will need this place squeaky-clean. We will be done a few hours before we have to leave." 

"You can do it by yourself. I have full confidence in you!" she says cheerily. 

I just roll my eyes and begin dusting the furniture in every room. Then, I mop all the floors and clean the bathroom, kitchen and toilet. I don't even realize it and it's noon. I go into the living room to check on Christy and ask her what she wants for lunch, but I find that the television is turned off and Christy is nowhere to be found. 

Then, I decide to go into her room, i.e. the guest room and find that she's throwing up her guts again in the toilet bowl. And a Pringles can in the dustbin. 

"Christy, why in the name of all that's holy did you eat chips for breakfast? That is not good for you! Why did I keep toast ready for you if I wanted you to fill up your stomach with this junk?" I scold her because she's behaving like a petulant child.

"Sorry, mom." she says and continues to heave. She gets up, rinses her mouth with mouthwash and flops on the bed. "I'm making lasagna for lunch. If you get an appetite, eat that. Not Cheetos from the pantry!"I tell her and re-clean her toilet.

I then go into the kitchen and make the lasagna I promised Christy. As it is baking, I decide to take out the trash. I wear my trusty gloves once again and clean the kitchen counter. I put all the paper towels used for that into a big, black plastic trash bag. 

I clear out the dustbins in all the rooms, keeping Christy's for last. When I enter her room, I find her fast asleep, snoring. I take a picture to tease her with in front of our families today.

I enter her bathroom to clear out the trash can, but remember her nasty habit of keeping empty medicine bottles and whatnot containers in the medicine cabinet. So, I open it to find that my family is just as disgusting.

 Dad's old razor, Kate's old acne cream tube, expired, Mum's old contact lenses liquid and Christy's old face cream tub. I shovel all of it into the bag and then turn around for the trash can, but I accidentally knock it over with my trash bag and all its contents spill out.

The Pringles can, I notice first. Then old tissues, layers of them. Then some old boxes of medicine and stuff like that.

Then, I notice a box.

And a stick to go with it.

Two pink lines on the stick.

I imagine two red marks on Christy's face if her mum finds out.

I can't help the disappointment and anger that course through my body.

How could I not see the signs?

Why did she feel like she had to hide this from me?

Even after what we went through last year?

I will love, support and cherish her no matter what decision she makes.

I met her 16 years ago, and swore to protect her with my life.

But no one can protect her from my wrath now.