Secret Santa

Slap! Ava clutched her face as she fell on to the floor, the force of the blow enough to make her see the stars. Michael looked down at her, his face twisted with contempt and disgust. Ava looked away from him, gritting her teeth in pain. Anger coursed through her brain, forcing her tears back. How the hell was she supposed to live with this man for the rest of her life? "The next time I come, you better be ready." Michael turned around and left without saying anything else. Ava got up after sometime. She looked into the mirror and removed her hand from her cheek, examining the damage. His five fingers were clearly marked on her face, red and throbbing. She could see the reflection of her eyes, glistening with tears. They were tears of anger, more than tears of pain. Sighing, she went outside and took a handful of snow from the ground. It was still snowing. Where could have Michael gone in this snow? She suspected that he had gone over to Rhea's. That's where he always went, these days. His footprints on the snow were already fading in the snow. Shaking her head, she bought the cold snow towards her cheek, cringing at the stinging pain. She sighed deep. It was not the first time he had hit her and it was also not the worst of it. It was too cold outside so she went back in. The snow had melted and was seeping into her glove. She cursed under her breath and removed it, nearing the fire place and warming her hands from it. It was Christmas eve. It was not anything special, though. It always snowed in Asarca. On occasion, they would get sunlight, bright enough to melt all the snow that had fallen. In other days, it would rain, hard enough to flood the whole island. They rarely got outsiders, and the small part of the island which was habitant rarely left the island as well. Ava had heard that there were seasons in outside world. She had read about that in a book in the library. They were called autumn, summer, spring and winter. They got their Christmas on winter, on December twenty fifth. Apparently, on winter, it snowed all around the world. Ava had dreamt of exploring it all. Until Michael. Trying not to think about the curse and the thorn in her life, Ava got away from the chair. Her hands were dry enough to wear a glove again. She removed the other glove and placed them on the fireplace to dry them off as well. After making sure that there was enough food to eat for dinner, she went towards her room with a hot chocolate mug in her hand. It was Christmas eve, which meant she had something to do. She went over to her mattress and lifted it up, unravelling the secret compartment she had craved in it. Her bed was made from just one huge chunk of wood, chopped roughly from a pine tree. Her father had placed it there when they first added the extra room to the home after she was born. She had carved a hole in it when she turned seven, because her mother asked her to keep her journal hidden from the world, just before she died from a fever. As she took her own journal, she could see her mother’s old journal underneath it. She remembered the way she carved the hole, sobbing and wailing for her mother to come back while her father drank himself to sleep. Her mother had told her not to read her journal before, but she had read it. Thus, she continued her tradition. She wiped a hand on the old journal and sat the mattress down before going to her desk and opening her own journal. There was not so much on the pages. Each year, she would write about one thing she wanted the most. One object specifically, as she desired. She had found out that bizarre requests or multiple things would not work along the years. Every time she had written multiple requests, only the one mattered most was answered. One time she had wanted her father out of prison and when she wrote that, her Christmas gift was a hunting dagger, with a note that said sorry in ugly capital letters. “Dear Secret Santa,” she started, just like her mom had done before. She thought about what she wanted for a long time, her pen hovering over the paper. She wanted a lot of things. She wanted her dad back. She wanted the island’s people to love her. She wanted Michael gone from her life. Most of all… she wanted freedom. Since there wasn’t anything particular, she decided to rant off in her letter. Just getting it out of her head would help her sort out her life a little better than the mess she was living in. “So, my fiancé started to hit me, like, for two months now. He is going to this girl, Rhea, almost every night and I think he loves her. I am honestly afraid that he would take my money after the wedding and kill me somehow so he could be with her. A while ago he wanted to have his way with me but was so angry that I was not wearing the outfit he brought over. Its Rhea’s, I think, for it matches her style and is much bigger in the chest area. I felt disgusted to wear it.” “So, what I really want to say is, I want a way out of this life. If you can help me in anyway, I would be glad. I’d do anything to get out. But, if you can’t, that’s fine as well. I’d be thrilled to receive anything you have to give me.” “Yours, Ava Bellings.” Reading the letter again to check if there were any impoliteness in the content, Ava finished her hot chocolate mug. There was no sign of Michael returning any time soon, so she closed the book and once again put it under her mattress. She went to the kitchen to wash her mug and eat something before going to sleep. If she had looked back, she would have seen the shadow leaping though her window to her room.