Secret Santa

Broken

Ava opened her eyes the next morning, not expecting anything special at all.

Her bed was empty, just the way she was used to for a while now. She remembered the days she woke up to Michael, soundly sleeping beside her, not caring about the outside world. Since she had always woken up before him, she had used to watch him sleep, his face innocent in his sleep.

Shrugging off the memory and the tightness in her chest, she stretched her arms and legs. It was then, from the dull morning light that came from the outside, did she see the package in front of her bed.

It was the size of a brick, a small one at that. She smiled to herself. Her secret Santa had once again given her a present. It was wrapped in a sky blue wrapping with a red ribbon tied around it, just as usual. She took one glance at the package and figured that he had given him some nonsense again. After all, what could be in a box so small to lead her to freedom? It could be money, but she already had enough of it.

Still, excited to see what was inside the box, she hurriedly hopped down from a bed and drank a mouthful of water from the glass on her nightstand before grabbing the package. It was a little bit heavy on her hand. She carefully untied the ribbon, which had gold threading on both sides, decorating it in patterns of Christmas trees. She would add it to the collection of ribbons and wrapping papers from every year.

"Thank you so much, dear Santa." She said out loud to the room, though no one was near her to hear it. She unwrapped the package, careful not to damage the wrapping paper as she did. She opened the box and looked inside, only to freeze in terror as she beheld what was inside.

It was a gun. A small pistol, no bigger than her palm, but still it was a weapon. She had gotten enough warnings about guns when she was little from her father to be scared of guns, but it was not the gun itself that scared her. On top of the gun, there was a note. It was from the usual writing, and it only said "KILL HIM."

***

Ava placed the box inside the bed along with journals, never to open it again.

How it supposed to free her from everything, she had no idea. A murderer was not what she wanted to become on Christmas. And how a murderer was supposed to live freely from their own conscience and society was beyond her. No matter how much she hated Michael now, he had once been in love with her. His arms had provided her with safety when her father was taken to the prison. He had held her when she cried. She was not going to kill someone cold bloodedly for that.

Around the noon Michael came home. It was still snowing outside so when he opened the door, the cold air came inside with him. He quickly shut it down after him.

"Merry Christmas." Ava greeted. "If you are hungry, I've prepared lunch for you."

"Merry Christmas," he greeted back. "And no thanks, I already ate."

Hiding her disappointment and sadness, Ava smiled at him. "Okay."

He didn't look at her as he found his way to the bathroom. She noticed his uneven footsteps and flushed cheeks. The smell of alcohol was strong. He had been drinking. It was a rare occasion for him to be drunk. Actually, this was the first time she saw him drunk in the three years she was with him.

What happened? She thought to herself. Maybe Rhea had dumped him for good.

She sat down by herself on the table and ate her dinner, not thinking that much of him. After a while, he came out of the bathroom and sat opposite of her and helped himself to a toast.

"Didn't you eat?" Ava asked, seeing how eagerly he ate the toast.

"I didn't." He said, speaking around his food. "I just hate your cooking. But it's toast so it's fine. And I see you are not wearing that dress. You still have no taste. Then again, you don't have what it takes to pull it off." He eyed her chest with a smirk and she had the urge to cover herself with her hands.

Hurt. That was the only feeling she felt from his words. There was a lump forming in his throat. She set her own toast down and looked at him. "Tell me, Michael. Did you ever love me?"

He started laughing at her question. It started off as a small laugh and then it broke down to a hysterical laugh. Pieces of toast flew from his mouth and landed on the table. Ava felt her whole life crashing in front of her as he laughed and laughed till he was out of breath.

"Do you really think someone like me would fall in love with someone like you?" He asked, still shaking from laughter. He pointed a finger at her. Ava noticed that it was shaking. He was really drunk. "All I wanted was your fortune. Ah! I have worked for twelve years to make it all mine! And soon, it will be all mine. I am marrying you in two months, you know." He drew back the finger and wiped his nose.

Ava looked at him, her brow furrowed. "What do you mean twelve years? We've known each other only for four years."

He laughed again, nearly choking on a piece of toast. "You really are naive, aren't you?" His eyes were drooping. "It all worked out because you are a naive, stupid girl. All my family had to do was kill your mother and send your father away. All I had to do was hold you and whisper some nice things to you. It was so easy, you know. I just imagined you as Rhea and it all worked out."

Ava stared at him, her eyes wide. What? Whatwhatwhatwhatwhat-

His eyes closed as he sprawled on the table and put his head on the plate. Ava felt tears running down on her cheeks as she processed the words she just heard. Surely, she must have heard wrong. It got to be some mistake. Her mother had died of a fever. And her father was in prison for thievery. She knew he had no need to steal from anybody but still, she hadn't suspected it to be a framing.

How? How did the Rowbears manage that? How did Michael Rowbear, if he was saying the truth, kill her mother?

She sat there for a good while, silently crying. Her mother. Her gentle, sweet mother who loved her so much. Her mother who carried a secret. Her mother whose steps she decided to follow as she became a educator for children.

And her father who loved her mother so much, he became numb when she died. Still who had cared for her through his difficult times. Who had told her stories about the dark woods and what was beyond.

She got up from her chair and wiped her tears. A little ray of sunshine was peaking through the clouds, casting a light glow on earth. It had stopped snowing. She leaned forward across the table and slapped Michael as hard as she could, jolting him awake.

He looked baffled at first, but when he realised somehow in his drunken state that she had slapped him, became angry in mere seconds. "You f*****g sun of a b***h. How dare you slap m-"

"How?" Ava demanded, ignoring him completely. "How did you kill my mother?"