5 years old
Elle had never celebrated Christmas before. Never decorated a tree, never hung a stocking, and most certainly never left cookies out for Santa. She'd never woken up early to see if she could catch Santa leaving presents for her, and in fact had never received a Christmas present.
She hadn't even really known about the holiday until she was five, when she'd snuck into Daddy's office and turned on his TV. A cartoon boy was decorating a cartoon pine tree, and she'd been so confused (itrees belonged outside/i) that she'd asked her daddy about it.
"It's just for Christmas, Elle," he'd told her, turning his attention back to the papers in front of him, and he'd sighed heavily when she'd asked him what Christmas meant.
"It's a day in December that some people think is special. They decorate trees, invite family over and exchange gifts. Elle, I am ibusy/i today."
She'd left it alone, but she couldn't help thinking that Christmas sounded nice.
She'd found out from someone else the date of Christmas – the 25th of December – and had found some paper and markers and drawn a picture of what she would want her tree to look like. On Christmas, she gave the picture to her Daddy.
He took the picture and barely glanced at it before dropping it onto his desk, "Elle, you need to get to practice," he said, instead of commenting on the picture she'd worked so hard on.
"But Daddy, today is Christmas. Can I help you instead?" Elle asked, reaching for a paper off of his desk.
Bob Bishop slapped his hand down on the paper, startling Elle, who pulled away so fast she got paper cuts on both her little palms. "I said go to practice," he repeated angrily, taking no notice of the quiver of her lower lip when she looked at the little cuts on her palms.
Elle went downstairs to find Mr. Bennet and get started.
She wondered if the blood on her hands would make the lightning hurt, like water did.
9 years old
On Christmas the year Elle was eight, her Daddy moved her into her own little room at the Company. It had a bed and a dresser and a big mirror along one wall. Now she was nine, and nothing had changed.
She slept alone in her little room, and sometimes her daddy tucked her in. Most of the time she just closed her eyes and tried to picture her daddy, kissing her forehead and tucking her in. Sometimes she imagined him telling her he loved her.
Daddy woke her up early Christmas morning. She was woozy from a too-high dose of lithium (at least they'd taken the needle out, and just made her swallow a little pill every morning now) but he didn't seem to notice and took her down to her practice room anyway. Her hand shook as she pointed, and when she made the little glass beakers explode, she thought the glass shards twinkled like Christmas lights.
11 years old
In addition to Christmas, there were all sorts of holidays she'd missed out on. Thanksgiving, Easter, Valentine's Day…birthdays. She'd had no idea some little girls got presents just for being born, and when she found out, she was instantly jealous.
Christmas was always her favorite idea though. Every year, she'd try to find a television to watch…she'd learned about Charlie Brown's Christmas, and seen animated Christmas movies about a deer with a bright red nose, and a snowman that came to life.
That Christmas, Mr. Bennet had a little girl with him…a little blonde girl, just like Elle, but smaller. Her daddy told her that was Mr. Bennet's daughter Claire, and she wasn't special like Elle was. Didn't have any talents like Elle did, couldn't shoot lightning like Elle could.
But she had pigtails and a little red dress with black shoes that clicked when she walked. She was eating a piece of white and red striped candy and holding her Daddy's hand.
Elle's daddy has never held her hand.
"Can I have candy, Daddy?" Elle asked, staring at the little girl from behind her father.
"You don't need candy, Elle. Did you go to practice already?"
Elle bit her lip and nodded. When she walked past Mr. Bennet, Claire broke her candy cane in half and gave a piece to Elle.
Elle hated her already. Probably Claire got presents on her birthday, too.
14 years old
For Christmas when Elle was 14, she tried to sneak out of her room to go to a store to buy her Daddy a present. She'd been borrowing money from everyone for weeks to prepare (it still counted as borrowing if they didn't know she'd taken it from their wallets, right?) and knew just what she was going to buy him. She'd seen it when Mr. Bennet had taken her into town – a book all about a King who could turn things into gold, just like Daddy.
She'd been standing in the bookstore, turning the pages and realizing that poor King Midas couldn't touch anything without it turning into gold and that his touch had killed his wife, and wondering if that was why Daddy had never hugged her, when Daddy had run into the store, yelling at her.
She'd left the book in the store and spent a week locked in her room. She wondered if her Daddy was as sad as the king in the story.
16 years old
"Would you eat dinner with me?" Elle asked, sitting on her Daddy's desk, hoping this would get his attention.
"I'm busy, Elle," he said, not even turning to look at her. "Please don't sit up there."
Elle jumped down, walking around the office, "Mr. Bennet has a picture of Claire in his office," she tried, looking at her father's empty desk.
"I don't need a picture of you. I see you all the time, you won't give me a moment's peace," Bob snapped, closing one manila folder and opening another.
Elle's smile wobbled. "Are you doing anything fun for work? Can I help?"
"You can help by igetting your own act together./i" Bob snapped, slamming the folder shut before Elle could peer over his shoulder. "Learn how to aim better; learn to control your electricity better. Go practice, and leave me alone."
Elle used her electricity to break the TV in her father's office on the way out.
Christmas movies lied.
18 years old
When Elle was 18, she broke into Level Five and looked in each and every glass window until she found a boy she thought was cute. She stood outside his window until he looked, and then she pulled up her shirt just enough to show her toned stomach.
When she was sure she'd get what she wanted, she zapped open his door and let the boy take her virginity on his little cot that looked exactly like hers. It was no good for her, but blood didn't bother her anymore.
Later, as she gingerly slipped her pants back on, ignoring the aches, he asked her what she was doing.
"Merry Christmas," she said instead of answering, welding the door to his cell closed on her way out and marching back to her room.
20 years old
Since Elle was 20, sometimes her Daddy let her take a car and go into town alone. She could go shopping for clothes or walk around the mall and pretend to be normal.
She bought a little red sweater with snowflakes on it, and then went to the grocery store. She picked out the ham that said "Christmas Ham" and a whole box of candy canes.
The candy canes were gone before she got back home, and she couldn't find anyone to help her cook the ham for dinner. But she wore her little sweater around the Company and pretended like she didn't want to cry.
There was nobody fun trapped in Level Five that year, so Elle went to bed instead.
22 years old
On December 28th, Elle realized she'd forgotten about Christmas. Daddy had been talking about letting her go on an assignment with Mr. Bennet, and she was anxiously trying to prove that she would be good enough. She spent all day practicing her lightning, she even learned how to fold her fingers like a gun and shoot just out of her pointer finger.
Elle was a little sad that Christmas was over without any sort of acknowledgment from her, but there were more important things in life than the holidays and besides, she didn't have anyone to invite over or exchange presents with anyway.
25 years old
Elle's entire apartment was covered in Christmas lights, and she had to bribe a teenage boy on the street to help her carry her Christmas tree up the four flights of stairs to her little apartment because she couldn't lift it on her own. When she'd finished decorating it, she could hardly tell there was a tree under there, and instead it looked like the Christmas aisle at the store exploded in the corner of the apartment.
She was twining garland around the chairs in the kitchen when he came home, sneaking up behind her to kiss her neck before cupping his big hands over the swell of her stomach, waiting to feel their son kick hello.
"Still decorating?" Gabriel asked with a smile, as Elle turned around in his arms to kiss him hello properly.
"It's Christmas," she reminded him.
Later that night, she laid in his arms while she watched every single Christmas special that she could find on TV.
29 years old
"Noah, Noah," Elle shakes her son awake at 4 in the morning, and Noah blinks sleepy brown eyes at his mother.
"Noah, Santa came," she tells him, excitement evident in her voice, and she and her son go back to wake up his Daddy.
"Daddy, Santa came!" Noah shouts, bouncing on the bed until Gabriel tugs the sheet back from his face, groaning.
"Mommy woke you up, didn't she?" he asks, but he can't be angry with either of them, and instead pulls on a T shirt and sweats over his boxers and comes downstairs to watch Noah rip into the monstrous pile of presents Elle has arranged under the tree for him.
"Mommy, this is the best Christmas ever!" he shrieks, gleefully running around the room, clutching a new toy car in one hand and his airplane in the other.
Elle looks absolutely giddy, curled up in the corner of the couch with her robe tucked around her and her hair in complete disarray.
"Yeah," she says, glancing over at her husband, who has fallen back to sleep with his mouth hanging open, "Yeah, Noah, it is the best Christmas ever."