freedom from christmas

One day I'm gonna work up to happy family fanfics, but until then I need to work on sad backstories all around until I can process everything better.

abuse things ahead. recommended for mature audiences.

One day I'll fly away
Leave your love to yesterday
What more can your love do for me
When will love be through with me - One Day I'll Fly Away (Vaults version)

–

The streamers and balloons were being swept up by the lower staff, and the children were ushered to their beds, leaving the few left by the fireplace. Wicke couldn't help but look at where she thought windows would be nice. When she designed Aether Paradise, Lusamine had said that windows would discourage the hurt and weak from growing by being exposed to the outside world, so all they had were small slits here and there. Wicke didn't think windows would actually hurt, but she wasn't the president, so her opinion wasn't that important.

Besides, it's not like the Alolan region ever got snow anyway, other than the mountainside.

Faba handed her a clear drink, which she took despite hating clear drinks. She didn't have to smell it to know that it wasn't water, but she drank it anyway, hoping to ease her nerves. He sat beside her on the floor and sighed, rubbing his sunglasses. "C'mon, Wicky, live a little. It's Christmastime only once a year."

"I know…I'm not very used to this."

"Well! Neither am I! But Madam President wants us all to get in the spirit because this is the one time of year we can be selfish, no?"

"I'd rather just do some work before going to bed."

"You party-pooper."

"You don't celebrate Christmas, either."

"I know."

They both sighed, and Wicke moved her eyes to the fireplace. They never really needed a fireplace, either, but it was supposed to add to the nurturing aspect of Aether. It didn't matter. It didn't really help the nurturing aspect, and it didn't really help make any of them feel cozy, either. Faba acted like everything was fine like he always did, but they were in the middle of their divorce hearings and the financial situation was a mess. Yet there they were, two Jewish, former lovers who didn't even celebrate Christmas that were forced to participate in Christmas gift-giving by their boss.

And all this time she thought that her boss was the only thing that could make Christmas worth celebrating, but lately…

"Ho, ho, ho, why are we looking all glum? It's the season to be jolly~"

Lusamine plopped onto the couch next to Wicke and wrapped her arms around her chest. Normally this would've been a wonderful feeling, but her boss's skin felt cold and weak, and her boss smelled like expensive perfume and alcohol. Even though she was in a Santa hat and a skimpy Mrs. Santa dress, complete with high heel boots that could kill any man, Wicke saw that she was desperate. It had been two years already since Mohn disappeared, and she was someone different. Someone Wicke didn't feel she could like as much…though she felt guilty thinking that. She was just lonely, wasn't she? They both were…

So she let her boss dangle over her as she waved a small, square box around, almost as if she were giving the gift to herself. "Wicky-Wicke, how are you doing, darling?" she called, grinning. "I think this first present is for you. This should look good on that thick neck of yours."

The gift was rolled onto her lap, and Wicke felt uneasy. She hoped it wasn't what she thought it was. They talked about this before, and all it did was make Wicke hide her practices more and more. It was one of the reasons why her relationship with Faba had faltered. Not that she wasn't spineless herself, but Faba was so willing to give up whatever he had to just to get closer to their boss, even his identity. It made her paranoid, and even though she was weak, she didn't want to turn into something she wasn't.

Even if her current self was so ugly.

When her hands wrapped around the silver cross that hung from the rosary beads, her stomach turned. That clear alcohol wasn't going to last too much longer down there.

It was like time stood still. The Christmas carols sounded muffled, and the fire crackled twice as slow as before, and she could feel Lusamine's skin pressing against her neck as she swallowed a shaky breath. "It's nice, Madam President," she managed to say. "It's…beautiful…"

"But?…"

"It's not for me. I can't wear this."

Faba turned away, muttering under his breath, and she knew right away it was the wrong move. Lusamine's hands went to her neck, gently rubbing it, and they felt so cold and hard against her skin. Then again, nothing seemed like the right move anymore. "You can't wear this? But Wicke, I specifically had this measured to fit your fat, pretty neck. You don't wanna wear this?"

"I mean, I don't believe…I can't…"

"You're being too selfish. I know you don't accept Him in your life, but you should still accept whatever gifts are given to you!"

Her hands tightened, and the glass slipped out of Wicke's hand as she gasped for air. Her vision became blurry and it dragged from her boss's shiny leather mini-dress to the floor to the fireplace again. It wasn't like this was surprising or the first time something like this happened, but she was still caught off guard every single time. It was always her fault every single time, and she could never learn, even during the holidays…

She got two seconds of relief when she fell to the floor. Then the rosary wrapped tight around her neck, and she coughed up alcohol as Lusamine's boot stomped on her stomach. Everything spun. "You fat, ungrateful bitch!" she roared, squeezing the rosary against her windpipe. "You're given opportunities time and time to time and you squander every one. of them!"

"Hakk…Madam-"

"Why do I keep you around for anything but a toy?! You're undeserving of my kindness!"

"I'm…sorry…"

From the corner of her eye, she saw something small move, and tears began pouring from her cheeks. Lillie was always a heavy sleeper, but Gladion…that boy could never sleep for very long when he was distressed. He hadn't been okay for a long time, either, but there was nothing she could do to help. When she tried lifting a hand towards his direction, he dashed away, probably before anyone else noticed. It wasn't like he could help her, either.

Her face grew heated and her vision became more and more blurry and spotty, and then everything stopped. She felt Lusamine on top of her, rubbing her breasts, the smell of alcohol swimming down her neck. "I have to keep reminding you of what a filthy girl you really are."

Late at night Wicke stared up at the ceiling and pulled up the sheet above her chest, hoping to feel a little bit warmer before she was forced out of the giant bed. She'd be sore tomorrow, and she would have to wear another turtleneck, and everything would go on just like it always did. She'd endure Faba's nonchalant teasing and Lusamine's high demands for everything to be more perfect and better, just like she always did.

Because she would never find a job that treated her better.

Lusamine kicked her in her sleep, and she saw that as a sign to get out before she stirred any more. Reaching over for her clothes, she silently got dressed and ran her fingers through her thick hair once, twice, before shakily putting back on her glasses. Without the festive cheer, everything was so dark and lonely.

She groaned under her breath and slunk out, glad that when this was all over, the rosary would be forgotten for a long time and she would remain as a weak, Jewish divorcee with nothing more to lose. Christmas came only once a year, after all. Maybe next year she'd have the courage to not participate in the gift-giving and the eggnog and the sad Christmas carols.

Probably not, but she just wanted to wish, just this once.

Her hair hid her tears, and she shuffled through the hallways, almost falling over a little bump in her path. When she stumbled against the wall, she was met with cool, green eyes. "M-M-Master Gladion," she breathed, "what are you doing out of bed?"

"You're hurt." Not a question but a fact.

"I'm fine…I'll be fine."

She felt her back slip against the wall, and then she was on the floor again. The boy was never the affectionate one - that was always Lillie - but he placed his fingers in her hair and stroked her head. She knew this was inappropriate, to seek for any kind of acceptance, especially from her boss's children, but she pulled him into a hug and cried. And kept crying. And he just stood there, keeping his hands in her hair as she kept babbling. "The windows….we should have windows."

"I don't know what that means, but you should be freeer. You work too hard."

"I don't….I don't…."

His fingers kept wiping away the tears, but they wouldn't stop. This was the only reason she wouldn't leave. She could never be free until she made sure they were, too.

She'd endure everything in this windowless, godless paradise.