Prologue
Under My Skin
A/N: New story, from the the same author who is currently writing Letting Go, so go check that out please! :D
Anyway, I randomly had this idea and started to write it. Although, I wanted to hold out until I finished my other story, but I'm currently having a bit of Writer's block for that one, unfortunately. D:
Hope you like it!
The little girl sat there, totally absorbed in the new doll she had received that Christmas morning. It was a nice doll, she thought. Better than what she usually got.
The soft clink of wine glasses signaled that it was almost time for their annual Christmas dinner with her family's close friends; the Belikovs.
She heard her name being called, and she trotted happily to the dinner table, always having a hefty appetite. Plopping down in the chair beside her beloved father, she began to hum to herself the Christmas carol that had been stuck in her head all day.
We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas...
The whole table laughed. "Kiz!" Her father bellowed. "Who knew you had such musical talent!"
She began to giggle uncontrollably. Her father's sense of humor was her favorite thing about him. That, and his bear hugs.
Only one person in the room was not laughing; rather, he was sticking his tongue out at the little girl. His brown hair was short and neat, parted perfectly down the middle. His almond-shaped eyes were almost the exact same shade as his hair, and his skin was a rich caramel color.
She glared at him fiercely, though that seemed to have no effect whatsoever on him. His stare remained unwavering, and that was what puzzled the girl the most.
After an hour of gobbling down her ham and mashed potatoes, while subtly slipping her peas and carrots off of her plate and down to her dog (She was not one for healthy eating), dinner was finally over.
The whole crowd began to migrate towards the living room, where they would enjoy each others company and watch countless Christmas movies they'd seen millions of times on re-run. Yes, Christmas at the Mazur house was quite an affair, and usually a very happy one.
That is, until the five year old happened to come across her newly-received doll. Now, at first glance, it seemed perfectly fine. When you gave it a second glance, though, you'd soon realize that the wave of perfectly smoothed hair was chopped off, leaving the edges rugged.
She screamed so loudly, she thought the windows were going to burst at the high-pitched shrill. Thankfully, they did not.
Stomping over to the little boy, who was three years elder, she creased her eyebrows together and stared at him.
The smirk on his face immediately told her that this was the culprit. Not that she needed any convincing. They had never gotten along.
The little girl swung her foot out and struck him in the sweet spot. She may have been small, but she was anything but weak. He grunted from the pain, and toppled to the floor.
She chucked the doll at his head and stormed off to her room.
Her parent's divorce, a whole lifetime of trouble, and fifteen years later, she still despised Dimitri Belikov.