Warning: This story will contain graphic depictions of violence, mature language, abuse and lemons in later chapters.
Chapter Seven
-Little Drummer Boy-
I had never seen Ephraim in such good spirits. He had tanned the hide of the buck easily enough, and preserved what we couldn't consume fast enough into canned stew and salted jerky. The spirits inside the small church had lifted significantly around me, and even Seb had taken to painting the small horns from the skinned buck Ephraim had gifted him with.
I had been surprised at how fast the stain of the bloodied snow dissolved and was replaced with a fresh new coat of flakes.
It was as if it had never happened, and a butcher had delivered us the goods neatly on our doorstep tied with a twine thread.
But the darkness I felt in my belly reminded me of the hunt.
The nightmare did not return, and thankfully I was allowed to rest and recover from the wounds now healing inside me.
Christmas was coming around the corner and Seb was alight with decorating every beam and pew that held any space for cotton "snow" and pine tree clippings. The walls were decorated with drawings of elves and trees, and Ephraim wearing a Santa hat.
He hadn't come to me again in the night seeking reassurance, and had seemed just as happy as Ephraim to enjoy the fresh meat and holiday spirits.
The night before Christmas I found myself locked in my room, attempting to sew the pelt into a semblance of a gift for Ephraim and Seb. For Seb I was attempting a ball, filled with stuffing from a gutted pillow.
I worked quietly, the stars glittering outside and the candle by the window lighting my way as I slipped the thread up, down and over.
My leg was feeling better everyday, and my fingers, although maybe permanently stiff, seemed to be as healed as they were ever going to be.
As I stitched, I remembered the conversation I had had with Seb earlier this morning. He seemed to be truly dumbfounded at the idea I couldn't remember a Christmas, and had forgotten what Christmas lights looked like.
"They come in a bunch of colors. Blue, red, white. My Mom bought icicle ones last year, and my Dad slipped and broke his leg trying to hang them. But they looked real cool." His soft cheeks rosy from the fire and bouncing from the memory.
"Father Ephraim also put some up one year. Those were green and red. He also had a tree up at the front and everyone got to put ornaments on. Mine was a baseball glove with a red ball painted on it."
Ephraim had patted the young boy's head. "I still have that box somewhere. Shame I donated the tree last year. It was old and it's needles were bent here and there. Plastic just doesn't last when it's shoved in a box for eleven months."
"Oh lets go get a tree! Please? There are some small ones outside!"
Ephraim considered for a moment, before he eventually agreed and once more bundled up with Seb and cut a tree down to haul inside.
Seb had spent the rest of the afternoon pulling out old ornaments from plastic tubs and reminiscing with Ephraim.
I had sat in my usual perch by the kitchen window and watched them, smiling softly and imagining each townsperson they gossiped about.
"What about Mrs. Mabbott? She always smelled like mothballs and yarn." Seb giggled, handing Ephraim the ornament labeled with her name.
Ephraim chuckled, his shifting eyes flickering by the candle. "Now you be nice. She was a nice woman."
"Yeah. She did give me a bag of pretzels once, but my Dad told me I had to share it with the other Sunday Schoolers."
"And he was right. Sharing is one of man's greatest virtues." He hung the ornament high on the tree and Seb reached for the next one, a silver ballerina with brown hair tied in a bun, suspended mid-leap by a string on the tip of her finger.
"Doe, look it's you." Seb grinned and presented me with the small ornament.
I laughed lightly, turning the angelic little figure in my hands. "She's very pretty. Too bad my leg will keep me from dancing."
He took the figure back from me and handed it to Ephraim. Once the box was empty we had eaten our dinner of venison, instant mashed potatoes, and hot cocoa.
Seb had been so happy to share with me all his memories of Christmas, the names of all his neighbors and cousins who visited every year with freshly baked pies and casseroles.
It wasn't difficult to smile as he spoke, so long as I steered my brain swiftly away from Ephraim's predictions of where those neighbors may now lay buried under ice.
I finished the small ball and smiled, painting little baseball threads, hoping the ink wouldn't fade too fast.
I then moved onto Ephraim's gift, a bit more of a daunting task, I was hoping to sew a pair of house slippers, lined with a swath of wool.
I stayed up most of the night, listening to the winds howl around me and the ice weighing heavily on our roof, creaking on the beams.
When my gifts were finally completed I wrapped them in old newspaper, and painted bows on each parcel, placing them under the tree.
As I began the walk back to my room I glanced up to the attic, the flicker of a candle apparent in the darkness. Carefully I slipped between pews, and pulled down the ladder, climbing my way up into Seb's little den.
He was laying in his bed, eyes open singing softly to himself.
Little Baby, pa rum pum pum pum
I am a poor boy too, pa rum pum pum pum
I have no gifts to bring, pa rum pum pum pum
That's fit to give our King, pa rum pum pum pum
Rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum
His little voice was frayed thin and broken, sniffling between lyrics.
"Seb?" I whispered, pulling myself up into the den and sitting beside him. He started for a moment, but once seeing me smiled a little, eyes watery. "Hi..." I murmured, scooting closer to him. "Why are you crying?"
He rolled on his side to face me, smearing his tears away with the back of his hand. He didn't answer right away, just playing with a loose string on the old quilt he was nestled in.
I reached out and smoothed a wild curl away from his face. "You have a nice voice. Is that a Christmas carol you're singing?"
He nodded a little and bit his lip. "My Mom used to sing it to me before Christmas." He mumbled.
I traced his cheek with my finger, wiping away a tear. "You miss her a lot don't you?"
His face crumpled and I found myself curling next to him and stroking his back. My heart broke for him as the tears came harder and faster as he cried into my chest.
"Do...do you think they are okay? That they haven't forgotten me?" He hiccupped, and his fingers dug into my shirt.
"No...no Seb. Your parents would never forget you. You are so special." I kissed his temple, laying my cheek on his head.
"What i-if they don't come back?"
I paused, my breath caught in my throat. I couldn't lie, wouldn't lie to him. But it was Christmas Eve. And as weak as may have made me I couldn't bring myself to say the words.
"Then Ephraim and I will take care of you. And when the snow stops we'll get you a real house, with a real backyard."
We spent another night together, this time curled up in his little den above the tree below us perfumed the air and the small pitter patter of wildlife outside lulled us both into a dreamless sleep.
I awoke to the sound of bells. Jingles rang throughout the church, and a booming "Ho Ho Ho" rang in the air. I could smell cookies and coffee waiting for us below, and much to my delight, a huge stack of pancakes with real pads of butter melting in a pool of warmed maple syrup.
Ephraim had dressed himself for the occasion, wearing a paper Santa hat and wrapped in celebratory red robes.
Seb squealed in delight, practically inhaling the feast and giggling to Ephraim's rendition of Silent Night.
The day passed in a blur of laughter and comfort food. I was ever thankful for Ephraim. He had confessed that he had peeked out of his room in the night and seen Seb and I alone together in the attic. He had expressed appreciation for me, and deep concern for Seb, spurring him into spending the night planning and preparing for the best Christmas and upcoming birthday he could provide.
His black hair was tied behind his neck, and his cat eyes flickered in affection at Seb's glee, tearing apart the many gifts Ephraim had put together.
Ephraim had wrapped up a radio, a couple of sketch pads, a set of paints and a knitted pair of earmuffs to celebrate the day. Wearing the ear muffs over his springy curls, Seb reached for my gift.
He beamed at me when he realized its contents, and ceremoniously tossed it into the air.
Ephraim laughed a rare belly laugh when Seb rolled his arm dramatically for a baseball wind up, and flew the ball into the air, catching me in the belly and leaving me breathless.
Eventually after hours of enjoying Seb's infectious joy, we opened up our own gifts. I had a gift from Seb and a gift from Ephraim. Two more than I had been counting on.
"Open it, open it!" Seb cheered, biting his lip and bouncing slightly as he watched me carefully unwrap the cloth from my gift.
Inside lay a little wooden doe, carved by a young but enthusiastic hand. Its legs were too long and eyes too wide, but it was perfect. I looked at Seb, shocked.
"You made this?"
Seb nodded. "Father Ephraim has been teaching me. This is my second one, the first one I broke one of the legs. Do you like it?"
My fingers stroked the stained wood. Clearly Ephraim had helped him, but the symbol of the name he had given me made my heart pull achingly in my chest.
The doe and the buck had become two symbols I found myself moving towards, in my daily actions and in my dreams.
The doe serene in her environment, gentle and strong, represented all of my new life. My new family, my new beginning.
And the buck, a challenge and a threat in its large and masculine presence.
But this little doe, given to me by the little boy with round eyes and red hair, who had given me a name and a purpose only months ago , was now the most treasured item I had.
"Thank you. It's beautiful." I hugged him close, and only released him when Ephraim came up behind us.
"And this is from me."
Ephraim came to our front, and Seb took his place next to me once more.
It was a small leather pouch, held tightly closed by two drawstrings. I gently tugged and the soft leather relaxed and parted, opening its contents to me.
Inside was a necklace, hung on a golden chain. I lifted it slowly and what I saw hanging as a pendant finally pushed the tears stinging behind my eyes forward.
It was a small sketch of the church, Seb and Ephraim's silhouette viewable through a window, encased in a glass orb.
I looked at Ephraim, dumbfounded how he could have made such a thing.
"It's an old glass locket my wife had. It used to hold a picture of her parents. I thought you may have use for it now. To remember us if you decide to leave."
"Ephraim..." I looked up at him. He was a superstitious, religious, empathetic and incredibly kind man. I opened my mouth to speak, about to tell him I could never take such a precious keepsake of his wife's, but he held up a hand.
"Rosemary was a strong woman taking me on. And I know you're the same. She would want you to have it."
I closed my eyes as he slipped the chain around my neck.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
12/27/18
Father Ephraim's Church
The past two days have been filled with happy tears, laughter and sugar. My heart feels warm and soft, and my head feels clear.
Seb has been on cloud nine since celebrations started, and is only now coming down from the high. After Christmas dinner Ephraim and I sat down with him and had a heart to heart about his parents, not wanting to leave him to another night of tears and worrying.
We told him a truth I am okay with telling. No stories of ghosts, but the truth as he needs to know it.
We don't know where they are. We hope they are okay. And most importantly, he is loved, most of all by his parents and by us.
I think us addressing everything out in the open brought him some level of peace, and I can finally rest without the knot of deception in my throat.
So Seb got to enjoy his birthday. I made him a chocolate cake from a box mix, and we listened to the radio, the only station coming through the snow being a Spanish soap opera channel, but Seb and I had fun giggling and acting out the parts to each other.
I also got a wonderful surprise from Ephraim. He told me that the shed where I had sought shelter in, lay a few cans of paint. With his permission, I can now paint my room, and decorate it to my own liking. It feels nice digging out a place for myself.
No more memories have come, and I'm determined to keep it that way. I had felt a sense of loss with my empty memory, but now it's filling every day with new ones.
Soon I'll be strong enough for a trek in the brutal outdoors, and I'll hopefully be able to find help and answers to my questions. But regardless, even if more memories come, I'm not leaving the Church.
The broken and bloody buck, and the monster in my ear are enough for me to take the hint and seek to release any hold I once had on my past.
Ephraim, I can tell, is nervous. I'm not sure if it is because he thinks the ghosts will trap me in town, or if I will find help and decide returning isn't necessary.
But he's wrong. This is my family. And next week when Ephraim removes the splint on my leg, I'm going to prove it.
For tonight though, I will content myself with the warmth of the fire, and the hot cocoa in my palms.
Doe
A/N: How are we feeling after the last chapter? Do you feel like you are learning who our Bella is? Watch for the next update, our Bella is soon to find our Edward. I wonder what they will make of each other...
Also, please ignore any spelling or grammatical errors, they are a product of inexperience.
This story has two main points of inspiration. The first is "The Long Dark" by Hinterland Studios. There are some elements of this story I am borrowing, but the premise is mine alone. This is a gorgeous, gripping and enchanting game. I highly recommend you play it.
The second is "Washed Up" By xrxdanixrx. I loved this story and the idea of amnesia came from reading. I encourage you all to read this wonderful story.
Stephanie Meyer is the sole owner of the Twilight Franchise, and she owns all related characters you may see here. This is merely a fanfiction of her work.