It was the fourth charismas she had ever had in her life. Of course there were no presents, no parties or relatives coming over. She did live in the basement after all.
She busied herself with books most of the time, And christmas happen to be the time her father would come visit to add to her growing collection of books.
She never lost any sleep over it, especially now that her sister was gone. She had much better things to worry about. Like how she was going to keep herself from freezing to death in the near subzero temperatures that was winter inside her little run cut of from everything and everyone.
The hay may not have been covered in snow but it was wet from the melted snow and still freezing cold. The brisk winter breeze did fold in a small layer of snow through the bared window just above ground. She dug deeper under her pile of blankets to hide from the cold.
One good thing did come from being locked in the basement ; and that was learning how to sew. She'd learned how to sew together blankets in prep for the cold winters ahead and how to stick old clothes back together or even sew them thicker using blankets and old clothes. She even found a use for all the small containers
she had collected and buckets meant for bathroom use. She would stick the small cups outside during the rain and collected them to either drink or use to bath.
On this particular winter evening though, she looked down at her aching ankle that had swollen to twice the size of the earlier morning. The bruising bad gone from purple
to slightly green and it was concerning. Her body felt hot and slow which didn't mix well the frost outside. As If the cold air from outside was flowing inside her lungs and clenching her airways closed - she jolted, clenching her chest and fell to her side on the bed gasping desperately for air.
The thought to cry out for help one last did cross her mind but she dismissed it quickly. A part of her did want to get out and see the outside world but the pessimist in her disagreed. There could be no light in this world worth chasing.
Believe it or not, at the tender young age of six, a little girl was prepared to lay down and let it end. It wasn't because it hurt so bad. It was because of what she had seen her father turn into. Abusing her to back himself in a corner so that he may never escape his fate.
And there it was a little spark ; a little wish. She pulled herself up, looking around for something to write with and found a pebble. She scratched some words into the wall. The marks bearily made a dent and she began to worry if he could even read it.
I am tired. Marry charismas. I hope you stop crying alone soon. I forgive you. And he drew a feeble drawing next to it with her remaining strength.
The strength to hold her upper body up while scratching the wall faded and she fell on her back unconscious. It felt like a cold embrace, or falling deep asleep then ever before. Like being pulled into the pit of a bottomless dream going nowhere but somewhere.
"I wish I could...share it with someone." she muttered in a inaudible voice. She didn't have an ounce of regret leaving anything behind. In a way she was glade there was nothing to cling to. Though it was sad nobody knew that.
And perhaps that's why she felt her face with her hands and saw that she had been crying all along.