Meredith
December 25th. Christmas Day.
It's the day I've been dreading since the accident. Emily loves Christmas. When I was pregnant, we both spoke excitedly about Christmas, Em wanted me to spend it with them and that was the plan until I lost the baby.
It hurts. I envisioned next Christmas when I would have my little girl, Eliot and I would be happy and Emily would be spoiling her niece with presents. We would be a family, something that I haven't had since my parents died. Since their deaths, I haven't really enjoyed the holidays. Jack tried to make Christmas happy and special for me but I wasn't interested. I thought that this year would be different but now it's even worse.
Yesterday it was Christmas Eve. I planned to stay home and wallow in self-pity. I just wanted to be alone, curled up on the sofa with a blanket, a mug of hot chocolate and a few movies. But an hour after I had woken up for the day, there was a knock at the door. I knew instantly who it was, I didn't need to open the door to find out. Emily stood excitedly on my doorstep, wrapped in a scarf, hat and gloves to protect her from the winter's cold. I thought werewolves didn't feel the cold but Em said it's only to a certain extent. Afterall, this is England and our winters are bitter, even the wolves need some layers.
I stood in front of her frowning, clad in my warmest pyjamas and messy hair, reluctant to get dressed or entertain her idea of spending Christmas with everyone. But you know how Emily is. She doesn't give up.
"Come on Mer! I know it's hard to get out of bed sometimes since the accident, let alone celebrate Christmas like nothing is wrong but I don't want you to be alone." Em pleads to me.
Her heart is in the right place but she doesn't understand. I don't have the strength emotionally or physically to be in the company of Eliot's family and pretend to smile or pretend to enjoy myself. As much as it hurts to be alone and away from them all, celebrating Christmas together is the last thing I want to do. I want to cry and feel miserable in peace.
"Emily, please. You know I can't, I really can't handle being around everyone while trying to act happy and joyful about Christmas. I'm not happy and I don't care about Christmas."
She frowns at me, mirroring my expression for a moment before she takes a step into the house and closer to me. She holds my face in her hands, her smile sad but encouraging.
"I'm sorry that you lost your little girl. You've had enough tragedy in your life, none of which you deserved and I can't imagine the pain you're going through. I loved that baby, I was so excited to have her here for next Christmas and the rest of our lives and it broke my heart when the doctors told me that you lost her so I cannot imagine how you feel as her mum. But I'm not going to let you sit here alone and sink into a depression. Everyone wants to see you. They know you're hurting but they don't want to see you hurt alone. Please, I am begging you, come with me. If you want to cry as you munch on turkey, then cry but at least you'll have people around you that love you and care about you."
I'm in tears by the time she finishes speaking and speechless. What do I say to that? Em wipes my tears and then hugs me tight. I hold her even tighter, my eyes raised to the ceiling as I try to end my tears and breathe.
"You know I won't take no for an answer." She whispers in my ear, her voice lighter and laced with laughter.
"It's just so hard." I choke through the clogging of my throat.
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
His Prisoner
वेरवुल्फ़Jack Morgan has been a friend of my parents for years. That is until they died when I was fifteen. Jack took me under his wing and for a while, I was very appreciative of him. As I got older, his company became less friendly and more creepy. As a te...
