Holidays (Pine) Dec 22, 2008 4:17:56 GMT 1
Post by Bix on Dec 22, 2008 4:17:56 GMT 1
Presents. Had been opened. Bix had one. Under the tree. That had glistened. The show of religion. That she did not believe in. However. Her mother. Seemed to want. Her daughter as part. Of the festivities. Bix had been woken. By her mother. A cup of hot chocolate. In the dark room. And as she had slept. She had missed Pine. Sleeping more and more horribly. Dark circles. Had found themselves at home. Beneath her blue orbs. She had woken. And dressed. Dragged down. To participate in family festivities. Her father was home. Had come home. Three days ago. But she had figured. Pine was tired of her. Always being there. Always wanting. To spend time with him. So she had not called him. And the purple bruise. On the back of her shoulder. Was for show.
Her mother however. Had actually put thought. Into the gift. That she gifted Bix. That morning. Writing Bix upon the tag. Wrapping it in blue. But within. Among the white tissue paper. Was a Japanese fan. Made of intricate lace. Embroderied with blue flowers. The partitions. Made of a dark cherry wood. And the movement. Fluid. It was probably. One of the best gifts. She had gotten. From her mother. In a very long time. But when Christmas was over. And her mother. Was getting the boys ready. To go visit the family. Bix was in her room. A silver box in the center. Of her bed. Glistening with the paper. A blue ribbon. Wrapped around it. Tied with care. Upon the top. In her own fluid script. Was the word. Pine.
She had gone shopping. Saved money. From working at the shop. It would be their first Christmas. Together. And she wanted. Him to remember it. Bix had no idea. What his plans for the day were. She hoped that. He would have time for her. That he would be willing. To spend a part of his day with her. Reaching behind her. She zipped up. Her dress. Looking at herself. In the mirror. She might have gone. Overboard. But she wanted him. To realize. That she wanted. To be special for him. She wanted him. To understand. That he meant a great deal to her. She wanted to shock him. Because when she did. She was rewarded. And because when she did. She got to see. The Pine behind the shields.
Pulling on her overcoat. Afterall. It was cold. It was grey in color. And all it would show. Was her legs. Which were covered in normal hose. Not black. Not tights. Not striped. not blue. Regular hose. She buttoned her tweed coat. Over her body. Picking up her package. She headed down.
"Where are you going? We're going to see the family. You're going with us."
Her father froze her. In her steps. She looked over. Seeing her father. At the bottom of the stairs. Waiting by the door. he had probably realized. She would not want to go. Not with them. She would have her own plans.
"Leaving. I am."
"You're not to see that boy anymore. I made that clear I thought. Or shall I remind you again."
Bix's eyes narrowed. She knew all too well. How he would remind her. And the thrill he would get out of it. Knowing she was trapped.
"Finding my own place to live, I shall."
"I won't allow that." he said firmly.
"No choice, I shall give."
She brushed passed him and opened the door. To feel his hand squeezing the back of her neck. His lips brushed her ear as he spoke.
"I am not letting you go you little bitch."
She whirled. sucker punching her father. Right in his face. He cried out. But he let go quickly. Shoving her away. Which was all she needed. To get out the door. And get out. She hailed a taxi. When she got out of the suburbs. And to a street. Where they were common. When they stopped. She gave the address quietly. And soon. She was off. Carrying no bag. She had clothes there. Had for a while. For when she needed to be there. On short notice. The taxi pulled up soon. And she tossed her money. Into the front seat. She made sure her coat. Hid her dress. As she road the elevator up. The silver package. In her hand. Her hair loose. Curled at the ends. She was trying. For him. To look normal.
On the floor. She went to the door. Making sure. Once more. All he could see was. Her legs. And her coat. She lifted her hand. Knocking on the door. She waited. Hoping he was home. If not. She would sit here. And she would wait. Until he was. But the bolt slid back. And her eyes brightened. The door opened. She held the package. In both her hands. It was small. About four inches. By four inches. She held it out. Smile on her face.
"Merry Christmas Pine!"