Sterling (14 years old)
December 25th, 2000
Sterling stared up at the bare tree which his dad had stolen from outside the shopping centre. Not a single ornament did they have to put on it. His eyes glided over to his dad, who was sitting in his good chair with his feet propped up and a beer in his hand.
The flat smelled like frozen pizza, which Sterling’s oldest brother had put in the oven for them. Dad was to broke to buy anything but beer and frozen pizza. No Christmas dinner, no Christmas presents, not even candy.
Sterling could vaguely remember it being different once, before their mum had left them. It was a long time ago though, and he’d learned not to expect differently now. His dad was always broke. They lived on frozen dinners and Dad lived on beer.
They had a telly, but no channels, so Dad had put the radio on for them to listen to. A man was droning on about the Bible.
At least Dad had gotten them a tree. That was something, at least, even if it was stolen.
Catlin (14 years old)
December 25th, 2000
“Catlin, would you be a dear and clean the living room too?”
Catlin sighed at the shout from his mum. “Yes, mum.” He’d just finished scrubbing the kitchen clean after orders from her. It was spotless now, as clean as it never had been before.
When he walked into the living room, he saw her in the exact same position she’d been in when he’d started in on the kitchen. Lying on the couch, watching the telly. And Catlin had spent hours on the kitchen.
He knew his mother was using him to clean, but she left the flat in such a state he couldn’t help but do it. He couldn’t live in a pigsty, not anymore. Not like he had when he was younger. He wasn’t ever going to have rodents around a place he lived. Not again.
And she … she was lying back, while he did all the housework a proper mum would be glad to do for her own kid.
Mal (14 years old)
25th December, 2001
He was sitting wedged under the stairs in the basement. He was shivering, but he couldn’t move. If he moved, his brother would find him. Mal didn’t want his brother to find him, not ever. He knew his brother would eventually, their house wasn’t exactly big, but he wanted to keep hidden for as long as he was able.
He was only in his pyjamas. They were thin and the basement was damp and muggy. If he had to choose between pneumonia and his brother, he would much rather take the former.
Mal curled up further as he heard someone descent the steps. No, no, no! Not yet. He needed to be alone for a while, he couldn’t take it again, not so soon …
He screamed as he was dragged out from under the steps. “No, no, please, don’t,” he sobbed.
Mal was smacked hard across the face. “Don’t speak to me, you little slag.” His brother threw him down on the muggy floor and was atop him before Mal could even think about moving. His trousers were pulled down roughly.
“No, please.” Mal’s tears fell on the floor, which his face was pressed against. He didn’t want to take it anymore. He couldn’t.
“You’re so ugly, Mal. No one else but me will have you.”
And then there was pain.
Noelle (15 years old)
December 25th, 2001
Noelle stared up at the dark ceiling. A snore from her side, brought her attention over to the person sleeping next to her. He was on his stomach, with his back to her. It was just as well, he wasn’t exactly a nice person to look at. She’d rather face his back than his front.
Still, he was hers. He did whatever she wanted, whatever she asked. Even leaving her mum. Noelle was pleased about that. It was a game. Her mum always thought she could get whatever man she put her sight on, but Noelle got them more often her mum did. She was prettier than her mum, she was younger, she was better at sex. She was excellent at sex.
Better than her mum. Better than anyone else. It was the one thing she was good at. Yet why did she feel so lousy?