What Is Christmas Without You? (Watty Awards 2012)

Jayden & Hanna

Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light, from now on your troubles will be out of sight.

-Jayden & Hanna-

24th of December, Christmas Eve

 I covered my ears; I didn't want to hear the sounds of their quarrelling downstairs. Each word that comes out of their mouth is killing me slowly. What can I do? My parents have never been a fan of each other.

Isn't Christmas about spending time with your love ones? If we really do love each other, why am I always reminded by my parents that having me were a big mistake?

That no one is going to love me, that I'm useless, ugly, a coward... I used to be scared when my father comes home drunk, because he will abuse me sometimes, giving me small scars on my hands and legs.

But I'm used to it now. I'll just lock myself in my room until he decides to leave me alone.

Depression? Yes.

Bullied in school for my hideous scars? Yes.

Suicidal? Double yes.

My life is horrible... so why should I keep living? I sighed. I glanced at the clock, 11:26p.m. I decided to get out of this house and go for a quick walk, since walks always help me to relax.

I ran downstairs, looking at them, blaming each other for what they both did wrong. I grabbed everything I needed to keep warm and put it on.

I didn't need to inform them because they wouldn't even care. Not a single bit. One time, when I informed them that I was going out to get something from the store, they said, "Take however long you want, or even better – don't come back."

I was hurt and stunned by their words; ever since then, I never tell them wherever I'm going.

"Where do you think you're going?" my mother asked, her face was all red from the anger.

If looks could kill, I’ll be dead by now.

"I'm going for a walk," I said softly, not meeting her angry eyes. Yes, I'm scared of my own parents. Maybe they are right, I'm fragile and a coward.

"Give me coffee," my mother ordered sternly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear roughly as she looked away. I followed her order and went to the kitchen to make coffee.

After making the hot coffee, I gave it to her, making sure not to give her any eye contact as she looked at me like I was a disgusting creature instead of her own child.

She took a sip of it. She swallowed and looked up to me, her was face was impassive… until she started shouting at me.

“I can't taste any sugar in it!" she yelled at me even though I added more than three teaspoons of sugar inside the coffee, and the mug wasn't even big.

"I'm sorry," I apologized but I knew it wasn’t enough for her. She threw the cup of coffee towards me. The hot coffee spilled out of the mug and it burned my hand, but I hurriedly ducked so the pieces of the broken cup wouldn't cut or hurt me.

"You’re good for nothing! Get out of my house! Get out!" my mother yelled.

I obeyed and hastily ran outside as my mother slammed the door shut in front of my face. My hand was beginning to look red, so I placed my hand on the snow to cool it down.

I didn't even know I was crying until I realised that my face was sticky and wet.

“I can't take this anymore," I said to myself in frustration.