~ A Christmas Flash Fiction ~

I unbolt the door, keeping the plate of mince pies balanced in one hand. It’s cold down there. Damn. Should’ve cranked up the heating.

You sit cross legged on the floor, tongue between your teeth as you unpick a cluster of lights. I look around the dismal room. Worn out strings of tinsel are strewn around the walls. You’ve done a great job of brightening the place up.

“Looks Christmassy.” I say, a smile on my face.

You ignore me. As usual. Your fingers keep picking away at the tinsel, but your movements are faster, slightly manic.

“Anyway I brought you some food.” I set the plate down by the stairs. “Mince pies. You used to love them.”

Your breathing steadies. Still you ignore me.

I call out your name. Again, you ignore me.

Usually I don’t get angry when you’re unresponsive. But it’s Christmas and I want some of your attention. I take a few steps toward you. You keep your head down, your brown locks hanging like a curtain in front of your face.

I glance at the tray by the door. L shaped sandwich crust, scatters the plate.

“You’ve eaten. Good. You deserve a treat.” I move closer. “Here. Eat.” I offer you a mince pie, hovering it under your nose.

“Closer.” You mutter. But it’s so quiet, I have to lean in to hear.

“You – you want me to come – “

“Closer.”

Excited, I scoot in further. Finally! You were going to –

The lights wrap around my neck, cutting tight into my skin. My vision blurs, eyes watering. You hiss threats into my ear. Then, release your grip. I crumple to the floor, choking, hands grasping for your ankle.

You kick me. Running upstairs.

My last vision is of you. Your triumphant smile. “Merry Christmas. You twisted, sick, son of a bitch.”

You slam the door, plunging me into darkness. The Christmas lights, still tangled around my neck.

© By Christina Alagaratnam