ひsually when you take a step, you take it simply with your foot. Sometimes, a step means a item on a recipe list, or another time it means a phase or new item of the plan. Let that sink in.

Before Brookline opened sleepy eyes, she remembered seeing her friends.

Or their hair or their feet, all she knew that there was some big object obstructing her vision. It was a massive brown puppy, she learned when it stepped to the back half of her vision. Now she could see her friends, in Hogwarts’ uniform! The pup was about as tall as her mother, for size. But he was nothing close to Mrs. Quinn. His flappy ears were the size of the pure-blood’s head and his head was the size of a super-large pumpkin. His tail was as long as her arm. She backed away. When that bloody daft puppy pounced on her, she gasped and her eyes popped open.

Rubbing her eyes, Brookline wrinkled her nose as she reconciled her dream. What a strange dream. She shook her head and pulled away quilts and covers from her warm toasty body. It had been awfully cold last night. But she knew it probably won’t snow on Christmas Day. Cardiff hasn’t seen a White Christmas in a decade, or at least that is what her seventeen year old sister, Lizy has said. She had just had her birthday about one month ago. Brookline wasn’t able to visit her, but she wrote a letter.

It was the day after Brookline came home for the holidays. Christmas was tomorrow and today was Christmas Eve. She threw on a warm brown sweater, and black leggings. There was no way that the Welsh girl was going to march around the house today in shorts or stiff clothing. If her mother or father said anything about her simple outfit on such a day, Brookline would walk away from them, keeping her outfit on. But her father wouldn’t cared nor did he talk to the little girl. The last time Chase Quinn seeemed to reconciled that his daughter was real, and alive, was when he wrote her that bloody ding dang letter.

Brookline thought the man was a bastard. But there so many other colorful names that she could call him. The pure-blood’s intelligence won. Why would she call him those names? Never mind that. She grabbed the doorknob, opening her bedroom door, and shut behind her quickly. Starting for the stairs, she went to check on Cash. The little two-year-old must be awake by now. Strangely, the door to his nursery open.

The boy was on his toes, his hands gripping the bars, while drool shivered, and dropped from his mouth. Wrinkling her nose, Brookline asked herself why Cash was still drooling. Her mother had said Cash would stop drooling. She gingerly lifted the the toddler.

“Hi Brookie.” The toddler hugged the girl.

“Good morning Cash.” She smiled, and headed for the stairs, Cash propped on her hip. His head was facing behind Brookline, his cheek on her shoulder, as they took one step at time down the stairs.

Once they entered the marvelous dining room, Brookline and Cash were bombarded by two girls whom looked exactly alike.

“Cash! Brooke! Helo¹!” Minnie smirked as she pulled Cash away from Brooke to give the toddler a big hug.

Marie’s Welsh accent took the spotlight as she gave Brookline a hug, “Good morning, Brooke, and Cash. Didn’t get to see you last night. How was Hogwarts?”

“Oh... It was good. But glad to be home.” Flashing a warm smile, Brookline pulled the girl tighter. As she placed her chin on Marie’s head, she took in the girl’s shampoo scent. Merlin, it smelled good. Like peppermint and chamomile.

“Are... are you smelling my hair?” Marie backed up, her eyes scrunching up on a giggle.

“Oh no. Why would I?” Brookline replied, her tone blank and dull as if she was joking. She crossed her eyes, and made Marie laugh.

Once Brookline saw Minnie slowly put down Cash, she jumped to the floor, and grabbed the toddler carefully.. “Okay, guys. We’ve got a big day today. The cousins are coming! Get breakfast.”

“What if I already had breakfast?” Minnie asked, twirling a strand of brunette hair around her finger.

“Well then clean the house. It sure looks like it needs cleaning.” Brookline pointed to the floor and the kitchen’s island.

“Bu-”

“Ah! No buts, today, miss.” And when the two twins weren’t listening, Brookline thought some firm Welsh could help that, “Beth ddywedais i? Ewch! Scat!²” She put up three fingers, counting them down to one. Then she smiled, as she saw her little sisters’s lips twitching.

The twins smirked and bolted. Brookline knew they were wanting the Welsh, and the fingers. One went to grab breakfast while the other grabbed a rag to mop the counters. Being underage and without a wand meant do it yourself! Which Brookline absolutely hated when she was younger, it was an absolute pain in the neck to do things the muggle way when you knew you were a high pure-blood. But oh well, no need to dwell on the past. Brookline took it to herself to see that Cash was fed. She placed him in his highchair, and grabbed some scones. Oh how she wished could just heat the scone with her wand, but unfortunately she would have to do it the muggle way.

Pouring a glass of orange juice, Brookline drank it, letting the coolness of the juice sink slowly down hee throat. Then the scones were done, she took two and cut it in pieces for the toddler. She took the rest, and popped the warm buttermilk biscuit in her mouth. Savoring the bite, she grabbed a glass of milk for Cash. Cash mumbled joyfully as he shoved the pastry in his mouth. The Ravenclaw shook her head, ate another scone. Mmm! Who knew two scones would taste actually so good?

***


Standing in front of her mirror, Brookline pulled out her brush out of her drawer. Brushing through her long clumpy hair, she brushed for minutes til the curls bounced down all thick and pretty. Then pulling her hair into a brunette bun, leaving two jumping curls in the front.

“Brooklineeee!” Brookline’s mother, Amy called.

Brookline jumped rigid, her thoughts springing out of her head. Then she called, “Whattt!”

“Your cousins are hereee!”

“Rhowch eiliad os gwelwch yn dda, Mam? Rhaid gorffen fy ngwallt!³” Brookline yelled down the stairs, cheerfully, in Welsh so her cousins might not be able to pick up her quick-as-a-hare Welsh speech.

“Alri-” Amy was cut off.

“You listen to her mother! When she tells you to come down; you come down!!” A loud deep male voice startled her again. It was her father yelling at her. He’d never yelled this angrily before. “For the devil’s sake, I would think she’d flippin’ obey.” He lowered his voice, speaking quickly and indistinct. Brookline frowned and heard her mother mumbling angrily to her father.

Oh shut up you.. Brookline thought, almost as if she was speaking to her father. You’re just mad as hell that I didn’t respond to you. You haven’t spoken to me, you’re mad, and there’s no way Mum’s gonna stay with you after I tell her about the letter. I swear one day, you will be busted.

You are so lucky you’re married to my mother!

The Welsh Ravenclaw could feel her eyes burning. When will it be the last time that man would steal his foot in this house? As much as she loved him, she would to love to see him go before either of them said something they would regret. Although... sometimes Brookline thought her father, Chase, didn’t have a heart. Mr. Quinn had complex heart sometimes that has been doused with alcohol and curses.

Brookline slowly ambled down the stairs, making her footsteps light as possible. How could it be possible to get through this dinner with a impossible man by her side? She rolled her eyes, but tried to make the best of it. Twitching her nose, she smelled her mother at the stove, cooking up some Christmas Eve lunch. She assumed her siblings were already with the French-Welsh family.

At the door stood three girls, two little boys, a aunt, a father and a uncle. The twins were no-where to be found. Lizy was hugging Gwen, Rosalie, and Lily were fooling around with Chase Junior and Cash. Chase Senior was speaking with Nadine, and Flynn. Cold stingy air whooshed into the house, making the walls and Brookline shiver.

A fixated smile on her face as she called, “Guys! Let them in! Its cold outside.” Ushering the three adults and five kids aside, Brookline shut the double doors and bolted it. Sprinting to the windows, she did the same.

Nadine’s cheeks were pink, though the French half-blood smiled with these most utter joy. She stopped speaking with Chase and her husband, Flynn, and wrapped her long olive-skinned arms round Brookline. “Ahhh, Merry Christmas, Brookline! I ‘ope ze holidays are treating yeh right.” Her French accent felt like honey and tea to Brookline’s ears.

“Oh Merry Christmas, Aunt Nadine...” She tightened the hug, and moved on to her other consins, greeting/granting them a Merry Christmas Lily, then Rosalie, and then Gwen.

“Hiya little Brookie. Merry Christmas! Gwen smiled at her, the graduated seventh year pulled the Ravenclaw into a hug.

“Merry Christmas, Gwenny!” Brookline muffled into Gwen’s coat, she loved her older cousin. The French-Welsh half-blood was like another older sister to her.

“Lunch! When is it time?” Flynn erupted, his jolly Welsh voice obstructing the little voices.

“Yes, Aunt Amy, is food ready!? It smells good!” Lily sniffed, her nose twitching in delight.

Rosalie snorted, her dark hair spiraling about, “What about turkey?”

“We need some potatoes, not turkey, Rosalie!” Lizy called, drumming her fingers on the kitchen’s island.

Chase Jr.’s tiny voice wasn’t caught up in all the joyous voices around, “But what about the stuffing? That’s always good, right!” Approving murmurs told Brookline stuffing was always a good thing, but she always knew that anyway.

“Food! Let me have food!” Minnie skipped into the kitchen, her brunette hair statically.

“Minnie, stop being so selfish!” Marie crossed her arms as she followed Minnie inside the kitchen. Minnie cartwheeled, knocking right into Uncle Flynn, the pure-blood man gasped as Marie grabbed Minnie’s legs, shaking her.

“OM-” Marie glanced up at Uncle Flynn who looked like the cartwheel had zero effort on him. “I’m sorry, Uncle Flynn, she’s always like this.”

“It’s okay. Your father and I was always like that.” Uncle Flynn smiled, “Anyway, Amy!! Food? Now? When? Where? How?”

Oh? My father? Hmm? Merlin, he’s not like that now. Brookline thought, but shrugged it off.

“Mum? I think we have impatient kids.” She smirked, and heard Uncle Flynn’s snarky comment, “I’m not a kid....”

“Daddddd,” Gwen rolled her eyes, “You are a kid, and you know ittt.”


“Almost fin-” Once again, Amy was interrupted.

“Alright we get it. You’re so hungry. Leave the poor girl alone!” Winmy’s squeaky voice alerted everyone. She was getting a pan out of its cupboard. They all exited with merry exclaims ‘Merry Christmas to you too, Winmy!’

But Brookline was the only one that stayed. She hugged the frail house elf and whispered, “Hey Winmy, Merry Christmas!” Winmy smiled, warmly,“Merry Christmas!”

Brookline turned to her mother, “Merry Christmas, Mum!” She wrapped her arms around her mother.

“Merry Christmas. Better get this fo-”

“AMY. I’M HUNGRY.” Uncle Flynn’s voice in the dining room alerted the pair in the kitchen, and interrupted Amy again. Amy groaned and Brookline flashed a I’m sorry but this is so funny grin.

Was there literally anything possible that could ruin this such of a good day??

_{to be continued...}

the welsh translations ¹hello/hi ²What did I say? Go! Scat! ³Give me a second please, Mum? Gotta finish my hair! -

xxx

mentions for lore! @Sage Willows

𝔒f course something had to ruin poor Brookline’s day. And it wasn’t a what, it was a who. Came you guess who that was? If you guessed Brookline’s father, then ding! ding! You got it, Mr. Chase Quinn, himself, ruined the whole dinner with his knowledge and hatred.

Brookline skipped out of the kitchen and froze when Uncle Flynn yelled about his stomach growing. “Oh, Uncle Flynn, is there anything I can offer you in the meantime? Dinner won’t be done for a while.”

“Brooke. If there is something you can offer me? Can you ask your mother to be quicker??” Uncle Flynn showed his chipped smile. “I’m hungry!” Patting his belly, he stood up and cheerfully called through the door that separated the kitchen and dining room.

It wasn’t Amy who replied back. It was Chase Senior who roared behind Brookline. “FLYNN. Shut up the frick up. We get it!!”

Dad. You shut up, he’s joking for Heavens’ sake! If only I could stand up to you, y - you bastard!

“Dada? Please swap.” Cash peeped up from his high-chair, his ‘stop’ slightly butchered. Brookline glanced pointedly at Lizy, and Lizy nodded slightly. Lizy grabbed Lily and Rosalie’s arms, Brookline swept up Cash and grabbed Chase Jr.’s shoulder, while Gwen gripped her fingers around each twin’s wrist. Brookline, Gwen, and Lizy took the children out of the room, and up into Chase Jr.’s room.


Brookline crept back downstairs just to see if her father had knocked her uncle out. No, it was her mother screaming at her husband.

“Now see here, Chase. You do not yell at your children, you do not yell at your wife, and you certainly never roar at you brother!”

Mam¹, I love you, keep being a supportive wife but also a amazing women and mother. Stay strong.

“Amy, you do not tell me what to do. You changed everything, never letting me drink, never let me do anything. You hate me and your children.” Chase Senior accused wrong. Brookline narrowed her eyebrows and waited for her mother’s words.

Amy started crying, and Nadine walked up to the Welsh women, wrapping her olive-skinned arms around Amy’e middle. Nadine stepped up, jabbing her finger in her brother-in-law’s face, “Chase, you are my brother-in-law; my husband’s brother. But, you do not speak to him like zat, and you definitely do not speak to your wife like zat. You apologize, and maybe they should forgive. I forgive, as my Lord God’s Son, Jesus, is my savior and he gave his life for me, forgiving me of my sins.”

Brookline’s mouth dropped. Her shy soft-spoken aunt never spoke to Chase like that before, nor did the French half-blood speak about Jesus in front of Chase. Tears burned the ends of the Welsh Ravenclaw’s eyes, Brookline never saw her father this way, she hoped her father would stop all this daft nonsense and be the father she always wanted.

Through her tears, Amy bubbled through her words, “Chase, I love you but I do not love this - this version of you; what happened to you? I love the old Chase, bring the old Chase back, please.”

Yes, bring my Daddy back, and throw this bastard in the garbage.

***

Tears glistened in her eyes, as Brookline carefully requested the saucière which held the gravy. Amy grabbed the fragil china with trembling fingers, handing it to her daughter. Chase Senior’s angry seemed to abate, but Brookline had a hunch that her father was just biding his time. She dribbled the gravy on her potatoes, and then deliberately dropped the gravy boat, the expensive china glass tinkling as it shattered. The gravy spilled, and stained the tablecloth.

Amy had seemed to be on autopilot when she caught glance of Brookline’s fingers wrapped around the saucière’s delicate handle. When the gravy boat crashed on the tablecloth, Amy snapped out of her ‘autopilot’ trance, and raced into the kitchen to find her wand. “Oh Brookline!”

Amy quickly traced her wand like an messy ‘S’ and called, “Scourgify!” And the stain disappeared.

Brookline was surprised that her father hadn’t said a single word, or uttered a curse. But everyone wss stricken with silence, and picked at their food. No one was eating anything, and Brookline noticed it. She knew everyone was feeling it, and wished she could do something about it. Fortunately, the adults, Lizy, and Gwen seemed to share a glance and started to rapidly eat their food. This told the younger children to eat their Christmas meal as well. All expect one.

Brookline sat there with shock, no one said a word beside her mother. What was wrong with her? Surely, someone said something. What about Minnie? She was a chatterbox; she tried to crane her ear towards the brunette girl and listened. Not a single word. What the heck was wrong with Brookline?

She dropped her fork, the silverware with a loud clatter on her plate. Everyone glanced up. Thank the Lord, I’m not crazy. Brookline pushed her chair back, and then pushed the chair back in with a mighty slam. She didn’t care if her food got cold.

“Why are we not jolly? This is Christmas. And it hurts to not see you sing as you eat or as least talk. The day Jesus came done to save us all, why are we not thanking him? I know we're not a Christian family, but still Jesus came to save us all. All of us.

Why can’t have a morsel of happiness? Or is it Chase’s fault? My own father; we were all fine until you started screeching at everyone. We, Gwen, Lizy and I, had to bring the children out. Why? Because of you, Dad, you bastard of a father. Dad, you should know what you did wrong, because Cash, a little two-year-old boy knows more than you - you f-” A huge sob escaped her, and she choked. Brookline’s eyes had gone mad, and her hair was wild. She didn’t what to do and didn’t true herself. What was there even left to do? Would she stay in the fake comfort of her father or would her mother do the smart choice and leave her father before Chase Senior took advantage and did it himself?

Oh, will you ever be a good father? Please tell me you were diffrent. Mam is always venting about how you used to be such a great man, and how charming, and sweet and so so kind. Did I change you?

Are you, you because of me, Dad?!

And Brookline couldn’t take it anymore. She had to go. Get some fresh air or something. With the loud slamming of the dining room door, and sprinted to her room, her feet pattering on each step. Once she reached her room, she slammed the door, locked it, and flung herself on her bed. Her head found her pillow, she wrapped it around her head, nearly suffocating herself. That’s when the tears came, one by one and they all ran down her cheeks and neck.

_{to be continued...}

the welsh translations ¹mum/mother

xxx

mentions for lore! @Sage Willows

𝓣ears ran seamlessly down her chin and neck, soaking the porcelain-white pillow, and creating such a racket depressed and ugly noises. Brookline didn’t care anymore, she wanted throw away everything. The pure-blood girl couldn’t believe her father would so such a thing; yell at your preteen daughter when she wasn’t even misbehaving or scream certainly unnecessary at your brother when the man was literally just joking.

Carefully lifting her head from the pillow, Brookline had seemed to comprehend that she still had her long brown boots on. She shook her feet, trying to shift the boot off her foot. Once the boots popped off, she threw one boot with all her might at her bedroom wall; hoping a hole might appear and make her life even more meaningless. She took the other boot and threw it at the sleek door. Didn’t she have everything she wanted? Her family (and herself) were quite wealthy, and she had friends, and had amazing family members (well, most of them). Didn’t she have the great amazing life? Doesn’t she want to live?

Then why do I have a aloof father who wants absolutely nothing to with me? I’m his daughter, his wife, children and I should be his whole world. Not his stupid freakin’ alcohol. Why am I sad?

A little voice peeped up: Because. You want a daddy’s love.

No! I don’t! I want him to bring right to his children and wife. I could care less about me, I’m nothing. My life means nothing. My life means nothing. My life means nothing.

The more she thought, the more she believed it. Brookline wished everything would change and she wasn’t a pure-blood or high class or be crying heavily in this pillow. She would be a muggle-born who lived in early civilization when alcohol wasn’t ever thought of. never created, never drank. Then maybe her father wouldn’t be so remote.

It’s my fault. I changed him with my birth. I changed him. If I didn’t, then who did? Because I want a real family man daddy. Not a alcoholism fan, who never wanted children. Okay, at least that’s what he acts like. Now, Brookline, shut and cry. Then you can lug him straight in the jaw.

Now why? The same little voice peeped up. Y’know it won’t change anything, so why try? Basically, you’re just plainly caught at a bad time with him. Just leave him be.

Brookline rolled her eyes; she hated the way the brain had just the right way of just getting to you. Inner-monologue, her mother called it. And Brookline hated every moment when the ‘person’ inside of her had conversations about things, and now she’s self conscious.

Sobs erupted, and erupted even more when she heard a creak and a swing of a door. Her mother’s scent flooded merciless in the room, and the witch’s comforting presence manipulated with her goosebumps; a contrivance compared to her depressive state.

She couldn’t how her father wanted to change, if she was in Chase Senior’s shoes, she wouldn’t want to change from family man to a mad drunken man. But she still made her look at her mother, at the entrance of the door, she seemed to be down and low, with very little sparkle to no sparkle at all. .

“Now. Sadness gone?” Mrs. Quinn’s desperate answer ringed the silence (besides Brookline’s sobs), her accent a thick Welsh, and she suddenly moved, moving towards the bed, kneeling down on the floor.

The Welsh Ravenclaw felt like a kid as her mother’s warmth wrapped her into a snugly warm cocoon, and all she needed now was hot chocolate and a marshmallow. She felt like a marshmallow for cripe’s sake.

“I mean, no, I guess. I still want to take a swing at him. I mean, I think he’s wants this, like he wants us to get mad, to get angry, make us do the mere bad things, and why does he lie so freaking much? And then when he lies and makes us in trouble, he’s the one who tells the damned police and we’re the ones who he's in trouble when he’s the one who started this - this uncontrollable anger. Oh my gosh, we’re puppets. Dumb-ass puppets! In his stupid plan! Oh what are we gonna do? Mama? Mama, when will it stop? When, tell me when. And please tell me you’re gonna send him away. Soon, we’ll get hurt. Damn, we’re already hurt. One day, he’s gonna stomp all ov- hell, he already does. You see, we’ve get rid of him. As much as I wanted a real family-man father, and, I’m being dead-ass, I wanted his love, it won’t happen anytime soon, I swear. I think it’s my fault he changed. I did it. It’s my fault.” Brookline choked, her dark blue eyes shining in the darkness. She wanted to be anywhere, elsewhere. She wanted her mother to leave, and pay some well-deserved attention to her younger kiddos, and Lizy, or course. She wanted to drown in her tears and go away, forver. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to everything at once, but she also didn’t want anything. She didn’t know what she wanted. She knew she wanted to be alone, but she knew she also wants a friend in this deep deary world, where she was all alone and no one understood her; when would someone actually understand her? When? It feels like forever.


“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” I- It’s my fault, my fault, my fault,” She burst out in a new fresh wave of tears, mumbling curses and insults to herself. Brookline pounded the bed with her fist as she carried the path which insults and cures used to get at herself. She thought that was her fault too.

Amy was quiet, she looked shocked, and tears were starting her own eyes. But she carried on in a warm soft voice, “No, no, no. Brookline, it’s not your fault. Its his. He changed. By his own according. You didn’t chip in, you had zero effort on teamwork, it was all him. You should be proud that he’s stayed this long. You didn’t change his mind, he did. And to be honest, Brooke, he’s been threatening me all these years. Th-that’s why I haven’t given him up. And it would be a disgrace not only to my mother but the Bible says I shouldn’t divorce my husband. I swear to you, my little babbling Brooke, you have zero help in his plans. You made have helped him unknowingly; you bet I have, but as far I see you didn’t help him at all. Now come here.”


Like a little kid, she curled up in her mother’s embrace, mumbling more curses aimed directly to her. Brookline cried, she knew what her mother was going to say next,“Stop. That’s no way to grasp or get a handle on this damn bombshell. You’re going nowhere if you keep telling yourself you are useless, because you’re not. You are a highly educated girl who has meaning in her life. Now I want to repeat back to me, ‘My mother and I think the same thing, I have important things as I am more important and I love to live’.”

Brookline narrowed her eyebrows and scooted away from her mother. “I played a part, and I should live with it. And I’m not important,” She said, plainly and justly. Then glancing up at her mother’s face, her own face paled. “Th-there’s more bad news, huh?” Any numbly but nimbly shook her head.

Looking like she was going to cry, Amy finally got out, hoarse and low, “Your father wants a divorce. He’s wanted one for a while. I was going to tell you after Christmas, but Chase wanted to be his own self today...” Amy shouldn’t of wasted her breath, Brookline had turned away to weep into her pillow.

Amy turned to leave, to exit the room, with her own tears slipping down her face. Whatever she said melted away in the event of her tears.

Lifting her head, Brookline made her mother was gone before sobbing again. She knew sobbing was going to absolutely nothing but what was there to do? After years and months of wanting her parents to split, she’d thought she be beyond happy. But the fact her father never changed or it was her father that brought up the issue, she felt like the enemy had won. And the fact that she and her siblings would be spilt apart made it all better to blame herself.

***

Brookline sat around the Christmas tree with her fellow siblings and cousins. Tears still gleaned in her eyes as her family had their annual early Christmas. It was two hours later, and Brookline watched Lily open her gift from Amy and Chase.

“Oh, wow, a complete replica of Hogwarts, A History! Thank you, Auntie Amy and Uncle Chase!” Lily was a nerd, with her own rules.

Gwen opened hers next. What she revealed was a a pair of dark dragon-hide gloves. Gwen was a bit of a dragon-and-herblogy fan. “Oh, thank Aunt Amy, and Uncle Chase. I love it!” She cried as she pulled the gloves close to her chest.

Rosalie received a new evening dress and a toy dog. The twins each got a little koi fish, and a tank to share. Lizy unwrapped a fantasy book and Exploding Snap, very Cash earned himself a little wind-up toy and a few packages of Pepper Imps. Chase Jr. ripped open his present with joy, to find a wizards chess set and a few sherbet lemons to last him a month. And then Brookline, carefully unwrapping her gift, she swiped a glance at her father. He was sitting next to her mother, knee to knee. His eyes were sunk into his face, and he looked cheerful. He looked genuine. And happy. Who knew, saying you want a divorce, he looks much happy.

I wanna slug him so so so bad. How dare he hurt my mother like that....? Oh, I hurt my mother, maybe I really should be isolated from my family members.

She unwrapped the present from Uncle Flynn and Aunt Nadine carefully. Everyone round, waiting patiently, mouths closed. The wrapping paper didn’t make a single sound. What was wrong with her? Quiet. Everything was quiet. Too quiet. Where is this bout of quietness coming from?

Why is it so quiet? I think I’m deaf. Am I? I can see Uncle Flynn and Mum share a look, are they talking? And Gwen, her mouth is moving. Is she speaking? I’m going to explode.

And just to make sure she wasn’t deaf, Brookline pulled her hand back, and ripped at the paper, the paper making a clean loud ripping sound.

Oh thank the Lord!! Oh thank you, Lord, for sending Your Son down.

She glanced back up to see her father. He seemed have this look directly at her. Chase Senior had his lips pursed into a frown. His blue eyes looked dangerous, and he scared the living crap out of Brookline. Then quickly as possible, his frown and dangerous-looking eyes disappeared and retired with a smile of cheerfulness.

He knows something. And he’s winning. I better act like I love my father. He’s winning. He's winning. What the hell?

Brookline felt weird as she unwrapped the rest of her Christmas Eve gift, she made a show of a small smile, to show at least her father she liked him. Revealing a pair of shining gold Omnioculars, she smiled. Standing up, trembling, she went to hug Aunt Nadine and Uncle Flynn who both sat the love seat, their knees and legs facing each other, and Nadine was slouching, her head slightly leaning against her lover. Brookline simply didn’t want her father to see the tear trailing down her face. “Thank you, Aunt Nadine and Uncle Flynn,” She whispered so softly that Aunt Nadine and Uncle Flynn had to lead forward to hear.

Then swinging back to glance at her father, Brookline realized what he was going to do to this family; hurt them, and he’s already hurt her. Chase Senior looked up like he had zero idea what she was yapping about. Instantly her face crumpled.

Stop it. You’re not hurting my family. Go back where you came from, you bastard.

And with that, she retreated swiftly up the stairs into her room, where she’d soak her pillow with her tears again? When would the hurt stop?

_finished...