Merry Christmas to Me

Trigger warning: domestic violence

I wake up to the sunlight hitting my face and temporarily blinding me.

Slowly lifting Lucifer’s hand splayed on my stomach, I take off the blanket, only to be hit by the cold wind flowing in from the open windows.

I place my feet on the ice-cold floor and regret not wearing something warmer last night.

Getting up to close the windows, the warm rays of light reaching my face give me temporary comfort.

The view from the window can only be described as a winter wonderland. The snow covers everything, Christmas lights and trees poking out from underneath the layer. The snowmen which took so long to make are slowly melting with the sun’s slight heat.

Today is Christmas Eve.

The one day before a holiday that has the same importance as the holiday itself.

I debate on whether to wake Lucifer up, but then I let him be.

Last night was blurry. A lot of words were exchanged, past incidents were brought up, glasses were thrown, wine was spilt, carpets were stained.

After brushing my teeth, I go downstairs, putting on a sweater hanging on a hook by the stairs.

I go to the living room, praying that it was all just a bad dream.

I’m wrong.

The state of the room only confirms everything that I knew had transpired last night.

Tying my hair into a quick bun, I start picking up the pieces of glass, careful not to cut my hand.

I mop up all the sticky dried-up wine from the floor, its rich red colour looking almost like blood, and stuff the carpet in the washing machine.

Making myself some coffee, I sit on the couch absentmindedly, considering doing it today.

Yes, I will do it today.

I will break up with Lucifer.

It’s long overdue.

“Babe. Babe, where are you?” Lucifer’s voice says faintly, sounding like it’s coming from upstairs.

“I’m downstairs, kitchen.”

I run to the kitchen and start making him some coffee.

He hugs me from behind, almost making me drop the mug.

“Morning Eva.”

“Morning,” I say, putting on a fake cheery voice.

“I’m sorry about what happened last night, I got out of control,” he says, his face still in my hair.

“That’s okay babe.”

“Now you better apologize, or you know what I’ll do.”

I quickly apologize before he gets violent, like last night.

He hugs me tighter, and whispers ‘I love you’ into my ear.

I say it back and turn around to kiss him.

Lucifer is perfect.

He may get violent sometimes, he may hit me or force himself on me when I’m not feeling it, but he loves me.

And I love him.

All thoughts of breaking up with him vanish from my mind as he deepens the kiss, tangling his fingers in my hair.

We’re interrupted by the sound of the water boiling.

I turn around to turn off the stove, and he continues kissing my neck, and moaning in displeasure that I’m not kissing him back.

I make the coffee and give him the mug.

He places the mug on the counter and effortlessly picks me up, carrying me up the stairs and not letting go of my lips.

“I want you. Now.”

He pulls off my clothes and instructs me on what he wants me to do to him.

As he moans in pleasure, I’m thanking my stars that his mood is not too bad today.

******

“What if we go out to a restaurant tonight?”

I look up in surprise.

“Like – like on a date?”

He smirks, “Yeah, like on a date.”

I blush.

Muttering something about getting ready, I sprint up the stairs and close the bedroom door, trying to calm my rapidly beating heart.

He wants to take me out.

It feels just like the first time I met him.

He had smirked at me the exact same way.

He still wanted me.

Something about that thought made me go all warm.

I was still on his good side.

Thank God.

******

“How’s the food?”

“It’s wonderful,” I say, wiping off a bit of sauce from my mouth.

“Here, let me do it,” he says, taking his finger to my lips.

He bites his lip, and I can feel my stomach doing somersaults.

The waiter comes over with two glasses of champagne.

“But we didn’t order champagne,” I say, confused.

The waiter smiles at Lucifer and leaves.

I sip a bit of the champagne, and there it is.

The thing I was most afraid of.

Lying at the bottom of the glass.

A diamond ring.

I look at Lucifer in shock, and in a quick motion, he drinks my glass of champagne, catching the ring in between his teeth.

As he gets on his knees, all the other patrons in the restaurant look at us, some taking pictures and some kicking their dates for not being as romantic.

“Evangeline Ferrera, will you marry me?”

“Of course I will.”

He slides the ring on my finger, and I gaze at it, admiring its beauty.

I move to kiss him, and then suddenly everything goes black.

******

I wake up with a splitting headache and sunlight hitting my face.

Slowly lifting Lucifer’s hand splayed on my stomach, I take off the blanket, only to be hit by the cold wind flowing in from the open windows.

I place my feet on the ice-cold floor and regret not wearing something warmer last night.

Getting up to close the windows, the warm rays of light reaching my face give me temporary comfort.

The view from the window can only be described as a winter wonderland. The snow covers everything, Christmas lights and trees poking out from underneath the layer. The snowmen which took so long to make are slowly melting with the sun’s slight heat.

Wait.

This happened yesterday.

Something is wrong.

Then it hits me.

The silence.

It’s Christmas today.

I can’t hear any Christmas carols.

I look at my finger.

It’s empty.

I take off the blankets to Lucifer’s protests and put my hand under the mattress and pillow.

I look under the bed and on the dresser.

It’s gone.

I turn on my phone, and the lock screen is enough to send me reeling.

December 24^th.

I run downstairs, and the mess from two days ago is still there.

I clean up as fast as I can, anything to distract myself from reality.

The fact that I’m reliving today again.

“Babe. Babe, where are you?” Lucifer’s voice says faintly, sounding like it’s coming from upstairs.

“I’m downstairs, living room.”

He comes into view and sees me cleaning up.

“What is this mess?”

“Nothing to worry about.”

“That’s my girl.”

Same as yesterday, well, today, he carries me upstairs and makes me do as he pleases.

What is happening?

Suddenly, I’m hit by a realization.

He’s going to propose today.

******

“Evangeline Ferrera, will you marry me?”

“Yes, babe.”

He slides the ring on my finger, and I move to kiss him, wanting this bad dream to end.

Everything goes black.

******

I wake up with a splitting headache.

Internally praying that it’s Christmas, I stretch my hand out to get my phone.

December 24^th.

Goddammit.

I go downstairs once again.

******

“Evangeline Ferrera, will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes, yes! This is the third time now!”

“What do you mean the third –?”

I cut him off, trapping his lips with mine.

I open my eyes, only to feel it all going black.

******

I wake up, feeling nauseous.

Throwing up on my side of the bed, I wipe off sweat and the hair that’s stuck to my forehead.

Reaching for my phone, I turn it on.

December 24^th.

I throw up some more.

******

Today, when he carries me upstairs, I tell him I’m feeling sick.

He hits me.

As he moans in pleasure, I throw up on him.

He hits me harder, his elbow digging into my stomach.

******

“I can’t come today; I need some rest.”

“Please.”

“Lucifer.”

Wordlessly, he comes to me, and squeezes my arm, leaving red marks.

I bite my lip, suppressing my scream.

“We’re going, cool babe?" he says, smiling.

******

“Evangeline Ferrera, will you marry me?”

I throw up.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

As he tries to put the ring on my finger, I faint, falling on the ground, my knees landing on my vomit.

******

I wake up, the sunlight only worsening my headache.

No ring on my finger.

Is the nightmare over?

The phone declares that it isn’t.

Freaking Christmas Eve.

******

“Evangeline Ferrera, will you marry me?”

“No.”

He throws the glass of champagne on me.

I feel champagne and blood running down my face.

Red.

******

Today I wake up, and I know that it’s still Christmas Eve without even checking.

Silently, I pack up my clothes and belongings, stuffing them into the one bag I have.

I take a bath, scrubbing away the horror that was the past five times I tried to live this day.

But now I know.

There is only one way to end this cycle.

That is to do the right thing.

The thing I should have done a long time ago.

I carry my luggage downstairs, trying to be as quiet as possible.

I take one last look at the house.

The living room is now Lucifer’s to clean.

Suddenly possessed by an urge, I walk to the living room and take a piece of glass.

I lightly scrape my ring finger, wincing at the sting.

This better work.

After reaching the airport, I call him, praying that it goes to voicemail.

It doesn’t.

“I’m breaking up with you,” I say, and hang up before he can get a word in.

I go to my parents’ house, explaining the situation.

My father threatens to kill Lucifer after I tell them all of it, minus the reliving Christmas Eve part.

“On the bright side, that means you’ll be there to spend Christmas with us this time.”

“I hope.”

******

I wake up, and this time, I look at my finger.

There is no ring.

Instead, there is a small scar barely visible anymore, but it is there.

I can’t believe it.

Reaching for my phone, I turn it on, my heart beating faster and faster.

December 25^th.

Christmas.

Finally.

I’m unable to suppress my scream of joy, and as my parents run in, scared, I start jumping around, dancing with them and singing Christmas carols.

♫ Deck the halls with boughs of holly

Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la

'Tis the season to be jolly

Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la ♫

‘Tis the season to be jolly indeed.

Merry Christmas to me.

******