The Christmas Present

**Trigger warning: mental health, physical violence, gore, substance abuse, foul language.

I looked at the small container as it perched upon my coffee table. The box, a merry red color with a glittering silver bow at the top, rested innocuously. I stared at it. It stared back.

“What the fuck!” I huffed aloud. The only reply came from the ticking analog clock by the front door. 7:00 PM.

I shifted on my soft ivory couch and reached for the gift tag. I became annoyed again as I reread its typed contents: ‘To my daughter. Love, Dad.'

“Why!?" I expressed with exasperation, "Why now!?”

I had been a mix of emotions since he left exactly one year ago today- Christmas day. Shock and grief transformed into anger and resentment. A continuous cycle. I remembered the day vividly.

I had been over at my parents’ house, celebrating with the usual food, presents, bickering, and disfunction. With my alcoholic dad and psychotic mom, it was tradition. It was just the three of us, as the festivities with extended family had long since come to an end due to my parents (and, admittedly, myself) having issues; and nobody wanted to deal with the maladjusted side anymore. On that fateful evening, at about 7:30PM, Mom and Dad had one of their usual arguments when Dad pronounced in a slurred voice, “I’m going for a walk and never coming back!’ We hadn’t expected him to mean it this time.

After what felt like an all too brief investigation, the police department had deemed him voluntarily missing. That is, he did not want to be found, and they were not obligated to tell his family his whereabouts. And just like that, the case was closed. Then it was just me and Mom.

Things were strained with the two of us since then. I was dubious in the police’s findings, but my mom accepted the result, making me question myself. I guessed that she trusted their skills since her brother was a cop. But while I became more combative and obsessional, she became more distant and detached. 

Still, I went to her house earlier this afternoon. Using my key to get in, I had called for her and did a quick search of the dark unadorned house, without bothering the attic or the basement, finding nothing amiss except her full prescription bottle sitting on the kitchen counter.

Must have gotten a refill, I half-heartedly thought to myself.

She wasn't home. Despite my disdain for her lately, I felt sad until I saw her note by the door as I left. 

'Presents at 7:30 tonight :)' it read, making me feel somewhat delighted yet wary. Is this note for her or did she assume I'd stop by, I wondered.  

It was then that I came home and discovered the gift sitting at the front door of my apartment, placed there anonymously while I was gone, with no other markings or label.

Now here I sat, emotions swirling about, unable to decide whether to indulge in my father’s feeble attempt at communication or throw it in the trash where it belonged.

“Ugh!” I exclaimed out loud as I succumbed to my curiosity.

I gently took the little box in my palm. With no tape holding it together, I easily lifted the top. Glaring up at me was a shiny gold object. Confusion overtook annoyance as I peered down at the metallic key. Hesitantly, I raised the key, using my pointer finger and thumb, to inspect it. Unsure if it went to a mailbox, a padlock, or even a small door lock, it appeared innocent enough. So why was my stomach doing flip-flops? Then, I saw it. A gift tag, attached to it with a string in the key ring loop. It had an address on it. My heart raced as I read the typed words audibly.

"'999 Augur Lane. I’m here. Come find me.'"

“What!!!??” I cried out, jumping from my seat, causing all the contents to crash to the floor.

Kneeling to reread the card, now afraid to touch it, disconcertment struck me as I recognized my parents’ address.

“Wait… Dad is home?” I whispered to myself, incredulously. I remembered my house key in my hoodie pocket and took it out to compare the two. They were the same brassy color but with contrasting ridges and sizes, indicating they went to two different locks. Unwillingly, disbelief began to transform into elation.

“Dad is home!” I exclaimed as I stumbled my way up from the floor, grabbing both the key and a grocery bag containing snacks and the 'just-in-case' gift I had bought for Mom a week ago.

The clock hands read 7:15 PM. Suddenly, I was disheveled and clumsy. I ran out of my front door, slipping in slush as I looked in surprise at the snow flurries falling around me in the darkness. Not ideal without my winter coat. 

"Okay, you have GOT to calm down," I scolded myself as I turned back to get my coat.

I took a few deep breaths then as a reminder that I need to walk and drive carefully if I want to get to my parents' place in one piece. 

"Aww," I stated out loud, feeling a warmth wash over me at the thought of the word, parents. They might have been a couple of fucked up individuals, but they were mine and I couldn't wait to get over there.

I wanted to scream as a I drove at a snail's pace, convinced I could have run there quicker just on adrenaline alone. After what felt like a lifetime, I pulled up to their house. I could see the Christmas tree lit from the window, decorative lights all around the bushes outside as well as around the roof's edge, surmising Mom accomplished this task after I left here earlier.

Using the front door key, I let myself in after receiving no answer to my knocking. Though the scene before me was brighter and cheerier, it was the same as before, empty. I dopped my coat and bag at the entrance.

"Mom??" I called out.

Nothing.

"Dad...??" I said not quite as loudly.

Immediately, eagerness turned into unease as I saw no sign of anyone. I found myself for the second time today searching the house. Where were they? 

I recalled the gifted key in my jeans pocket and took it out. Reading the words once more: 'I'm here. Come find me.' 

"Oh," I whispered quietly, "they're probably messing with me. Weirdos."

Spotting the attic door, I looked at the key and decided to try it. I dragged a nearby barstool from the counter and used it to hoist myself up so I could unlock and pull down the affixed ladder. With steady hands I tried the lock, but the key didn't fit. 

"Hmmm," I wondered audibly as I glanced about, trying to figure out where to try next. Then it hit me.

"The basement!" I exclaimed excitedly.

I scurried off the stool and headed out the back door, foregoing my coat in excitement. As I stepped outside, the snow crunching under my feet, I came upon the wooden doors that that rested on the ground, dimly visible from the colorful lights above. I brought the key, still with the tag attached, out of my jeans pocket. All at once though, my enthusiasm was overshadowed by intense dread. 

I looked at the basement's padlock and then back at the key in my increasingly shaking hand. At the same that time my gut was telling me to run away, my mind eclipsed it with thoughts of rationale.

"Stop being stupid," I whispered to myself, forcing myself to think logically. "It's fine. It's Mom and Dad."

With that, I took in a long breath, stooped down and, with a trembling hand, placed the key into the padlock. It fit perfectly. I breathed out a sigh of relief. Using the momentum of respite, I didn't delay as I opened the heavy wooden doors, one at a time.

The shadows allowed me to see nothing. With the blinking Christmas lights not helping my sight, I was relieved when I saw a flashlight positioned nearby in the snow, faintly surprised that it hadn't been buried yet beneath the dustings. Picking it up and turning it on high, I peered down. It took just a moment for my eyes to focus and that's when I saw him. My heart fell into my stomach as I gaped at Dad.

The skeletal being lied sprawled on his back, contorted unnaturally, with crimson stains encompassing him. He wore the same blue plaid coat he had when he left us last Christmas.

I backed away in horror as my head spun and my stomach lurched, emptying the contents into the snow. Hunched over with tears streaming down my face, I gasped and tried to scream out, choking instead. Then I heard a voice so sinister it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"I see you found your present."

I whirled around to see my mother right upon me in just her white robe and slippers. Her golden-brown eyes were unrecognizable, appearing almost black and void of life. 

I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. I wanted to fight. I wanted to ask why. But fear had me in its clinches, keeping me voiceless and frozen. And so, all I could do was watch helplessly as she took both her hands and, with all the strength she could muster, pushed me down to my death.