A cold wind blew across a silent desolate garden. A thick blanket of snow caressed every blade of glass. Near the battered old fence stood a tree, tall and stoic, its claw-like branches scratched against the cold windowpane. The sound echoing through the property like nails down a blackboard. The frightened child inside the house shook with cold and fear, knowing not a single soul could save him from the evil that lurked outside. Tears welled in his eyes and his small frame trembled. Would the evil outside come for him next?

A voice shouted. Rage shot through the house from downstairs. Deep and loud, it bellowed. Words no child should ever hear spat across the room, like daggers. Sharp and painful. A second voice screamed. It was higher pitched than the first.

Blah. Blah. Blah. At first, that's how it sounded to a child no older than eight, nothing more than white noise. Shivers ran down his back. His small cold hands clenched his ears. His eyes tightly closed. He struggled to block out what was going on below him.

Inside his young mind, he tried to go to his happy place. A place of his imagination and far away from the distress of reality. He thought about his friends and their Christmas Eve. Each filled with joy and happiness that Christmas should be about, exchanging presents in the morning and enjoying their filling dinner of turkey with all the trimmings. The boy couldn't see the future. He didn't know what tomorrow, Christmas Day, would bring, but he dreaded waking up in the morning to more of the same. The shouting, the swearing, the lies and the cheating, not to mention the affairs.

The secrets had started. Mum checking Dad's phone. He's seen her the day before. Dad, staying out at night, longer and longer, failing to come home. Whispers all around the family home that bled into the boy's school. Was it Mrs Hill this time? Or perhaps the boys au pair like before. There one minute, gone the next. Lilly was the best Nanny the boy had ever had. But where was she now? He'd heard she'd gone to have a baby, but would never forget the way she was given her marching orders.

'Homewrecker'. That's the word his mum had used as she pounded her clenched fists against the young woman's bedroom door, followed by words he knew were wrong but couldn't understand their meaning. He watched from his bedroom door, his teddy's hand gripped between his fingers. His blue eyes watched the scene unfold. Mum kicked off a stiletto shoe and used it to bang against the door. A deep male voice spoke from inside the au pairs room, followed by that of Lilly, herself.

"It's not what you think, Laura." Wept the frightened girl. "It just happened."

"I let you into my home and my family..." the boy's mother screamed hysterically, her fists still hammered on the door, "and you repay me by jumping into bed with my husband!"

The boy retreated to his room and closed the door behind him. He crawled into his bed, pulling the pillows over his ears to block out the venom being exchanged by the three adults who meant the world to him. His attention changed to the brown paper bag under his bed full of Christmas gifts for his family, Lilly included. His young mind was full of confusion. Should he give it to her and risk upsetting his mum? Or leave it be, least said, sooner mended and all that.

But that was last Christmas, and Lilly was long gone. Dad, however, stayed. The boy knew, however, that things would never be the same. All the laughter and fun-filled jokes were a thing of the past. His parents were still together, but in name only. Mum said good morning to Dad, who said good morning to her. But it was in the cold tones of their voices that the boy could tell they put on an act.

Back to his happy place. The roar of the crowd at the stadium of his dreams. He watched his favourite team run around the pitch, against their rivals. His eyes were wide and full of joy as he eyed every move, every goal and every celebration.

A scream snapped the boy out of his imagination and brought him back to reality. His happy place, just figments of a dream. It sounded like a monster, like a ginormous hysterical beast crashing through the house and trashing everything in its path. Something scraped across the wooden dining room floor. A chair perhaps, he thought. A thundering noise echoed through the house. The boy leapt from his bedroom cocoon and crept towards the door. He listened. But not a sound did he hear. He waited. Waited for what, he didn't know.

Fear engulfed his body but he pushed it away. He took the first step out of his bedroom and quietly closed the door behind him as he moved towards the stairs. He listened. He could hear sobbing, and feel the sense of destruction that lingered in the air. 

Forcing the fear away, he crept down the old creaking staircase, carefully taking each step at a time. He reached the hallway, the door to the dining room was slightly open. A dim light flickered from inside. He could see a shape sitting on a chair, legs of another chair lay fallen on the floor, tinged with red.

The boy pushed the door a fraction. A figure lay slumped on the floor. Dad. A river of blood as red as holly, ran from his head. Dad's glazed eyes stared at the ceiling.

This was one Christmas the boy knew he would never forget.

Word Count: 962