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On the eve of my sixteenth birthday, I kept my usual vigil in the living room. I always decorated it extra special, with ornaments I had made, decorating the tree, and a dozen holly-scented candles illuminating the small room. I did not try any of the tricks to stay awake that I had before. I was content to wait until Santa was ready.That night I felt a special excitement. “Was this the night?” I thought.A little after midnight, I heard the faint sound of jingle bells getting louder and louder. Then the sound of many hooves on the roof reached my ears, followed by the loud whomp of two runners landing over me.My heart raced, finally, I was going to meet the man I had dreamed about all these years. I panicked. Did I look good enough? Should I put on some cologne or make-up? Then I remembered that this was Santa. He did not care what you looked like, just the content of your character.I heard heavy footsteps overhead, walking toward the chimney.There was a loud gust of air coming out of. Did he hurt you? My silence was all the answer she needed. That night he came to my room again. She was asleep in the bed beside mine, unaware until she heard my soft crying after he left. She climbed into bed with me and held me as I shook. This became our ritual until we reached 18. By then she had gotten a job and saved up enough money to get a small apartment. We finally moved out and got away from him. But I still cried every night, shaking, sometimes waking up screaming. And always she was there, holding me and comforting me. Tonight Danny was working. I fell asleep waiting for her to get home, waking up crying in a cold sweat. I lay there crying quietly, wishing Danny was there to help, until I heard the front door close softly. I closed my eyes as she slipped quietly into the room. I felt her lift the covers and softly slide in beside me, trying not to move around too much, thinking I was still asleep. I knew I couldnt hide the wetness on the pillow where my tears had.
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