"You don't look great," Joseph said, walking into the kitchen and taking a seat beside me. I sat staring at an untouched bowl of cereal. "And if you don't start eating, I'll tell Mom."

"Tattletale," I smiled and nudged him with my elbow, ignoring his remark about my appearance.

"Seriously, when's the last time you slept?"

I watched him from the corner of my eye, embarrassed by my answer. "Four nights ago," I admitted.

Every time I tried to close my eyes, my birth mother was there to terrorize me. Memories I had forgotten were brought front and center, scarring my nights with pain and fear. I hated being weak. I hated relying on Noah to take my pain away. He'd be home in less than a day and I didn't want him to see me like this.

"Pumpkin, you need to sleep."

"Easier said than done, brother."

"Well, you could sleep on the couch and when you start fidgeting, I'll wake you up."

I was just tired enough to hope that would work. I nodded as Joseph followed me into the living room. I rested my head on the pillow and spread out on the love seat. Joseph wrapped a blanket around me before going to the couch with a book he'd been reading.

When I woke up, it was dark outside and Joseph was gently shaking my shoulder. "You were whimpering... I didn't want you to be scared."

I had been having a dream about my birth mother but it didn't affect me as I thought it would. It was a horrible memory, but I wasn't shaking and my heart wasn't pounding in my chest. I felt more rested and decided I could sleep the whole night there on the loveseat. I dismissed Joseph with a thank you. He nodded and moved to his room with a glance back to make sure I was okay.

❃❃❃

Gabriella and Gabriel sat on the floor with their new toys, making imitation police sirens and baby wails with their mouths. Momma was on the couch watching a Christmas movie, downing a bottle of eggnog. I was hidden in the bathroom nursing a bleeding cut on my shoulder.

I should have known better than to burn the gravy. It was essential to most of the Christmas dinner, I knew that.

Momma just had to shove me away from the stove with the hand she was cutting potatoes with. I'm sure she didn't mean to cut me like that. I was only six. Six-year-olds didn't get cut with knives by their mommy's.

"Eden, get me another glass of eggnog!" I plastered a sheet of toilet paper to my shoulder, my little fingers pressing at the blood. It hurt to touch it with water so I just covered it with the paper, hoping it would be enough. I put my shirt back over it, as Momma yelled, "Don't make me cuss on Christmas!"

I ran to the kitchen, hopping over the piles of presents my brother and sister got.

Momma said Santa didn't like me this year. Momma said maybe if I could have helped cook a good Christmas dinner, Santa might bring me a small gift. Momma said the burned gravy shot that out the damned window. I understood.

I grabbed Momma's glass and filled it up with eggnog to the very top, just like she liked it. I didn't flinch when I moved my arm. I knew Momma hated flinchers. I wanted Momma happy on Christmas. Christmas was good. I'd be good.

"Didn't you wash your hands! Is that blood on my glass?" my momma screamed. I shook my head. "Are you lying to me now, Eden?" I nodded.

"Go to your room. You can only get out when I need a new drink. Santa and I hate you tonight. If I find blood anywhere it's not supposed to be, you are going to get it."

I nodded, tears welling up but they couldn't drop. I tried to be good for Mommy. I didn't care about Santa. I didn't need presents, I wanted Momma. I traveled down the stairs quietly.

In my room, I took off my bloody sweater and picked off the soiled toilet paper. I dabbed at the bleeding cut with an old t-shirt, hoping my momma wouldn't come down here and see what I was doing. I hoped it would stop soon. I was feeling dizzy and Momma said I couldn't leave my room.

When a thin scab formed on my shoulder, I laid down without my shirt and listened for when Momma would need more eggnog. She always needed more eggnog on Christmas.

"Get up! Get me more eggnog!" I was jolted awake by the sounds of Momma's voice. I hurriedly put a shirt on and ran upstairs to fill my momma's drink request.

The twins were still playing around the Christmas tree. I thought maybe they might go to bed soon. I wished they all would so I could sneak up and sit by the tree, imagining that Momma and Santa liked me and I got dolls, too.

I washed my hands and poured Momma another glass. She was drunk, I could tell.

I hoped nobody would notice if I just hid behind the couch and imagined I got presents like my brother and sister, imagined I was a part of things too. And maybe she wouldn't be able to tell if I got a little scoop of mashed potatoes.

"Go to your room, Eden," Momma slurred. "I can hear you shuffling. You know what I told you," she snapped. I listened but not fast enough.

Momma stood up and pulled me downstairs by the arm, reopening my scab. She slapped me on the mouth and said, "There's blood on my hands. It shouldn't be there. You know what I told you."

Her hand came down before I could prepare for it.

❃❃❃

I didn't scream when I woke up. I only cried.

I remembered that Christmas. I remembered trying so hard to feel included. I had worked so hard to make my part of Christmas dinner perfect.

Now, looking back, six-year-olds weren't supposed to know how to make gravy or pumpkin pie. Six-year-olds were supposed to play with their new toys with their older siblings. Six-year-olds weren't meant to stuff a bleeding wound with toilet paper because they didn't know how important it was to clean it out first.

I remembered feeling like I messed everything up. I remembered feeling disgusted at myself for getting blood on my birth mother's eggnog glass and hands. I remember fearing I'd ruined my mother's Christmas because I burned the gravy.

I was angry at my childhood. I deserved better. I never deserved to be treated the way I did. Adam did not leave my birth mother because of me. My "father" left because my "mother" cheated on him. And what kind of shitty father does that anyway? Abandons his children because of something their mother did?

I owed it to myself to stop letting my birth mother get to me. I knew I was in a better place, I just needed to accept that my old life wasn't my life anymore. I moved to my room and fell back asleep, refusing to give my nightmares any more power. They could scare me all they wanted but they wouldn't hurt me anymore.

❃❃❃

"Edith, I'm home," Noah whispered at the door but I refused to answer. I was glad he was home, really I was. But it was too early for him to be bothering me.

"Good, Noah. Now come back in an hour," I groaned out at him. I could almost feel his pout.

"Baby, I missed you and I wanna tell you all my stories."

Noah was getting into my bed. He pulled my body against him and I involuntarily shivered. I could feel his abs through my thin tank top and fought with myself to either stay asleep or slide my fingers across his abdomen. His lips were at my throat and he was kissing and speaking to me, the vibrations making my body numb.

"I've missed you," Noah uttered. His tongue teased the place below my ear. "You smell so good," he continued with a kiss on my collarbone. "Please wake up so I can see your beautiful eyes." I groaned and jolted my legs indignantly, unavoidably brushing my entire body against his. "And don't do that again if you don't want me to burst into flames," Noah's voice strained.

I finally opened my eyes and came face to face with my hot, hot, hot, boyfriend. His time at camp had done him good. His skin was more tan and it offset his Crystalline eyes and blonde hair perfectly. He didn't have a shirt on and his muscles rippled even as he breathed. Granted, he was breathing quite heavily for whatever reason.

"Good morning, pretty," Noah crowed.

"Good morning, Noah," I giggled and kissed him softly on the lips. Apparently, that wasn't enough for my boyfriend as he grabbed my chin and kissed me like his life depended on it. Noah didn't give a crap about morning breath.

"Joseph said you didn't sleep very well this week. Why didn't you tell me when I called you?"

"You'd have wanted to come home and I didn't want you to do that. Joseph is so dramatic. Besides, I slept really well last night," I beamed at him, feeling good about not having to have Noah to get a good night's sleep.

"No nightmares?" Noah asked.

"No, I had nightmares. I've just decided that I won't let them bother me anymore," I declared. I pulled his lips back to mine, more eager to remind Noah of how much I'd missed him than to talk about my old life.