#tsoc

12:59am 25th December 2023, New York City.

Among the nothingness of sleep, you could hear in the distance the sound of little bells jingling. You groaned, cracking your eyes open slowly. The sound was becoming more persistent and volumed.

It was freezing! The management still hadn’t fixed the heating system. You shivered and dug deeper into the duvet layers of your bed. You reached for your phone to check the time.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” you grumbled before rolling over onto your back. All memory of Marlene’s visit had disappeared from your mind.

You stared up at the plain ceiling. Your eyes grew hazy while your mind dissociated into thought. A single tear rolled from your eye.

God, you hated Christmas so much. You tried ignoring all the years. You tried pushing back the pain. You tried thinking about your jobs and tasks still incomplete. You tried not to think about how lonely you were, how unfulfilled you felt deep down. A mean tug at your chest made you hiss.

The ceilings image morphed into spots and shapes of different kinds...and when you chose to focus your eyes you could see the flecks of shadow clashing with light, wrapping and drawing out the shape of a person walking towards you.

You leant back and felt the mattress still under you. What you were seeing had to be part of some strange dream. You concluded you’d fallen back to sleep.

Gravity didn’t apply in this scenery.

The ceiling opened up, glowing in a soft calming light. The figure kept walking it’s way towards you. The closer he got the more you could acknowledge his face and good looks. He was lean and clean shaven, a depiction of youth. His hair was the colour of dark roasted chestnuts. He wore a white sweater.

‘Woah, what a weird dream...but look at how handsome he is.’

As if he heard your thoughts loud and clear he smiled with sparkling white teeth. Still unsure of reality, you lifted your hand up high to the ceiling. He did the same. He reached out with his palm out.

Your finger tips touched and you gasped at how warm and inviting he felt. Your mind ran filthy. You bit your bottom lip before lurching off the bed to the ceilings opening window into the handsome man’s arms. You swore you knew him. Something about that smile. You couldn’t place it though. Butterflies filled your insides.

His eyes were a blue that matched mountains. His cheeks sharp and strong but that smile was ageless.

You shyly bit the tip of your finger and giggled, “Kiss me.”

He cupped your face and accepted your advance without hesitation. His lips leant forward and met your starved mouth.

He was slow, sweet like vanilla. He pulled away and nibbled at your lips, sucking and licking with you. He was perfect. You were the first to pull away, panting and mewling. Your body rubbed up against his again. One of his arms cupped your back while his other hand cupped your cheek and ran his thumb over your bottom lip.

You felt his muscles, his hot body. His arms tightly held you, protecting you from the world and claiming you as his.

In your head this all made sense. Deep down you had met before, but where...God where had you met him? It ached not knowing fully.

Pulling away you moaned, “Fuck me. Please.”

You took his ginormous hands and pressed them against your breasts. Only a thin piece of satin separated your skin to his skin. You knew he’d be able to feel your nipples pebbling under his palms.

You kissed and nibbled along his jaw, panting, “I’m not wearing anything underneath.” And that was true. You underwear had gone missing after you had played with your toy while imagining a rape play scene. You looked up at him with doe eyes fluttering. Your fingers pinched the hem of your night gown. He smirked, his fingers danced up your thighs, and by your surprise....he forced your hem down.

His eyes burned bright blue, almost glowing as the world around you both faded black. His head shook lightly at you, his wet lips parted, and he whispered into the open air, “Be not afraid Y/N as I shine the light on your past.”

Your head jerked back, your eyes squinted, ‘What the fuck?’

The question filled your mind and escaped through your lips, “Who are you?”

The handsome stranger rubbed his thumbs into your palms and said with heralding tones, “I am he who sees past, present and future tidings upon the grandeur of Christmas day. I am The Spirit of Christmas. But you…may call me Chris.”

“Chris?” You blinked and rebuffed in an fit of laughter. You shook your head, disbelieving and feeling that heat of anger rise.

“The Spirit of Christmas,” you cackled, “I really did have too much to drink to be having weird dreams like this. You kiss me and tell me that you’re some mystic being?”

His lips flicked up, bemused, “You asked for that kiss, I merely obliged such a sweet request.”

Humiliation bloomed in the pit of your belly. You felt hot in the face and grit your teeth.

His thumbs ran over the pulse of your wrists, his eyes were crowned in a false innocence.

Your eyes glowered in seconds, “Go fuck yourself, Chris,” you fumed.

You shoved his hands away and turned around trying to imagine something else, hoping the dream would change or you would wake up. You stumped short and jumped back as your path was blocked by a horrific sight. A naked woman in the darkness, chained and kneeling at your feet. Marlene.

The memories flood back into your mind. Her ethereal form floating your bed with her frozen heart and warning words. Except she was no ghost in this form. She was hauntingly thin like a skeleton, the loos skin of her belly and breasts hung down, her skin was discoloured and sickly, her cheeks hallowed and her hair thin, balding. Her teeth were black, gums rotten, her chest made this awful whistling noise as she struggled to breath. Her finger nails were red and cracked. She was chained to the floor. She looked up at you with sad bloodshot eyes, shaking her head at you.

“Go with him Y/N, he is your last chance…” she shivered as if a cold wind had prickled her flesh. Her head hung low.

His heavy hand laid down bearing weight onto your shoulder. You gasped and looked back at him with fear. His face appeared mournful as he acknowledged Marlenes decrypted state. Those blue eyes you were enchanted by moments ago sent an icy chill down your spine as his attention turned to you.

“Come,” he softly beckoned, “Let this soul pay it’s penance…”

You licked your dry lips and tried to keep your cool without revealing your fear. You nodded, not chancing your voice breaking in an exchange. His palm held back out to you. You glared at him. With defeat and the tiniest tremble in your fingers, you finally tucked your hand into his, feeling his warm fingers wrap around you, you had to admit, it felt nice. He squeezed it softly and walked, guiding you away from the living corpse of Marlene’s soul.

After some time of walking away until Marlenes image disappeared.

The shadows felt literally heavy, weigh you down in what felt like a fight against gravity. You recalled a time you trudged through the snow up to your waist. It felt like this, yet there was only silence.

His hand was still wrapped around yours, tugging you forward mercilessly.

You felt like you could have tripped in the black abyss.

“Sp-spirit?” you finally dared to ask, “Spirit…where are you taking me?”

And then he stopped. You could hear his sigh and felt the air around you grow colder. This sexy dream had quickly turned into a foreboding nightmare. A flame of light flickered in the palm of his other hand, it was like supernatural magic.

He pulled you in closer and his other hand came around and slapped your backside.

You shrieked and tried shoving him back, “Ow! What the hell! That hurt!”

He chortled, “Yes, the past can hurt, especially yours,” his finger scratched under your chin, “But it can also heal if you learn from it.”

The floor beneath your feet disappeared and you both plummeted into the darkness again. You screamed as your belly lifted up into your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut and felt the spirit hug you tighter, your fingers desperately squeezed the wool of his sweater.

And then the falling stopped, and your screaming died down into violent pants. He still held you and then placed you softly down onto the ground below your feet.

His smile was gentle, “Here we are.”

05:00pm Christmas Eve, 1999, Texas, Austin.

Finally, you dared to open your eyes. Your hands were still clawed into his thick sweater when you looked around at your surroundings. It was a living room inside a trailer home. Red tinsel had been taped to walls. A small Christmas tree stood in the corner between the space of a couch and a basinet. Poorly drawn pictures of baubles, stars, Santa and elves had been scattered over the floor.

‘Ugh.’ Christmas decorations…but no, hold on…you knew this place.

And a soft hum of Jingle Bells filled your ears. You gasped. You knew who it belonged to in an instant. You let go of the Spirit and looked behind you.

A woman in the kitchen was opening a packet of biscuits, placing each one on a plastic plate. She was younger than you while sharing a likeness in appearance. The home smelt like gingerbread while she began to pour a cup of milk. She placed the cup on the small coffee table, sighing as she ran her palm over the swell of her protruding belly under her dress.

“M-mom?” you said shakily, “Mom is that…oh god mom! I missed you so much.”

You raced forward with your arms spread wide, seeking to hug her. As you closed your arms around her, you stumbled and fell hard to the floor onto your knees.

“Fuck!” you hissed and heard the mocking snicker come from the Spirit.

You twisted your body and sat back on your hands. You looked up and back at your mother, confused and dazed. Her feet were not on top of you, standing on you, but rather, she was standing inside and walking through you. You jumped in fright and crawled backwards, watching how she walked through you transparently.

“M-mom?” you whimpered, scared and confused. When she didn’t answer your voice filled with panic, “Mom!”

The Spirit, holding his hands behind his back chuckled, looking between you both.

You shouted, “What the hell is wrong with her!?”

His laughter pulled back and he hummed with a smile, “There’s nothing wrong, she can’t see you or hear you. These are but shadows of things that have been. They have no consciousness of us.”

She totally ignored you as she lowered herself onto the couch.

The Spirit held his hand out to you to help you up from the floor. You slapped it away and used the wall for stability. He didn’t appear offended or surprised by your viperous habits. You shoved past him and fell to your knees in front of her.

“Mom?” you said a little more gently.

You reached out to touch her shoulder. Your fingers went straight through her. Your eyes watered. She looked up from her belly and her lips spread into her perfect smile. Her eyes glittered, “Honey, can you please grab the cookies for Santa?”

Your face lit up and you nodded desperately, scooting back off your knees to fetch the cookies from the small kitchenette, but before you could step forward, you heard the tiny squeak of a child, “Okay, mommy!”

And from the corner of your eye you saw her... next to the tree was a little girl in a plaid dress and pig tails with plaid scrunchies, laying on her belly, kicking her feet back in forth with a crayon in her little chubby hand scribbling a poor drawing of a reindeer. It looked more like a cow with antlers.

“Is that…”

The little girl crawled to her feet and skipped to the kitchen, she looked so small compared to the plate she carried back to the living room and placed it onto the coffee table proudly put the beside the milk.

You stood up and took a small step back. You bumped into the Spirits chest, “Is that me?”

He laid his hand on your lower back. He watched you watching your much younger self.

He hummed, “Yes, you were seven years old here I believe.”

‘Yes, just before Caroline was born.”

Your mom leant forward and grabbed the little girl by the waist, tugging her back and peppered kisses all over her small giggling face while her fingers tickled her sides until she begged her to stop.

“Love you my little troublemaker,” she whispered against the tiny cheek.

“I love you too mommy,” you and your younger self said in sync. This, the Spirit noted with a calm expression. He walked around the room. The smaller girl version of yourself ran through him as he perched himself on the arm of couch and cocked his head at the drawings scattered along the floor.

“You had talent, you know?” he mused.

A slam of the front door made you jump. Your father with a big welcoming grin came home shortly after. The little girl cheered excitedly, running off to show him the drawing she drew for him. He picked her up and threw her in the air before catching her again despite the disapproving look your mother gave him.

“Daddy! Daddy! Look!” the little girl said giving him the picture, “Merry Christmas!”

He laughed with pure mirth and delight, his eyes squinted at the image, and he nodded.

You smirked; he had no fucking clue what the kid version of you had drawn.

“It’s beautiful babygirl, it’s ah…ah…”

He glanced over at your mother who mouthed the word back, “Reindeer.”

His eyes widened and his voice lilted, “A reindeer! Just for me!? Thankyou sweetheart,” he kissed her cheek, “I can’t wait to show all my friends this at work.”

He placed her safely down on the floor and walked over to your mother before sitting on the couch beside her. He put the picture on the coffee table and leant in to kiss his wife. Child you turned away and stuck out her tongue, in total disgust because ‘boys kissing girls was gross!’

“And how’s mommy been?” your father purred, laying a hand on her belly, his thumb lazily rubbed back and forth.

“Tired,” she groaned, “Little peanut is coming any day now. I can feel her kicking my rib cage, I think she’s planning her escape and wants to rocket out,” she breathed hard, her hand softly laced into her, holding it over the spot where your baby sister was kicking her feet.

You chewed your bottom lip and glanced at the Christmas Spirit who was grinning at the little girl in her pig tails and plaid.

You felt strange. And the strangeness was uncomfortable. Nausea filled your tummy.

“If this is a memory of just the past, “ you started wobbly, “Does that mean...everything is the same as it once was?”

“Yes, that’s right,” acknowledged the Spirit.

You smirked, “Good.” You twisted around on your heel and marched down the hallway that connected to your tiny bedroom.

A small surprised noise escaped you at seeing how pink and purple everything was coloured. On the walls was a my little pony poster. On your floral bed covers was your favourite Bratz doll. You sat down on the tiny bed and sighed before burying your face into your hands.

You tried sneezing. You tried slapping your face. You even got up and started doing jumping jacks. You would do anything to try and wake yourself up! A tiny knock broke your concentration, and you gasped coming face to face with the Spirit of Christmas. He was leaning against the doorway, holding back his laughter.

You sneered at him and sat back on the bed, panting softly. You tried remembering his name; calling him Spirit felt tedious.

“Chris was it?” you spat mockingly, “Is that because your name's Christmas?”

He dug his hands into his pockets, his smile unfaltered, “Nah, I just liked the name, it fits. My real name you wouldn’t be able to say because it hasn’t been said by the tongue of man.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Yea okay whatever,” you dismissed sourly, “So, what the fuck is this? Huh? Is this some kind of sick game, are you trying to hurt me?”

Your throat grew tight. You couldn’t believe what was happening and why of all people this was happening to you. What did he even want? Was this just some insane plot to blackmail you?

“Well, guess what,” your chin jerked out at him, “I’m not scared, I’m not hurt. In fact I’m thrilled!” you showed off your laughter, forced from your lungs.

His smile softened, “Ah, but why is your lips trembling? And...what’s that I see?”

He took a large step forward and stood above you. You laid back, flinching at his hand reaching down to you face. Your heart thudded loudly.

His finger was hot on your cheek, it rolled up and brushed your skin. He pulled back the finger, rolling it into his knuckle and moved it between your eyes to show you something

On his finger was a drop of moisture.

“A tear?” he whispered, “What ever for?”

Your face felt hot and you blinked away the others that escaped your lashes, you sucked in a deep breath and rubbed your nose.

You let out a fake nervous laugh, “Please, you think I’m crying? Have you not seen how dusty this house his? I’m just having allergies.”

Little did you know, the Spirit could see beyond your lies.

He sat down beside you on your bed and placed his large hand on your knees.

You felt vulnerable. You didn’t want him here, you didn’t want to be here. And what was worse was his silence. He did not speak for a long while. The only noises were the sounds of the little girl and her parents in the living room.

You sighed and looked at the floor. You missed this point in your life. Things were simpler. You were so oblivious to the world and it’s harms.

“Your father sounds incredibly proud,” The Spirit said, his thumb ran over your skin.

Your eyes fluttered and you nodded.

“Did you know he told you the truth? About your picture?”

You eyed him cautiously.

He snapped his fingers and your bedroom faded into an office space. You were sitting on a dark oak desk. Seeing the boxy computer with twistable speakers struck you with nostalgia.

11:00am 26th December, 1999, Texas, Austin.

Your dad came through the office door, holding a piece of paper. Your picture.

He pinned it to a cork board and one of his colleagues that followed him in jokingly asked, “What’s with the Picasso cow?”

Your dad huffed back, “Hey man, it’s a reindeer and for your information, my daughter made it for me. And I’m lucky to have it. What did your kids get you?”

The coworker snorted and muttered under his breath, “A phone call asking about Child support, always check if the condom is ripped my friend.”

The two men left, bantering between each other.

You looked at the photo of your dad, your mom, seven year old you and a baby Caroline. It was a Polaroid taken in the hospital. Your mom had little Caroline just before the new year. You all looked so happy. You loved being a big sister, you couldn’t stop leaving baby Caroline alone, eager for her to grow up and become your best friend. Were there times she annoyed you? Yes, she was your sister after all. But Caroline had a heart of gold.

The Spirit touched the photo and asked with mirth, “Such a beautiful family...whatever happened?”

You didn’t answer. You slid off the desk and marched out of the office door only to somehow walk right back inside...you gasped and turned back around but when you opened the door to leave it was like staring into a mirroring space.

You poked your head out of the office only for it to be poking back inside through the same door.

It was the strangest paradox that you had come to find.

The Spirit sucked his teeth and shook his head, “Yea, funny that...so here’s the deal...you are going to follow my rules.”

‘Asshole doesn’t know what a deal is.’

He stood away from the cork board and sat down in your father’s rolling desk chair, stacking his feet up onto the wood loudly.

Your hands protectively wrapped around yourself. His pupils seemed to expand and shrink quickly like a cat. Your skin crawled.

“What rules?” You scoffed, “Are these a part of your test?”

He nodded once, “Yes. See for this whole thing to work, you have to comply and participate...meaning,” he shoved away from the desk and launched from the chair to walk fast towards you, causing you to walk backwards and hit the wall behind you, his hand grabbed and squeezed your jaw, from his teeth he seethed, “When I ask a question.. you answer it. Or I could just leave you here...forever.”

Your eyes watered, your chest heaved sporadically, “L-leave me here?”

His eyes fluttered, “Oh I’m sorry, you didn’t think this would have consequences?” His nose pressed to yours as he remarked, “Your little friend Marlene is stuck haunting your apartment for that reason. She’s stuck in a loop in which she can never escape. She gets to watch you everyday moving into her apartment and moving all her possessions around. I could leave you here and do the same. I could let you re-watch your father hang up your picture for eternity.”

His bright blue eyes darkened almost totally black. At that point you couldn’t tell if he was a good spirit or an unholy one.

You swallowed hard with a whimper and squeezed shut your eyes. His hot breath tickled your ear.

“I can be merciful...so...” his thumb rubbed over your bottom lip, peeking out from your eyes you thought he might kiss you, “Let’s try again...”

When he released you and turned back to the cork board he clicked his fingers. You collapsed from the wall to your knees, too weak and shaky to hold you up after his dominant spell. Piles of work paper flew around the room, around his head, his eyes raced over the pages, the words turned glowing gold as he read over them with his supernatural powers.

“Your family looked stable enough for their poor income. You lived a decent childhood...” He looked over his shoulder, his eyes hard and demanding, “What happened that changed it all?”

You bowed your head cowering as you whispered, “You already know.”

The papers that swirled in a storm around him floated softly down to the floor in front of you. The ink of the printed words began morphing into swirling shapes and colours.

The Spirit said, “I’d like it if you told me. That’s how this works. We analyse what really happened compared to what you think happened.”

Your eyes stared at the colours in the ink rise, painting the image of a snow covered alley way from nightmares years ago. You gasped. Your mother, you and your sister were all walking down from the entrance. You clenched the front of your nightgown and desperately blabbered into begging. Tears ran down your face. It didn’t take much effort knowing what was to come.

“Please don’t make me watch it.”

You tried to move the papers away but the pages fought back in nasty stinging paper cuts.

Your covered your face and eyes before hearing the mystic being bellow, “Put your hands down!”

Half screaming you sobbed, “No, please! I can’t do it! Please!”

You stood up on your feet and threw yourself into him. He did not hold you and let you fall at his feet. He did crouch down and rub both his thumbs over your snot covered lip.

“Please,” you choked, his finger pressed to you mouth. He shook his head and softly hushed you. He cupped the back of your neck and moved his mouth to ghost along your lips.

You hiccuped and opened your mouth, waiting for him to just conquer a kiss. He almost did with how his tongue tickled your lips and teeth when he icily repeated, “Dont forget I can leave your here. And you can watch it over and over and over. Be a good girl. Tell me what happened.”

He sat on the floor and tugged you into his arms and lap. You buried your face into his neck and hiccupped again.

“C-caroline was nine and I was sev-seventeen...Mom took us Christmas shopping. We were gonna buy something for Dad. A watch. A really fucking nice watch because dad had a big promotion in New York coming up...on our way back home, a drunken asshole with a broken bottle threatened to kill us if we didn’t give him our bags. We complied and mom made sure to step in front of us. He got angry because it wasn’t a Rolex...he then...”

You broke down again and clenched Chris’ white sweater tightly. His fingers raced up and down your spine slowly and tempered, hushing you until you managed to start talking again.

“What did this man do?”

The pages turned dark burgundy red.

Your but your bottom lip and sniffled, “He punched the broken bottle into Moms’ belly. It was so sharp it cut through her jacket, her skin and fat all the way into her liver. There was nothing Caroline and I could do. We tried to stop the bleeding with our coats. But When paramedics arrived ....she had bled to death. I watched her choke on it.”

You wiped your tears and snot across his shoulder, the soft wool soaked it up. His strong hands pulled you closer into him. You straddled his hips, curling your legs around his back. Your night gown hem rose up around your nude hips. His body was so warm. He was like a blanket around you.

“She died, protecting us,” you gulped, “She died over a fucking watch because some greedy homeless drunk wanted money for some booze.”

The Spirit clucked his tongue, “Your mother passed and your father?”

Your tears had calmed down significantly, you covered yourself to sit on his thigh instead of balancing on just his lap. You twisted your body and stared at the moving pictures on the papers.

Your dad came to image. The black beneath his eyes and the sunken cheeks were not the man you wished to remember. He lit a cigarette and pressed a bottle to his lips.

“Dad got his promotion and we moved to Manhattan but...Mom’s death really took a toll on him.”

You were making paper angels on the floor with your sister. You hung them up together in her room. There was no Christmas tree. It was the Christmas after your mom’s death and before you left for college. It was the last Christmas you shared with Caroline.

The sweet ten year old was wise and emotionally matured than others her age. It was how she processed your moms death. Caroline at only ten was able to keep you and your father from experiencing more heart ache and grief.

You watched the two girls climbed under a blanket and play with a flashlight. You pushed over her wrist a rubber band loomed bracelet with her favourite colours. She gave you three fruity scented rubbers and a pencil she had been rewarded by her teacher at school.

“I used that pencil until the tip was impossible to hold,” you whispered and felt Chris’ warm wet lips press against your temple, he rocked you like you were the most fragile thing in the room. Maybe you were.

“She still keeps your rubber band bracelet in her bedside table...she wore it to the birth of your nephew,” The spirit stated.

You choked and cupped your hand over your mouth. You hadn’t cried so hard and so much in years not since-

“And then you left for College.”

You sucked in a deep and painful breath. You nodded and clenched your hand into a fist.

“College wasn’t so bad. I had my fun like everyone else,” you lied.

“Did you?” Chris smirked, “Let’s have a look at that then? Shall we?”

8:00pm 23rd December, 2012, New York University.

Your father’s desk morphed into a pool table.

It was the party of the season. Sororities and fraternities came together. You weren’t a member of a sorority. You chose to believe stand offishly that sororities were of a hive cult mind. It wasn’t worth networking in such a unnecessary club and housing.

You didn’t have friends in college either. You didn’t make yourself approachable. Always sitting at the front of the class room and never smiling. You were the dedicated pupil and that made you into the coldest fish of the school.

Your professors approval and marks is all you cared about. The more successful, the more opportunities and the more chances of gaining success enough to maybe look after your little sister. That originally was the goal.

You watched with Chris as a gaggle of Kappa delta girls giggled passed by a young girl no older than nineteen holding a red cup close to her chest. She looked disdainful and tired. She was wearing a basic white thankyou with a cotton scarf and jeggings. Thick black glasses at on the edge of your nose. You laughed awkwardly looking at the past youth. Your recalled your hipster phase in college but didn’t remember you looking this horrendous and mismatched. Your hair...you shuddered. You never did that style again.

“Fun party!” Chris called over your shoulder. He wore a red Christmas hat and in the crook of his lip was a party blower. The lights and music were obnoxiously jolly and hip hop rap remixes found on YouTube. You know YouTube? When it’s common the iPhone one was still a little television and not the red play button we know today. So many people were growing nuts over these two Neanderthals on a channel called “Smosh” at the time, maybe they were trying to mimic that movie of dipshits called Jack Ass.

Yes...party...you had been invited and you almost said no...but your mother’s death anniversary was coming up and you felt it appropriate to seek the comfort of other people and illicit items to take the pain away for a night. The young woman continued to help herself to the eggnog, standing right beside the table, spooning the goop into her red cup

You tried forgetting about the drunk monster that stabbed your mother all those years ago.

“A naughty freshman?” Chris chuckled, breaking you away from your thoughts.

He floated to the eggnog bowl and grinned,.“Barely a woman and breaking the rules, I wouldn’t have pegged you as a rebel.”

You rolled your eyes, “Hardly,” before walking over to sit on the edge of the pool table. Some guys were playing with their cues and balls. They walked through you as they passed by. One of them you remembered very well and tried your best to not acknowledge.

“It’s how you met him though...isn’t it?” said Chris, looking between the young woman and a young man playing at the table.

The man was handsome. Tall and dark. His eyes a burnt burgundy that sent the younger you thrills down your spine.

The young woman leaning in her corner and sipping her sorrows away was eyeing the game keenly. It looked...fun.

The very ass she looked upon was found and shaped with strong thighs and calf’s under those denim jeans. The ass belonged to a man. And that man turned around once he caught her staring in the corner of his eye.

He smirked and finished the game before swaggering over your way. Even now you still admired how good looking he was.

Chris was looking him up and down, smiling and cockily mimicking the walk but this time back to you so you could both watch the events of your forlorn past.

“Hey, aren’t you in my maths class?” The man asked leaning over her with just his right arm.

She ignored him initially, shrugging as a reply.

He chuckled, “You’re that weird chick that sits at the front right?”

Her eyes flickered back and her lip curdled, “And you’re that obtuse moron that doesn’t know the difference between algebra and calculus equations?”

Chris chuckled, “There you are. I was wondering when you’d come out to play.”

You felt a twinge ashamed. Is that how others saw you all the time? An uptight, haughty bitch? You remained quiet.

“Well...I find I act my dumbest when I’m around beautiful ladies,” said the confident man, “I get all nervous and stuff.”

“Nervous and stuff?” She repeated slowly, flicking her tongue deliberately against her teeth to sound out each precious syllable.

God, it made you cringe to watch yourself.

He leant in closer and pressed his nose to hers, his eyes glanced up and he said heatedly, “You’re standing beneath a mistletoe.”

Before he could officially kiss her, Chris clapped his hands and world the room around. He grabbed your wrist and made sure to stand you on his shoes as the people and party disappeared into books on shelves.

4:00pm 23rd December, 2013, New York University.

The pool table melted down into the shape of a smaller desk and chair. That same girl was sitting at it with her head in a book and her pen against the page. The sky outside was dark. It was snowing lightly beyond the windows.

That man from the party now wore a dark blue jumper and sweatpants, he wandered up beside her, sipping a starbucks milkshake.

She moved the thick black rim glasses from her face. Her fingertips rubbed circles into her eyes before returning back to the important reading material. Dark shadows bagged beneath her eyes.

“You were a dedicated student,” said Chris, his hands lingered up your spine and wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You nodded. You were.

The loud sucking of the man’s Starbucks cup made her slap the book close.

With her tight voice she snootily scolded him, “You know you’re not allowed food and drink in the library.”

He smirked, “Whatcha gonna do miss goodie goodie? Gonna tell on me? Gonna take my drink away?” he shook it, the ice cubes rattled I side.

He chuckled and chewed the straw. His eyes glanced at you up and down.

“Youre kinda hot...in a weird nerdy way you know?” he chuckled.

Both younger you and the you if now rolled your eyes and scoffed. But you knew the younger version was naive and how so many of those one liner comments got you into the most destructive relationship of your life.

The young man stole her book from the desk and ran off with it. Her shriek became laughter as she quickly collected her bag and pencils to chase after him.

The Spirit held you when he stood behind you His hands cradled your arms and hip, rocking you slowly, side to side. He watched the interaction of two young people deep into their puppy love with a great fascination over his face.

“Who was the handsome beau?”

“Anthony Mackie...the schools best hockey player and class clown idiot,” you muttered.

Chris hummed with pleased curiosity, “Is that all?”

You grabbed at his wrists and squeezed them tightly. You pressed your head back into his chest and sighed.

“He was my boyfriend,” you said quietly to Chris.

The library seemed to fast forward. Outside the seasons changed from winter, spring, summer fall and back to winter again. She was sitting back in the same desk again. Her eyes were still tired and now she wore a little more makeup to conceal it. Her eyes were glued to the pages, racing to read and write notes. Her ipod shuffle earphones were half broken, crackling each time unless you held the cord in a specific way.

And a soft humming slipped from her lips, totally immersed in her study.

“Oh, oh, where do we begin? The rubble or our sins?”

Chris side glanced you and you side glanced him. Without the music, her crackly voice just sounded like a dying bird.

“And the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we love. Grey clouds roll over the hills bringing darkness from above.”

“An awful drawer and a terrible deaf tone singer,” he laughed, “I didn’t think I would learn so much about the things you’re bad at.”

You had to admit, he was right. You stomped hard onto his foot. His lips puckered and his eyes squeezed in his silent pain.

“Oops,” you feigned ignorance, “Guess I’m bad at watching my step too.”

“But if you close your eyes,” she sang a little louder and you felt that second hand humiliation wave through you hard, “Does it almost feel like nothing changed at all? And if you close your eyes..Does it almost feel like you’ve been here befor-”

Behind her, Anthony came whistling around a corner and stuck his head into the study nook, stealing her head phone from her ear and kissed her cheek hard.

She smiled and just as quickly frowned.

“C’mon babe,” said Anthony, “Sebastian’s throwing a killer basement bash for the holidays. Let’s go to the party.”

The college girl laughed mockingly at her boyfriend, “I’m sorry, did you forget that we have a test tomorrow? I don’t have time to go out wasting it away with your degenerate friends.”

Chris hands sneakily ran down over your thighs and slipped beneath the night gown to cup your belly. Your breath hitched. You couldn’t tell if you were aroused or disgusted anymore. Why of all times and places was he groping you now?!

“Baby,” the hockey player sighed, “You’re the smartest chick I know. I’m sure you’ll pass tomorrow. A little bit of dancing and drinking won’t change that.”

“No,” she firmly hissed and turned her head back to your book. Anthony’s chest deflated.

“Anthony just wanted to party all the time,” you scoffed to Chris, “He was so horny and stupid I can’t believe I actually dated him.”

He gave you a side ways glance, his thumb rubbed tiny circles into your skin.

“So you dumped him?” he asked looking between you and your younger studying self.

Sheepishly you looked away and shrugged, “...not exactly...it’s complicated.”

“Enlighten me,” he whispered into your ear, kissing your cheek after.

Your body grew warmer by the second especially in places you wouldn’t have guessed. Your insides felt alive and buzzing. It was so wrong.

“...I...” Anthony paused and took a few moments to break out his voice, “I can see your studies are more important than me, huh? We haven’t hung out in ages and...you’re never taking a break from study to enjoy life with me... Is this really more important? I mean, c’mon...” his eyes softened, “It’s almost Christmas break.”

And it was violent. You jumped watching her turn and announce cold cuttingly, “As a matter of fact, this is. I don’t have time to waste on dumb doornail guys when I need to succeed. I guess I can’t expect a hopeless hockey player to understand. Go skate on some ice and hit a put, it’s not like you’ll be able to feed your future family.”

His eyes widened.

Your eyes widened.

Her eyes darkened with scornful hate.

He kissed her head and shook his head, he whispered, “Merry Christmas Y/N. I wish you nothing but the world in your palm, I just won’t be in it.” He stood away shakily. Tears were pearled in his eyes as he walked away leaving her to her own devices. She grunted and went back to her studies... The next morning you had earned the top score of the class.

You knew the break up was quick, you didn’t remember saying such a mean thing to the guy you had fallen mad head over hill in love with.

You couldn’t believe you had been so cruel.

But you had. And there was nothing you could do to take it back. It happened. It was done. Finished.

And Anthony did nothing wrong except invite you to a party, a party you never went to, a party where he met his future wife.

“Spirit remove me from this place,” you choked as your chest began trembling.

Chris hushed you and kissed the side of your head, “It’s alright, I told you before, these are merely shadows of the past, things that have been.”

He wiped the unwilling tears coursing down your cheek.

You shook your head and wailed, “I don’t fucking care! Remove me! Take me somewhere else!”

A vile sobbing wail screamed from your lips. You didn’t know where it had come from. Your knees gave way and you fell, Chris’ arm caught your waist in time and laid you down across the carpet.

The vision of time phased away to the darkness. You felt your heart get louder, fearing the unknown pitch black. His hot hand cupped your cheek and you found yourself cowering into his chest.

1:40am 25th December, 2023, New York City.

There was a faint light in the area around you. Dim and blue. Your eyes struggled to open...you lifted your head from what you originally believed was Chris’ chest. Yet it revealed to you quickly that the warmth was only your soft pillows. You were back in your own bedroom again. The sheets has been wrapped around your waist and legs.

You didn’t know how to feel. You just cried. You buried your head and sobbed. You missed your mother and the father you once had. You missed Anthony and regretted how much you might’ve hurt him. And you missed being touched...you missed Chris’ warm hands holding you and the foolish grin he wore. You barely knew up but you mourned his existence that might’ve not been real at all.

Sitting up sniffling and sighing hard, you got out of your bed and walked to your kitchen. You reached for your coffee machine and paused. No, you need something stronger. You went to the fridge and grabbed the bottle of wine from earlier. You intended to finish the damn thing and forget everything for a while.

Turn back around you returned to your room to lay back in your three thousand dollars bedsheets...

Except you didn’t recall buying him too.

Chris, still here. Now laying across your very luxuriously soft duvet. He made it dramatically obvious, running his cheek into your pillow smelling the essence of your tears.

Your spine shot up and down hot. You tried not to smile. You were pleased he was here. You didn’t know where he came from or where he was hiding before but seeing him again welcomed something into your cold heart.

His eyebrows wiggled, “Oh, Merlot? For me? You shouldn’t have.”

You hummed feigning your displeasure, “Its Pinot Noir... I didn’t think you’d be so uncultured.”

He chuckled, looking down at the soft fabrics he was pinching, “Yea, well I’m probably more knowledgeable on hot chocolate and eggnog more than anything.”

He pat the spot beside him, inviting you to sit on your own bed. You felt it was ironic and ludicrous.

“Maybe...anyway...don’t you have somewhere else to be? Someone else to bother?” You snipped and cocked your hip.

“As a matter of fact...” he rolled onto his back and placed his hands behind his head, “I don’t, so be a good snowflake and join me, the covers are incredible!”

You snorted softly rolling your eyes, “I know,” you sat on the bed and unscrewed the bottle, you took a deep sip and cringed a croak, “I bought them.”

He took the bottle from his hands, not asking if he could. But really what was the point in fighting him. He stole your wine and took his own sip. You couldn’t help stare at his bobbing Adams apple.

He passed the bottle back. You were going to take another drink before Chris said, “It all makes sense now.”

You eyes him putting the bottle down....he was daring you to ask it, you knew it...and you complied.

“What?”

You crawled onto your knees on the mattress and waited with your curious eyes. The wine warmed your belly. You tossed your head to one side, staring up and down the Spirit. He had such an appealing form for something so inhuman and supposedly holy.

He smiled.

“What!?” you repeated needfully.

He sighed, “This,” he waved his hand towards you.

“You just gestured to all of me.”

“Exactly.”

Your eyes narrowed and a bold bolt drove through you, the twinge of annoyance mixed with frustrated anger, “If you’re going to talk in riddles, you can get the fuck off my bed and get the fuck out of my apartment. Merry fucking Christmas.”

His smile remained but his eyes sparkled with mischief. He lifted his chin.

“How you became a holiday hating, grievously malicious, uptight little cunt.”

Your eyes could have popped out from your head, “Excuse me?!” You gagged on nothingness. Your fists curled...‘What happens to people who punched Spirits in the nose?’

He shrugged and sighed, “You wanted to know. Don’t blame me for telling you the truth. I don’t do white lies, that’s not in my books.”

You grabbed the wine again and took a mean big gulp, glaring at him from the corner of your eye, “If that was the case,” your voice said with barbs, “Children wouldn’t believe in Santa and the north pole and his company of elves.”

He pursed his lips and nodded before he snatched the bottle from your hand and vanished it from existence.

“Hey!” you snapped, “I wasn’t finished with that! It cost me-”

“Nothing,” he interrupted and tapped his fingers on his chest, “It didn’t cost you a penny because you got a refund when you lied to the winery that it’s wax seal was broken upon delivery when it very well wasn’t...but upon tasting it you felt it wasn’t worth the price you paid therefore it shouldn’t cost you a dime...it didn’t cost you a damn thing.”

You sat back and gulped, ‘How the fuck-‘

“Christmas past remember? I see all...so don’t bother trying to convince me that you needed to finish that meaningless sip,” he curtly said, “You need to focus on bettering your mindset and yourself. It’s important.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and pouted down at the floor. You wanted to cry and scream with embarrassment, you wanted to kick or break something.

He smirked and picked up your chin with a long finger. You sniffled and jerked your head away. You crawled down to the very end of your bed. You pulled the covers back and kicked the sheets before sliding your feet under them and pulling them up to your chin.

You huffed softly, feeling the prickling heat of tears behind your eyes, why did he have to shame you so easily, “Or what, you gonna chain me up like Marlene? Go on then, call me a cunt again. Put me on your big ol’ scary naughty list.”

You shook your head and rolled your entire body away from him. A tear rolled from your eye and soaked down into your pillow, meeting the rest of its previous brethren tears.

Chris gazed down at you with sad hope. He really did want you to pass the test. He knew you had the potential, but did you have the drive? Maybe you just needed the push...

You were lonely in life more than ever before. You were miserable despite convincing yourself you were incredibly successful in all parts of life.

His arm circled forward and bodly rubbed down your middle and curled around your waist. You sniffled again, ignoring his touch all together.

He laid his cheek ontop of yours and whispered, “Do you want to know what happens to naughty girls like you? You want to really know what they get?”

You shut your eyes, you didn’t want to look at him. You were upset and too ashamed. You didn’t want to be teased again.

You mumbled grumpily, “Coal up their ass?”

“Oh it’s not coal that goes up there,” he hummed deeply

Your eyes fluttered awake.

His hand reached under the duvet and touched your bare thigh...his finger tips wriggled in between your thighs and attacked your clit...your breath hitched.

“I gather you need motivation if you are to improve your outlook on life,” he breathed huskily into your ear.

Your lips parted, your eyes squeezed tight. A gurgling moan crawled from your throat. You rocked your hips into his hand and savoured his controlling hand.

Tiny pants left your lips as he pushed two fingers inside of your salivating pussy. He twitched them back and forth at an average steady pace.

His hot wet tongue licked from your shoulder up to your ear. His loud sucking on your skin cause a small keen shudder to glide down your spine. He kissed your neck and sighed into your skin.

His knee curled up and pressed between your thighs, he fully intended to keep your entire pussy open and available to his instrumental fingers.

“Look at you,” he muttered, “So compliant when I have my fingers up this stubborn cunt. Are you going to promise you’ll behave and obey me from now on? Cease you insistent fight?”

“Pl-please Chris,” you gasped,

He smirked against you skin, “Please what?” he purred

“F-fuck!” you whined and pressed your ass back against him, trying to rub against his hidden cock.

He slapped your backside once making you jump. He chuckled wickedly, “I will if you promise to obey and listen.”

You panted and groaned, “Make- make me!” you wouldn’t submit so easily....not even for unworldly dick.

His noise was feral, rising from the back of his throat like a growl. He pressed his mouth to yours. You whined, his tongue choked you and pressed your tongue down, dominating you even in kiss.

He gasped pulling back, “Very well you stubborn slut.”

He snapped his fingers and poof- the blankets, your night gown and surprisingly all his clothing vanished from the bed all together.

You gasped at the feeling of his hot skin pressing up your back. Your hands clawed the pillows as he thrust his fingers fast and hard. Your eyes started to roll until the sensation was totally lost. He selfishly took his hand back, moments before you hit the high. You whimpered and trembled. You couldn’t breathed you were a mixture of frustration, anger and needy obsession. You would have done anything for him to finish.

He sat up and rolled you until your belly was laid over his legs. His cock you could not see but feel touching you made you excited and eager to know how it would feel to fuck you. His hands roughly kneaded your thighs and bottom.

‘No...he wouldn’t...’

His hand came flying down cracking across the skin of your ass. You squealed and felt your hips launch up in the air. The sting was like a cutting burn that lasted for around thirty seconds. He did it again and again. His flat palm struck you and would the pain absorb before rubbing the flesh. You didn’t fight him and that did not surprise him.

Your hips wriggled and twisted. His hand was harsh and fiery. You groaned and savoured it. And when it felt almost too much and you tried to wiggle free. He pinned you down hard by your neck and shoulders.

You bit your lips and cried, really cried. You grit your teeth and sobbed through each striking spank on your naked ass. Your hands clawed the bed and the skin of his thighs. He hailed into you harder. You screamed and choked on your sobs. It wasn’t fun anymore. It hurt and he wasn’t stopping even when you began squealing and kicking your legs on the bed trying to twist your hips away.

“Stop! Stop please! Please! It hurts! No more, no more.”

“If you didn’t want this, you’d behave.”

You swore he had to have been flaying your skin by his hand until you reached back and cupped or own hot cheeks, protecting yourself from his whiping palm.

You sobbed and trembled. You flinched and whimpered with shining tears when a surprisingly soft knuckle brushed your cheek and his husky voice hushed you softly.

He slowly turned you over off his lap and dragged you close to his chest.

He shoved his thumb into your mouth. You didn’t fight or pull back. You sucked on this digit, wrapping your lips around it. You felt his arm wrap around you and pull you closer. Your breasts pressed to his chest, he was warm

And his thumb gave you something to focus on instead of your burn sore bottom. You whined and laid your head back on the pillows. You rubbed to cheek on the warm skin of his shoulder while he soothed you from your tears using his soft cooing and thumb you greedily kept in your mouth. You moaned and mewled over it, licking the pad and scratching your tongue along his nail.

His fingers ran up and down your back. He pulled his thumb from your mouth with a gentle pop.

“Look at you,” he whispered, “Greedy, spoilt, but once you’re faced with real consequences you come to heel...”

You tried shaking your head, denying it. No. You were an independent woman with control.

A false mocking awe came from him as he said, “Oh yes, yes that’s exactly what you are. But you’re going to promise to be a good girl from now on or else you’ll never cum again.”

You were speechless...you wanted to be fresh with him and state that you still owned a vibrator...but what if he took it away like your wine.

He spread your thighs, he tugged your knees over his hip and rubbed your clit with his fingers until you were wet enough to his liking. He kissed you again, laughing as you pressed yourself up into him, stealing any physical touch you could possibly gain. He ran a soft hand across your cheek, tender and loving. His lips suckled their way down to your chest. Those red cherry lips plucked at your nipples and soft breasts.

Finally the tip of his pink cock touched your pussy. It was firm and from what you could see in the faint dark, it was lengthy. Your arms reached up and held onto his shoulders, you dug your nails sharply into his shoulders as he entered.

He grunted and sighed, struggling to stuff himself in and would pause when your noises were whines of pain. He made sure to avoid any tearing.

And when he managed to press himself taut into you, his balls touching your ass and thigh, you felt like you had been through a workout.

The walls of your cunt were filled to every crevice of his fat cock. You moaned when he moved tiny thrusts into you instead of brutally slamming.

You pressed your mouth to him again, his eyes looking back at you with adoration. He jerked his hips back a little meaner watching you gasp. He mocked your gasp before kissing your nose and then your mouth. He did it again to taste and feel your gasp.

He moved you back, dislodging quickly so that he could climb over you and enter swiftly inside. He picked your legs up with the backs of your knees and anchored himself down, harder and faster picking up the speed.

“You hear that?” he asked and moved himself in smaller jerks, “Dirty little slut, you’re drooling syrup all over my pole.”

And if you weren’t so close to cumming you would’ve laughed. His hand pressed down on your throat. He barrelled into you and slapped a breast.

The sensations of being prevented to breathe as straight and the slap intensifies all your senses. You groaned and choked.

He hissed, bending down to press his nose into yours.

Your legs wrapped tight around his waist trying to lift your hips up to meet him.

“You want to cum?” he snarled? You nodded trying to not cry again. God you needed it.

“Pl-pl-please,” you gasped through the violent thrusts.

He licked your cheek and growled, “You promise to be on your best behaviour from now on?”

You whimpered and nodded.

His thumb attacked your clit as he fucked you.

“Cum,” he whispered, “Cum for me on my cock little slut.”

Your body contorted, muscles strained as you released a soundless scream. You threw your head back let you body be consumed by the orgasm you let tear through your entire body. Your bones and chest rattled. When air finally came to your lungs you let out a powerful sob. But Chris gazing down at you bore joyful vision at your smile as you cried.

You felt incredible, hit by a bus made of all things delightful.

His cock was still inside you. You didn’t take a moment to think about him or whether he cummed. You selfishly enjoyed the gift he gave you and forgot about the promise you had vowed.

He pulled away slowly. You hissed at the departure. So sensitive.

You curled lazily up into a ball and fluttered your eyes shut.

You only recalled feeling his hot lips against your ear, “I will return to you when the bell chimes once more...” his pecked your cheek and left you to lay in your mess, exhausted and falling into your own sleep again.