Page 36

Holly

“Holly! Wake up!” Lizzie bursts into my room, still wearing her red pajamas. “It’s Christmas. You have to come downstairs for presents.”

Turning my head on the pillow, I glance at the clock next to my bed. It’s barely 6:00 a.m., but my little sister is wide awake and hyperexcited. Sitting up, I cover my mouth as I yawn. I have yet to get a full night’s sleep since I was freed. Nightmares jolt me awake several times per night, and then I have a hard time falling asleep again.

“Sleep is an earned privilege, little girl. Not a right.”

“Come on,” Lizzie urges.

I smile at her, remembering the excitement of my own childhood Christmas mornings before there weren’t any ever again. Until today.

Today I get to have a Christmas and a birthday with my family again. I’m here for a four-day visit this time, the longest I’ve ever stayed at my parents’.

“Okay, okay,” I say teasingly, throwing my blanket off. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

She races down the hallway, her small feet thumping down the stairs to the living room. Stretching, I gaze out the window and smile when I see snowflakes slowly falling. Snow on Christmas! Irun to the window to see the ground covered in a velvety blanket of white. After breakfast, I’m going outside to walk in it, make footprints, and catch snowflakes on my tongue. As I cross the room to grab the robe draped over my chair, I spot something strange on one of the other windows in my room. Frowning, I approach it slowly, knowing it wasn’t there last night, and it’s on theoutsideof the window.

My eyes focus on the red envelope taped to the glass. Cautiously, I peek around the edge of the curtain, not seeing any footprints in the fresh snow or on the sloped porch roof under the window. Quickly, I unlatch the lock, push up the window, and grab the card. I close the window just as fast and make sure I lock it immediately.

“If you run away, I will find you. I’ll take you again. And again, and again, and again.”

Someone, somehow, got up to my second-story window. While I was sleeping.

Goose bumps sprout up on my flesh as I turn the card in my hands.

“Holly!” my mother calls from downstairs, making me jump nearly out of my skin. “We’re waiting for you.”

“I’ll be right there!”

With shaking hands, I rip the envelope open and pull out a white greeting card. There’s a tiny penguin on the front, balancing a wrapped Christmas present on its head. It doesn’t appear threatening at all. Slowly opening it, I see the printed wordsMerry Christmasand below that, in blocky handwriting,and Happy Birthday. A photo has fallen out of the card and fluttered to the floor at my feet. My heart lurches when I pick it up and turn it over.

It’s a photo of the decorated tree, deep in the woods, with Poppy posing next to it with a Santa hat on, a happy doggy grin on hisface. Tears of happiness spring to my eyes. Only Tyler could have left this card here for me. But why? And more importantly, how? Did he actually climb up the house in the middle of the night? And how did he know I was here, and which room was mine?

How bizarre.

How stalkery.

How romantic.

A new shiver courses through me, this one warm and tingly and unlike any sensation I’ve ever felt. After what I went through, things like this should scare me. Someone watching me should be a huge red flag. I’m intelligent enough, and I’ve watched enough TV, to know that. If it was anyone else, I would be terrified. But it’s Tyler, and he’s an exception. He’s special, and he doesn’t scare me. I hold the photo and the card over my heart for a moment before putting them in my nightstand for safekeeping.

Christmas morning is a whirlwind of exchanging gifts, listening to holiday music, and eating an unimaginable amount of food. Zac and Anna join us, which seems to be the norm from what I can tell. My parents cook pancakes, waffles, eggs, and bacon together and appear happier than I’ve ever seen them as they tease each other in the kitchen. After breakfast, they surprise me by singing “Happy Birthday” and piling more presents in front of me. Being the center of attention is awkward for me, and poor Lizzie can’t understand why I’m getting extra presents and she isn’t.

I rise from my seat on the couch and put my arm around her, which she always loves. “I’m going to put some clothes on and go walk in the snow. Do you want to come with me?” I ask her, hoping it will cheer her up.

Her face lights up. “Yes! Maybe we can make snow angels!”

“Awesome. Go get dressed, okay? You can’t go outside in your jammies.”

“Lizzie,” Mom says from the kitchen. “Maybe you can go outside later. Daddy is going to get Grandma soon. Go put your nice new dress on.”

My little sister pouts and stomps her foot. “But I want to go out in the snow with Holly. We’re going to make angels like Holly used to be.”

I open my mouth to respond, but Mom gives us both a warning look before shoving a casserole dish into the oven and turning back to us. “Lizzie, it’s Christmas. Don’t be difficult.”

The happiness I felt a moment ago is replaced by growing anger as I watch my sister stomp off to her room. My mother refuses to look at me as I stare at her.

“I’d love to take a walk,” Anna offers, sensing the tension. “If you don’t mind me going with you?”